The First Word #23: Negative Search Results Leads to Old Friends

    Last week I spent five days in Salt Lake City. I had grand visions of the records I would locate, the great new leads I would discover, the holes in my research I would fill. I spent hours before the trip combing the online catalog, creating a list of films and books to look at when I finally arrived at the shining front doors of the genealogical Mecca. But the research gods had other plans for me.
    I spent the first few days searching through those books and films for Thomas C. Mitchell and his wife Angeline. For a long time they have been my favorite research subjects, but lately they have been more trouble than they are worth! I’m sure you have some ancestors like that too. (Maybe even some living relatives, but that’s an entirely different subject.) In particular, records of their marriage elude me.
    I flew into Salt Lake City very early on Wednesday morning, so when I arrived I had a nice breakfast to get my energy up. I went to the library for a few hours and started looking through the books on my list. After lunch I dove into the films. Over the next couple of days I scrolled through film after film and read through piles and piles of books. Much to my chagrin, I never found a single new record about them, let alone any clue to their marriage. I am beginning to think that Thomas and Angeline got married in the backyard by someone who had the audacity to not record their nuptials!
     The trip wasn’t without any discoveries, I did find something new completely by accident. I found out that one of Thomas and Angeline’s daughters, Mary, was married four times, the last time in Iowa. I stumbled across this tidbit of information while searching the FamilySearch.org digital records database. I don’t know for certain yet, but I believe that Angeline’s maiden name is Higdon. In this document, Angeline’s maiden name had been spelled differently (“Hoegdoen”) but by searching creatively for “Thomas C. Mitchell” with spouse “Angeline” (omitting her maiden name), I spotted this record in the list rather quickly. This piece of information didn’t do much for my main research plan except that it gave a little more weight to my theory.  I have also pieced together a Hidgon family group from the correct time and place that might be related to Angeline, but  I have not found a record yet that links her directly to them.
    Thursday night I took a break from research and I found myself wandering through the dusk to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s rehearsal night, which they open to the public. If I were to imagine what Heaven sounds like, that would be it! As I left, the temple to the east of the tabernacle was lit up and beautiful and I stopped for a photo, which I promptly posted to my Facebook page.
    After three days of finding next to nothing, I found myself extremely frustrated. I decided not to go back to the library and instead focus the remainder of my time on a couple of writing projects I had underway. I spent a lot of time at a local Starbucks using their internet connection, writing and of course, on Facebook. The temple photo I had posted on my Facebook page garnered a comment from a friend Craig who happens to be friends with Julie, another old friend of mine from college who it turns out now lives in Salt Lake City! Julie and I hadn’t reconnected on Facebook yet, so in seeing Craig’s comment on my photo she immediately sent me a message and we arranged to have breakfast together. It also caught the attention of Danny another long lost friend from college who stopped by to see me on his way through town. It was really great to see them and catch up.
    Despite all of the frustrations of not finding the ancestors I intended to find on this trip, I did keep a log of all of the films and books I looked through. The next time I’m planning a trip to the library, I can refer to my log and see exactly what titles I already searched in and more importantly, for what names. This log will keep me from repeating my research, as I have found myself doing on previous trips. Even if I didn’t find Thomas and Angeline, I now know more accurately where to continue my search. More importantly, however, my trip turned out to be more of a weekend to reconnect with the living, instead of with the dead.

First Word #17: Haiti Got Me Thinking

Have you ever found yourself up against a brick wall? I don’t mean in your car, I’m talking about in your research. If you haven’t then you haven’t been doing this very long and believe me, you’ll know what I’m talking about when you find one. It is that dead-end that you can’t seem to get past in your research. I’m at a brick wall in one of my lines. Well, several, but one in particular that I’m working on in earnest. I’ve written about my Mitchell ancestors before. I had a fun time trying to locate their tombstone in the Wellsville, Missouri cemetery. Now, I’m trying to locate the marriage of Thomas Carroll Mitchell and Angeline Higdon.

I know where they “should” be. They “should” be in Barren County, Kentucky sometime before 1850. I found them in the 1850 census married with no kids, in their early 20s. The box that says “Married within the year” was not checked. So I am guessing they were married approximately 1847-1849. The records for Barren County, Kentucky exist for that time frame. I looked at them the last time I was in Salt Lake City, in 2005 and did not locate my ancestors. And to top it all off, I have found very little indication as to who either of their parents are!

Well, that is a bummer to say the least. Don’t you just hate it when your research does not go according to plan? Sometimes we jokingly say that our ancestors were brought here on the “Mother Ship” rather on a sailing ship across the ocean. It would seem at times that our ancestors just “showed up” suddenly in the records and where they came from or who they descended from is a complete mystery!

The January 2010 earthquake in Haiti got me thinking about some of the possibilities for these unexplained or difficult-to-find answers. I’ve watched news stories regarding the orphans in Haiti. It was estimated in one NPR article I read that more than 20,000 children lost their parents in the disaster. In many cases relatives or neighbors are caring for the children. In other cases, they are fending for themselves. One group of boys formed a group and live together in a park. They do odd jobs to earn a little money and they wash out their clothes every night. They share what little food they have to survive. The article went on to say that slowly social workers are making their way through the crowds to document who’s living where and to offer services to children such as these boys. There is much concern over how to keep track of all of these children as well as to try to stop such unsavory things as child trafficking, kidnapping and unlawful adoptions.

What if something like this terrible disaster (or even a small disaster) happened to our ancestor? Fire, flood, tornado, earthquake, hurricane, illness–the possibilities are numerous. If our ancestors’ parents were killed in some terrible way, who took them in? And were there any records to indicate where that child came from? If suddenly there’s another child in a family and the age doesn’t necessarily line up with previous information, this may be a possibility. Records may indicate “adopted” but more likely, the child(ren) were just absorbed into the family, especially if they were taken in by relatives. It is quite possible that no records were created that document times such as these. Also, the children could have taken on their adopted family’s name. This alone could bring you up against a brick wall in your research.

As I watched numerous news stories about these Haitian orphans and thought about how the chaos would affect genealogical research in years to come, it caused me to reflect on how similar situations would affect our ancestors. I am going to keep this in mind in the future. One thing you can do is read newspapers for the area and time your ancestors lived and note any disasters that may have occurred. This may break down some of those walls.

The First Word #13: My Psychic Roots Experience

If you’ve never read the Psychic Roots books by Hank Jones, you’re missing out on all that is mystical about genealogy. These books tell tales of ancestors guiding genealogists’ research and of the strange and mystical experiences some researchers have had. I recently had a Psychic Roots experience of my own.

As part of my job as a chiropractic assistant and as a patient of chiropractic, I have been learning about a therapy technique called Neuro-Emotional Technique1, which is a way of releasing “stuck” emotions from your body so it can function and heal and be healthy. Part of this technique involves “re-feeling” emotions from the original time when they happened. Sometimes they can get a little more esoteric in nature and can seemingly relate to past lives or the lives of your ancestors.

You may or my not believe in these possibilities. However, you may still enjoy my story. My point is that in a recent therapeutic session, knowledge of my ancestors was a real help in figuring out an emotional complex. I was experiencing one of these “stuck” emotions that seemed to have originated with my maternal ggg-grandmother––feelings of being deserted, of needing to control all situations, and not being allowed to have fun because of work and other responsibilities.

My doctor determined what the emotions were and described the general scenario to me; I had knowledge of who ggg-grandmother and he did not. I got a little goose-bumpy over that. He knows I am into researching my ancestors and asked me if I knew who this person was. So I began to relate what I knew and then we postulated on what her life must have been like.

My ggg-grandmother, Angeline (possibly Higdon) married Thomas Carroll Mitchell somewhere around 1848–1849 (probably in Barren County, Kentucky) since I have found them married in the 1850 census with no children.2 In January of 1862, Thomas joined the Confederate Army, Company G, 2nd Missouri Calvary.3 At that time, the family lived in Cooper County, Missouri.4 According to his affidavit in his pension application, he was captured at Sardis, Mississippi in 1865 and “confined in prison at Alton, Ill until the close of the war.”5

I have no journal, letters or any other documentation that suggests there was any contact between the couple while he was at war, although she did find out that he was in Alton Prison and moved the family there according to an 1866 deed that records them as being “of the County of Macoupin and the State of Illinois” which is near Alton Prison.6 Also, their child Margarett was born in Illinois according to census records.7

So, knowing all of this, I began telling the doctor about Angeline and together we imagined what her life must have been like. She probably felt deserted as her husband went off to war and left her with six children to raise. They lived and worked on a farm, from what little information I have obtained. They probably had friends and neighbors who helped out, but when it came to being in charge of all of the responsibilities of raising children and taking care of the home, that was all up to her for four years.

She probably was unsure if her husband was still alive during much of that time. She probably heard stories from friends, neighbors, the local newspaper, letters to herself or others––stories of injuries, death, capture, torture and all manner of tales common to war time. These stories likely heightened her fears about what her husband was going through and probably led to anxiety. We theorized that her mechanism for combating these emotional stressors would likely have been to try to control what she could––her home, her farm, her children and by working constantly she would have been distracting herself from the terrible images she may have had in her mind.

I can imagine the unknown driving her crazy. In our high-tech world if you want to know something about someone, it is generally just a few clicks of a mouse away. I cannot fathom how she had to emotionally deal with being out of touch with her husband for months or even years, not knowing what dangers he may have been facing. I can imagine that when she got a letter notifying her of his location at Alton, Illinois, that she packed up her family almost immediately and made her way to him, to await his release. She could not wait any longer to see him again.

No matter how strange it may sound, in addition to dealing with my own emotions, this therapy technique really made me feel connected to this woman, more so than I have ever been when doing research. I could almost see Angeline’s face, I could feel what she must have been feeling and I got a real sense of how these people are still connected to me and my life today. I realized they are never truly gone, they all live within us, having passed traits and behaviors down from generation to generation. I now know more than ever why I love genealogy so much and have a renewed sense of purpose for my research.

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1 For more information on this technique visit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neuro_emotional_technique
2 Thomas Mitchell household, 1850 U.S. census, Barren County, Kentucky, population schedule, Division 1, page 374, dwelling 993, family 1018; National Archives micro-publication M432, roll 191.
3 Thomas C. Mitchell, compiled military record (private, Company G, Green’s Regiment, Calvary), Compiled Service Records of Confederate Soldiers Who Served in Organizations From the State of Missouri, micropublication M380 (Washington: National Archives), roll 10.
4 Thos. C. Mitchell household, 1860 U.S. census, Cooper County, Missouri, population schedule, Saline township, Gooches Mills post office, page 58, dwelling 390, family 390; National Archives micro-publication M653, roll 616.
5 Thomas C. Mitchell file, no. 378, Pension for Ex-Confederate Soldiers; micropublication Reel S1086 (Jefferson City, Missouri: Missouri State Archives).
6 Cooper County Deed Records, Missouri, Book G2, page 308. “Deed to J. B. Miles from Thos. C. Mitchell, 22 September 1866.” FHL microfilm 947046.
7 Thomas Mitchell household, 1870 U.S. census, Audrain County, Missouri, population schedule, township of Loutre, Martinsburg post office, page 510-B, dwelling 161, family 145; National Archives micro-publication M593, roll 756.

First Word #8 - How Could That Record Be So Wrong?

Have you ever wondered how records could ever be incorrect? How could they get so full of the “wrong” information? Have you ever come across a census that was so full of errors you wondered where they came up with it? I have some examples of this and some ideas on how it could have happened.

While researching my great-great grandmother, Martha (Meeker) Dimick, who died in Nashville, Tennessee, I located my standard starting records: obituary and death certificate. Martha Dimick was born in Wood County, Ohio on 27 May 1872 and died 23 September 1970. Both her obituary and her death certificate state that her parents were Mahlon and Mary (Baughman) Meeker. After spending unsuccessful hours searching the 1880 census to find her with her parents, I finally changed tactics and found her birth registration. Her parents were actually Lafayette and Philinda (Baughman) Meeker.

The informant for her death certificate, and most likely her obituary as well, was her son, Gerald Dimick. He was only 2 months old when his grandfather died and his grandmother died 22 years before his birth! Needless to say, he didn’t know his grandparents and, if his mother never really talked about them, he maybe didn’t even know their names or confused them––Mahlon Meeker was his great-grandfather. Or, at times of distress, such as the loss of a loved one, our minds are not as sharp as they usually are, which could have been the case with Gerald.

On a more recent note, my genealogical buddy Birdie Holsclaw and I met each other for dinner a few months ago. At that particular restaurant they take your name and and order, then call you when your food is ready. Birdie and I ordered and then sat down to wait. During our meal, I noticed that her receipt said “Bertie.” I immediately imagined all those poor census takers who did the best they could recording names, sometimes in a short amount of time, with language barriers or uncooperative families. They were trying to get through hundreds and thousands of households on a deadline, just like the cashiers at restaurants who are trying to get to as many customers as possible.

Another modern incident of incorrect information comes to mind. My brother got married 25 June 2005 in Estes Park, Colorado, which is in Larimer County. I was there. My husband, children, mom, grandma and aunt were there too. We all witnessed the event, we even have video and pictures to document the marriage. However, the Colorado marriage records state that he was married 25 August in Adams County. Why? Because he forgot to file the appropriate papers in time. So they held the ceremony and were married but the license wasn’t filed with the state until August. If you are familiar with Colorado, you would not mistake the mountainous backdrop of Estes Park in those pictures with the sweeping plains of Adams County as the recorded “truth” claims.

My brother’s story could be similar to that of my ancestor Thomas Mitchell who married Angeline Higdon around 1848-1849. They are in the 1850 Barren County, Kentucky census, married, no children. However, every attempt to locate a marriage record in that county––and about 10 of the closest surrounding counties––has turned up nothing. It could have been that they were married by a traveling minister who never turned in his records to the county. Or they eloped to some other state, maybe even changing their names. Or they never actually married.

When evaluating the records that have been left for us to interpret, (or perhaps not left, as the case may be), it is important to try to imagine what obstacles the record taker may have been dealing with such as language barriers, or the stress the informants may have been under. There are any number of factors to consider. If that doesn’t work, I try to imagine a scenario for the unknowns that helps me sleep at night. At least until I find that record…

First Word #2 - How Potty Training Can Help Your Genealogy

The First Word:
How Potty Training Can Help Your Genealogy
by Cari A. Taplin

Last summer, my family and I took a trip to visit my extended family in Ohio, driving across the Midwest for two days. On the return trip I had planned to make a couple of genealogical stops in Missouri where I have traced my maternal grandmother’s line. Our first stop was Wellsville, Missouri, which is practically in the middle of the state, not far off of I-70.

After stopping at a local library to look at some old newspapers, I wanted to locate the tombstones of my great-great-great-grandparents, Thomas Carroll and Angeline Mitchell. Thomas Carroll Mitchell died 29 April 1914 and Angeline died 5 March 1913. I had come across a list of tombstone transcriptions several years ago recording their graves, but had never had the time to go and find them. Now I finally had my chance.

I knew the cemetery was located in Wellsville, and prior to our trip I had searched the Internet, located the cemetery on a map, and plotted the course we would take to get there. The surrounding countryside was somewhat hilly and there were small farms everywhere. During the peak of summer, it was a beautiful drive.

Arriving in the small town of Wellsville, population 1400, we passed a gas station and several streets with small houses; there was not much to this town. Finding the cemetery was easy since I had a good map and it was a pretty good-sized cemetery for such a small town.

There were two modern entrances to the cemetery and the remains of what appeared to be the original entrance, a two-wheel rutted path that went under an old metal archway. We took the first drive we came upon which wound through the cemetery in a “U” shape and ended up at the second entrance. There was a shallow gully that bisected the cemetery which was dry when we were there. It appeared that the oldest stones were east of this gully and the newer ones were to the west.

We parked under a nice old shade tree and let the kids out. They had been riding for a long time and needed to stretch their legs. We had a discussion with the children about what to do and not to do in a cemetery, such as where to walk and how to avoid touching the stones lest we knock a loose one over (we’d already had an experience with this when my son was younger, but that’s a whole other topic altogether!)

We started walking up and down the rows, canvassing the stones. This was a great time to practice letters with Ethan, our preschool-age son. I told him to find any tombstones that started with an “M.” We looked and looked and looked. And then we looked some more. There were many stones whose dates and names were so eroded by the elements that they were illegible and I was beginning to think we'd never find my ancestors’ graves.

Seth, my husband and research slave, then realized that the cemetery transcriptions I had brought with me were arranged in order of location, meaning that whoever compiled it probably recorded the list in order as they walked the rows, instead of alphabetizing it. So, next to my Mitchells on this list, there were some common names like Brown but there were also some Branstetters. Being an uncommon name I’d be likely to recognize, I also began looking for “Branstetter.”

I was about half way through the older part of the cemetery when Ethan proudly announced he had to go potty. He had been potty trained for a while now, but when they say they need to go they usually mean five minutes ago. So we thought we'd just have him go on the road next to the car. However he informed us he had to “go poop” and we decided that THAT probably was something to be added to the list of things we don't “do” in a cemetery. Seth quickly loaded him up in the car to drive back to the gas station in town to use the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Ellie, my daughter, and I kept walking the cemetery. We were getting hot and tired. I was about to give up assuming that my ancestors’ stones must have been among those that were completely unreadable. By the time Seth and Ethan returned from the gas station (a false alarm I might add) I was done with the older part of the cemetery. I suggested we give up because we were hot and tired and we just couldn’t find the stone.

By happenstance, Seth had driven back through the second cemetery entrance, which was closer to where we were searching. We loaded up, packed the genealogy away and headed out. Because we were turned around, we had to drive back through the “newer” section of the cemetery to leave. As we rolled through the “newer” section, I noticed a tombstone that looked like it said “Branstetter” in the distance. It was just beyond the little gully next to a few other stones. And then I saw one that said “Mitchell” standing right beside it. As we drew closer, I could clearly see it was my ancestors!

They were even within inches of the road where we drove in. The tombstones were facing the “wrong way,” meaning they were not facing the road as we drove in, so I couldn’t see them even though I was scanning for them. If Ethan hadn’t had to go to the bathroom, I would have never found my ancestors. We would have driven right out of that second entrance and never looked back.

I learned many lessons on that trip. First, look for other names that should be buried near your ancestors. Second, don’t forget to check those tombstones that are facing the “wrong direction.” Third, and definitely the most important, taking along a potty-trained tike can be the key to finding your ancestors.