America: A Nation of Explorers

It’s November. That’s the month I choose to pester my family with Facebook posts about our Mayflower ancestors. It’s been my tradition the last few years to post tidbits once or twice a week to help inform the next generation about the trials and tribulations faced by those who paved the way for us.

I wonder sometimes why we have such a reverence for certain groups of people, such as those who traveled on the ship called Mayflower. What made them more special than those who traveled on the ship called Fortune? Nothing really. Each and every one of them faced the same hardships. Sickness, lack of food, winter. Hardships that I can’t even fathom as I sit here in my warm home typing away on my computer.

Thinking of those who forged the way in America reminded me of a conversation I had with a woman I had just met while I was living in Louisville, Kentucky. Louisville is a unique place of proud people. Some who still hold tight to the ideas of the Antebellum South. I met this woman one night while I was at work. We chatted for a couple of minutes while she was dropping names right and left. I’m sure you’ve met that type of person before. One who thinks their worth is made from who they know, not who they are?

The conversation was such that I was able to drop a few of my own by first naming my ancestor James Whitecotton who fought in the American Revolution under General George Rogers Clark (Clark is still a big deal in Louisville even today). After that I tossed in a couple of Mayflower ancestors and we turned the conversation towards the settling of America.

This woman made a comment then that struck me and has stayed with me even years later. She said that it was her opinion that the American people as a group are a people who are always striving for the next great thing, be it science or exploration. Always wanting to expand West. Her reasoning was that the earliest settlers were made up of mostly second and third sons who wouldn’t inherit land and so of necessity moved to the New World.

Thus she said, began a mindset that continued for each generation. Exploration. Land.

Looking at my family tree I see the truth of what she said. From those who traveled on the Mayflower and Fortune to America and created a New World, to those who moved from Germany to Russia to America to provide a better life for their families. I see the idea that things are always better over the horizon. I see in my family a single family line in which each generation moves a little further west until they finally end up in California.

So to begin my yearly Mayflower tidbits for my Facebook family I will share a story about a boy named John Billington, Jr. John was a mischievous young man of about 16 years old when he traveled on the Mayflower with his parents John Sr. and Eleanor and his younger brother Francis.

He and his brother were known for their pranks on board ship and once they landed in Plymouth they continued with their trouble-making ways. At some point, young John became lost in the woods outside of town and was found and returned by the local Indians. This was the setting for the book, John Billington: Friend of Squanto. John Billington, Jr became sick soon after this incident and died at a young age. His father John Sr. is another story for another day. All the Billington descendants are through son Francis.

My proven Mayflower ancestors are Allerton, Billington, Brown (2 lines), Cooke, Howland (2 lines), Tilley, and Warren. I’m always happy to meet new cousins so let me know if we share an ancestor.

Ancestor Appreciation Day – September 27, 2015

Today (September 27, 2015) is Ancestor Appreciation Day. The ancestors I’ve chosen to remember today are my great-grandparents John McWherter and Jennie Toledo Cox. I didn’t get to meet them, but I grew up hearing stories about them and their lives.

John was born on February 5, 1865 in Clyde, Jasper County, Iowa to Aaron McWherter and Martha McQuiston, the 2nd of 11 children. He spent most of his early years in Iowa but the family did go back to his father Aaron’s hometown of Elkhart, Noble County, Indiana for a time around 1880. In 1895 however, John is living in Jasper County, Iowa. In the 1900 Federal Census John is listed as a farmer and living with his brother-in-law James Hale.

On November 23, 1904, 39 year old John McWherter married 18 year old Jennie Toledo Cox. Jennie was born November 10, 1886 in Braymer, Caldwell County, Missouri to George W Cox and Malinda Jane Lee. Not long after the marriage the couple moved from Missouri to St. Anthony, Fremont County, Idaho where their first child, Virgel Irene was born on October 19, 1905, the first of 13 children born to John and Leda as she is known in our family.

John died on April 6, 1951 in Blackfoot, Bingham County, Idaho and Leda followed him on June 19, 1954. They are buried in Grove City Cemetery in Blackfoot, surrounded by family members.

I grew up knowing or having met all of those children except Florence Roseline who died in 1949. Every year my family would travel from Southern Nevada (where my father had been stationed in the Air Force) to different parts of Idaho (one year in Wyoming) to attend the McWherter Family Reunion. All of the brothers and sisters and their families would be there and stories would be told and we would catch up on the news of the previous year.

John and Leda were hard-working farmers raising a family that has stuck together through the years. I still keep in touch with second cousins and third cousins or first cousins once and twice or even three times removed. John and Leda built a home and a family. I’m sure that one reason I have such a love of family and a desire to know as much as I can about my family and those who went before me is due in part to ancestors such as John and Leda.

A Volcano Among Us

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Last week, our county had a 100^th remembrance of an event that very few other places in the world can share. The eruption of a volcano. On May 22, 1915, Mount Lassen, the volcano that sits quietly overlooking our town erupted with vengeance, wiping out settlements, farms, and animals. Were you aware that a volcano erupted in California just a hundred years ago? Neither was I. What a surprise it was to learn that the gentle mountain looking down at me held such a secret.

I grew up in the neighboring state of Nevada and I remember being told in school that volcanos in the continental U.S. were extinct. That the only active volcanos were in Hawaii. Not true, I know now. When Mount Lassen began its long 48 hour eruption it was night. The mountain began rumbling but the people took little notice. It was the giant mud-slide that got their attention. The Red Bluff Daily News has a wonderful pull-out section on the Anniversary, giving the history and actual news accounts of the day at www.redbluffdailynews.com under Special Publications.

What could have been a disaster for the people of Tehama and Shasta Counties was avoided because people cared about each other. They warned one another of the coming danger and helped others escape the path of mud heading down the mountain. This episode made me curious about the dangers we face in our towns and counties today. Do you rely on your local government to help you face the onslaughts heading your way or do you turn to friends, neighbors and family when you see floods, fires, and volcanoes?

Remembering the 100^th Anniversary also caused me to wonder about other disasters that might have happened in areas in which my family lived in the past. If I didn’t know about a volcanic eruption what other disasters have I missed in my research? It isn’t always very easy to find out about those local disasters if they didn’t make the national or international news. Sometimes though, you might see clusters of information that help you decipher what really happened. If you see family members moving suddenly from one area to another, look at county histories and try to learn what caused people to move in or out of the area. Was it a flood, a famine, or disease? Did a new opportunity spring up in a new area, like gold being discovered in California? Or maybe land was now available in an area that previously belonged to another country?

To understand our family and our past we have to understand what drove those original settlers. Knowing what circumstances made them into the people they were can only better help us to understand the person we are today. Learn more about that volcano sitting in your backyard.                                             

Interruptions of Life

Yes, I know I’ve been gone a while, life interrupts. I’m sure I’m not the only one for whom life intrudes on plans and goals and at times makes complete changes to pathways and roads on which we travel. As I travel to my job out of town, I drive down an old highway that meanders over to the coast of California. I don’t get to travel that far, my stop is just forty miles from home. But in that forty miles, I travel from a populated, wi-fi, cell phone enabled area to an area that modern time has not yet found.

I see animals that still make their homes in Northern California, I see mountain creeks and trees that have grown in odd places. And I see wilderness. The wildness around me helps me to better picture how my ancestors lived in this same area 150 years earlier. I think of Marietta Henshaw Merritt. I think of Eujane and Roswell Graves. I think of those others I have yet to write about.

On my daily drive to work I see abundant game animals such as turkeys, geese, ducks, and deer. The water is plentiful. Eagles flying overhead tell me there are even more animals that I don’t see. In all that beauty I also see the hardships. Disease and hunger. Loneliness. Cemeteries.

I drive down this road that has twists and turns, hills and valleys. Times in which I don’t know what might be around that corner or over that hill, but I take the chance. The road on which I travel led men to seek out gold, and to create logging camps, to build cities and states. To build families and legacies. Today, I think of all those who came before me, sacrificing so much, working in conditions we will never truly understand, so that I have the freedom and luxury to choose where to live and where to work. And how to worship.

I think of my family tree and what it means to be just one small part of such a large group. Today, stop and look around, feel what life must have been like for your ancestors. And think on them.

James Whitecotton, Kentucky Soldier

James Whitecotton was born March 14, 1750 in Stafford, Virginia to George Whitecotton and Mary Harris. James married Ruth Newton Hudspeth about 1771, there is some confusion about Ruth’s name, but it appears Newton was her maiden name and Hudspeth a married name. Ruth was also born about 1750 and died sometime after 1840 when she signed an affidavit in which she stated she was then 75 years old, but that date does not match up with the birth of her children so it is more likely she was at least 85 years old in 1840. There are no records found of Ruth Whitecotton after 1840.

James and Ruth had 10 children, all of whom lived to adulthood and married. They have thousands of descendants roaming around the world. My own circle of known descendants numbers in the hundreds itself.

In 1776, James enlisted as a Private in Captain William Fountain’s Company in Virginia. Serving under Colonel Charles Scott, this company marched across Virginia near what is now Norfolk, at that time it was known as Long Bridge or Great Bridge. On December 9, 1775 the company engaged in battle with the British. The bridge was on the main road connecting Virginia to North Carolina, a very important and strategic holding for the Continental Army. James Whitecotton fought in this battle and was part of the victory forcing the British to evacuate Norfolk and later to totally retreat from Virginia. This defeat caused the British to lose their supporters in Virginia and was a huge victory for the Continental Army.

In 1778, James Whitecotton re-enlisted under General George Rogers Clark. If you are not from Indiana or Kentucky, the name George Rogers Clark probably has no great meaning, but in those areas Clark is revered to this day. General Clark was the brother of William Clark (of Lewis and Clark fame). Under Gen. Clark, James Whitecotton was in the company that marched from Kentucky to Kaskaskia, Illinois. They were then able to capture Vincennes, Indiana from the British. George Rogers Clark and his company of men fought on the Northwestern frontier and marched across much of Indiana and Illinois fighting the British and their allies, the Native Americans.

By 1800, James and Ruth with their children, had moved to Kentucky. They settled in Washington County, near Bardstown. James and Ruth did not own slaves, but I doubt it was for ideological reasons, but more likely because of lack of funds and resources. From 1800 through 1840, James can be found listed in the U.S. Federal Census in Washington and later Marion Counties (Marion was formed from part of Washington County in 1834).

When we think of James marching across Virginia to Kentucky to Illinois, I think many times we picture these places as we’ve seen them today. However, once we realize that there were no troop transport trucks, no airships, no roads, we see things differently. In 1776, these men walked hundreds of miles through brush and briars, finding their food along the way. They rowed boats down the Ohio River and waded through creeks and swamps, evading both human and animal prey. The hardships were enormous and difficult as they spent days and nights in the open and endless time away from their families.

While in Kentucky, I visited Lebanon National Cemetery where James Whitecotton was laid to rest. I stood on the Ohio River bank and tried to imagine crossing it in 1778. I visited the home of George Rogers Clark and wondered if James had been there at some time in the past. I wonder what James and Ruth thought as their children began to move from Kentucky to Missouri and their descendants moved even further west. James Whitecotton, a Kentucky soldier, died on June 7, 1849 in Pleasant Run, Kentucky. He was 99 years old. James and Ruth Whitecotton were my 6^th Great-grandparents. Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR) Patriot Index #1966, Sons of the American Revolution (SAR) Patriot Index #P-318654. I obtained much of my information through my own research, however I did also use the resources provided by Bettysgenealogyblog.

        

Loyalist daughter and Patriot son

Eugenia Clapp was born September 27, 1833 in Milford, Prince Edward County, Ontario, Canada.  Her father was Hiram Clapp and her mother was Rhoda Striker. Eugenia’s grandfather Sampson Striker was a Loyalist who strongly supported the British monarchy during the American Revolution serving as a Sergeant in Delaney’s Corp, he moved to Canada with his family after the war’s end. Eugenia, or Jane as she was commonly known, moved with her parents to Wisconsin sometime before 1854. It was in Wisconsin that Jane married Roswell Graves on August 18, 1857 in Wyocena, Columbia County, Wisconsin, she was 23 and he was 20 years old.

Roswell was born in Pennsylvania to Roswell Graves and Mary Ann Betts, the Graves family were Patriots during the Revolutionary War. Roswell’s paternal great-grandfather (also named Roswell Graves) died in the Old Sugar House British Prison in New York City in 1776, having been taken prisoner in the Battle of Long Island. His maternal great-grandfather Andrew Betts served as a Corporal in the Pennsylvania Militia. Two families who stood on opposite sides of the War of Independence melding with the marriage of Jane and Roswell. It must have made for interesting discussions around their family table.

Two years after they were married, Roswell was ordained a Methodist Preacher and served in local churches in Wisconsin and Iowa. In 1864 Jane and Roswell moved with their three young children to California. We don’t know what prompted this move from Iowa to wild, unsettled, wide-open California. They settled first in Solano County and it was here their 4^th child was born in 1865. Two years later they moved from Solano County to Walnut Grove in Sacramento County where their 5^th child was born in 1867, at this time Roswell changed from Methodism to Congregationalism. A year later they were in Contra Costa County where their 6^th child was born in 1868, and in 1872 they were in Battle Creek in Tehama County where their 7^th and final child was born.

Tehama County was sparsely populated, ranching country at this time. An article in the Sacramento Daily Union in November 1872 mentioned the north winds in Tehama County saying, “Those winds are the curse of this country. They make war against all living things. They blow the life out of the weak and the evil spirit into the strong”. It was in this country that Jane would make a home for her family on the South side of Battle Creek.

There were a few other families and ranches nearby, but the area in and around Battle Creek had experienced some troubles with the local Indians and was still a very wild and unsettled area. In 1866 Marie Dersch was killed by Indians a few miles north of Battle Creek on the Nobles Immigrant Trail and not long after that, the home of Simon and Arzilla Darrah was burned down at what is now the Darrah Springs Fish Hatchery. Jane’s knowledge of this recent history must have added to her discomfort of living in a small shack along the creek.

Just a short time after Jane’s daughter Bertha May was born in Battle Creek on August 24, 1872, the entire family came down with ague, pronounced āʹgyo͞o, it is an illness related to malaria with chills and fevers. The isolation and illness proved to be too much for Jane and their time in Tehama County was short-lived, within six months Jane and Roswell moved their family to Redding in Shasta County.

During this time in Redding, Roswell Graves performed the first wedding ceremony in Shasta County in June 1873 for a couple who traveled down from Weaverville (near the area mentioned in Cemetery Addict). Jane and Roswell spent the remainder of their time in Shasta County, serving at The Little Shasta Church near present-day Yreka. After Roswell’s death in 1883 Jane moved with her daughter Ella to Washington State where she died in 1912 at the age of 78.

Eugenia is one of the forgotten pioneers of California, moving with her husband and children across Northern California, she supported her husband as he brought the Gospel to the miners, loggers, and ranchers in the wilderness areas. Jane lived in Solano, Sacramento, Alameda, San Francisco, Tehama, Shasta, and Siskiyou Counties. She lived in areas where there were floods, earthquakes, Indian attacks, and disease. She lived at a time when women had very little resources to fall back on and in places where she had very little support from friends and no family to lean against. Through it all she kept her family together and provided for her children in the best way she could. Roswell was my 1st cousin 4x removed.

Roswell and Eugenia Graves
Photo and some information from the website of Faye West
http://www.fayewest.ca

My 5 Murphy’s Laws for Genealogists

1. The records you want are held in the next county over.

Experienced researchers know that when they are ready to travel to another state for research they should come prepared. Have a list of families with names and dates of those who lived in that area. This way we make the most of our time. Preparing also means knowing what records are available at the location. Umm, it also helps to know if the county you are researching was broken off from another county (or two) and the records for the two years you actually need are kept in the original county which is a two-hour drive away. This is a case of do as I say, not as I do. Don’t be like me, be prepared.

2. The cemetery you are looking for closed and all the records were lost when they reinterred the bodies at the new cemetery.

My 5th Great-grandmother Abigail, married 1st Russell E Post and married 2nd James Withrow in 1827 in Oxford, Ohio. She died sometime between 1850 and 1858, she was in the 1850 Federal Census in Oxford and family letters written between her grand-children in 1858 mention her estate. Armed with this information I traveled to Butler County, Ohio in search of a will, probate records or death information. I found none.

So I went to the library in Middletown and found a cemetery book written by Hazel Stroup. I glanced through the index, I found no family names, however the introduction looked interesting so I read it thinking I might gain some historical understanding of the area. And that I did. Turns out there were 2 Oxford Cemeteries. The original one was closed in 1855 and the land sold for a new rail line and most (note that word) of the graves were disinterred and moved to the “new” cemetery. The next line in Stroup’s book was the most interesting to me, “and Abigail Withrow was one of the first 5 burials in the new cemetery on March 7, 1856″. I drove to Oxford and went to the oldest section of the cemetery and there was a section with her son, son-in-law, and some grandchildren. And there was one extremely old stone, the writing too worn to read and I knew I had found Abigail.

3. The Family Bible, Pension Records, Will, lists all the marriages except the one you need.

I’m sure I’m not the only one to whom this has happened. You learn that someone out there in “internet-land” has the family Bible. You send an email, and oh so nicely, ask for a copy of all the handwritten pages. And to your shock, it shows up in your in-box within days. You are excited when you open that email and then… Every child’s marriage is listed except your ancestor’s. Why? I asked when it happened to me. Why couldn’t someone list John Allen’s marriages? Is it because he had so many? Fourteen children that I know of and not one of them could write down their mother’s name. I have to write my mother’s name whenever I want to access my bank account and these people managed to live their entire lives without telling anyone the name of their mother. Oh the humanity!

4. Unless they come from two entirely separate continents, your parents are related.

I was living in Kentucky and having a late-night phone conversation with my mother on the West Coast. She was telling me a story about an in-law of her ancestor who was supposed to be the mid-wife at Abraham Lincoln’s birth. Confused, I looked at my tree and said, “Hendrick Enloes had a daughter, not a son.” I looked closer at the daughter, Hester, and said, “Oh my gosh, Mom. She’s Dad’s line, you are the son’s line!” Since then, we’ve found other times where they are interconnected so I’ve had to learn to live with it. Does that make me my own Grandma?

5. Your family line is not listed in the History of (fill in the blank) Family. 

There are many wonderful family history and local history books out there. For my family lines I have the Doty book (it stops right where I need to make the connection). In the Chaffee book, William H Chaffee lists my ancestor as Rhoda An Fluery married to Ambrose Worthington Chaffee, not Rhoda An Doty as her children and husband name her. In the Allen book, Your Royal Lineage, Valerie Larson lists my ancestor John Allen married to Marion Hurd, Marion didn’t seem to exist (just like Alford Abner Sisley).

Don’t let those Murphy’s Laws hold you back. When happenstance seems to come against you, renounce Murphy, keep strong and don’t let him discourage you as that seems to be his goal. As you work those family lines and things seem to be falling together easily, watch out. Murphy is hanging out just around the corner. He’s peeking at your work, smirking as he says to himself, “They think Catherine is the same lady, haha, it’s a new wife and they can’t tell.” Keep alert for Murphy and his laws. You can work around him, just be prepared.

Finding Fern, Researching Outside The Box

My grandfather Kenneth Chaffee, always carried in his wallet a photograph of a boy and girl. He would show it to me and tell me this was his brother Olney Sisley and his sister Pearl Chaffee. Olney was his mother’s son (learn more about her in my post Puppy’s at the Bottom) and Pearl was his father’s daughter so they were not related to each other but both were half-siblings of my grandfather. Kenneth’s parents divorced just before he was born so he never met Pearl. Olney died at the age of 17 in 1912 when my grandfather was about 8 years old. My grandfather always wished he could find Pearl but he died in Las Vegas (where we lived) in 1979 without ever having found her.

My mother has the genealogy bug (that’s who I inherited it from). So she, Kenneth’s daughter, began researching her father’s family. There was little information at the beginning and this was before Ancestry.com and the internet was in its infancy. Kenneth’s father Ambrose Chaffee was living in South Dakota in 1906 according to records found in court proceedings. After that he disappears. What to do next? In 1999, my mother did a purely random, out-of-the blue, search in a North Dakota database on USGenWeb.org for any Chaffee. She found an index for a land record.

Armed with this new information, she quickly ordered a copy of the 1920 Federal Census from the library and eagerly searched for Ambrose Chaffee (before the days of indexing). There he was! Married to a Grace with a daughter Fern. Who were they? Fern Chaffee was 7 years old in 1920 and born in North Dakota. Remember, this was 1999 so there was no 1930 Federal Census released yet. And in 1999 Fern Chaffee would be 86 years old if she were still living. So my now very excited mother posted a query on a North Dakota USGenWeb.org site seeking information about Ambrose Chaffee married to Grace with a daughter Fern.

Within days of the query, a very kind woman in Minneapolis answered and said she grew up in the house next-door to this family and she remembered that Fern married a man named Kenneth King and moved to Las Vegas. What?? Las Vegas???? That is where we lived and where my grandfather Kenneth Chaffee had died. So my mother grabbed the phone book (1999 remember) and found 3 “F. Kings” listed. She called each of them and left messages about Ambrose Chaffee.

Fern Chaffee King was the only one of the three who returned the call. As expected, she was a very skeptical 86-year old woman and didn’t really believe my mother’s story that her father Ambrose had a third marriage. Fern grew up knowing her half-sister Pearl Chaffee but had never heard about a brother. Fern and my mother agreed to meet at a local restaurant and both coincidently brought the same photograph of Pearl and Olney which sealed the deal. My mother had finally met her Aunt Fern. Aunt Fern learned about family she never knew.

Fern and my mother developed a close relationship and shared stories by phone and visits. Pearl Chaffee had died in 1932 leaving behind 2 young sons. These sons had eventually moved to Las Vegas and Fern had followed in 1988 a few years after the death of her husband.

Fern died on May 2, 2014 in Las Vegas, she had celebrated her 100^th birthday the previous December (the last time I was able to see her). Fern was excited to learn about her new family and at one point we learned her father had another marriage with yet another child. We were able to meet even more family as the daughter of Leroy “Chaffee” Owens made the trip to Las Vegas to meet her new Aunt Fern and cousin.

Finding new family is an amazing experience. Having them accept you and the new information you share is even more amazing. When you are trying to break through your brick walls, think outside the box. Look for tax records and land records and even phone books in surrounding states. And don’t forget to post those queries. Maybe you too will find your Fern.

My Grandfather Kenneth Chaffee and his siblings

A Perfect Courthouse

I had a dream about the perfect courthouse for genealogical research. My perfect courthouse was not in a basement smelling of mold and mildew. It was not a room furnished with old wooden benches with splinters that dug into my legs and one old scarred wooden table that I couldn’t write on without piling up notebooks to give myself an even level on which to write. It was not hot in winter and cold in the summer.

My perfect courthouse was a new, sparkling glass, climate controlled building with tables big enough to spread my working materials out and comfy, pillowy chairs on which to sit for hours and the records room was on the first floor in an easily accessible, brightly lit room. In my perfect courthouse all the records I want are filed correctly and never missing and filed at eye level so short people like me (in my family we call ourselves normal and everyone else is a giant) can read and reach. My perfect courthouse has workers who are as much enthralled with genealogy and history as I am and they enjoy conversations about interesting topics like cemeteries and county histories and when the first marriage was recorded. And my perfect courthouse is filled with researchers having fun.

In my perfect courthouse, there has never been a fire or a flood. The records are not dry and brittle and the ink is not fading. In my perfect courthouse, they recorded every marriage and actually kept the records and I finally learned the name of my 4^th great-grandmother. Ah, my perfect courthouse was a wonder to behold, but alas, I awoke to find my perfect courthouse fading away in a wisp of smoke.

So I am faced once more with the difficulty of deciphering 19^th century script written with faded ink on brittle paper. I search for names like Sisley that are spelled in a hundred different ways with the S interchangeable with C and the other letters used however the writer felt at the moment, sometimes Sisley, sometimes Ceslee, or maybe it is filed under Z. So many choices.

There are some wonderful and remarkable courthouses throughout the United States that house interesting collections. If you get a chance, drive by the Decatur County Courthouse in Greensburg, Indiana, they have a tree growing through the roof! My New Year’s wish is that you get to do research in your perfect courthouse and this year find that one record which will break through your brick wall. Happy New Year.

Marietta E Henshaw

A stone monument in Oak Hill Cemetery in Red Bluff, California bears the simple words, “Marietta, wife of M. Merritt” and “Rosanna, daughter of M. and M.E. Merritt” with their birth and death dates engraved, telling us that Marietta died at 22 years old and Rosanna at 21 days. Who were Marietta and Rosanna and what circumstances led to such early deaths for mother and child?

Marietta E Henshaw was born in 1856 in Iowa to James Henshaw and Margaret Trullinger. James was a farmer and carpenter born in Ohio in 1815. Margaret was born in 1821 in Fountain County, Indiana. She was from a strong German family whose ancestor, Hans Michael Trullinger, emigrated from Germany to Pennsylvania in 1743 as part of the Palatine German Immigration to the United States. Each coming generation would see that family move further West, from New Jersey to Ohio, to Indiana, Iowa, Nebraska and then to California.

Marietta’s father served in Company L, Illinois 16^th Cavalry Regiment and died January 20, 1864 at Camp Nelson, Nicholasville, Kentucky during the Civil War. He is buried in Kentucky, Marietta was 8 years old and her sisters Elizabeth and Sarah were 9 and 12. Life on that Iowa farm must have been very difficult for Margaret Henshaw with a farm to run and three young children who still needed mothering.

On September 24, 1873 Marietta married Marion Merritt in Davis County, Iowa. In less than two years, Marion and Marietta would leave their families behind in Iowa and make the long and difficult trek to Red Bluff, Tehama County, California. We don’t know if they traveled by wagon over land or if they were able to take a train from Iowa to Sacramento and shorten the long overland trip. By whatever means they arrived, they would not be in California alone, Marion’s oldest brother, George Merritt was already living in Cottonwood, Tehama County, California and he and his children were eagerly awaiting the couple’s arrival.

Marion and Marietta settled on a ranch four miles north of the town of Red Bluff on the Sacramento River. It was here they started their new lives in California. How different the area must have seemed as compared to that in Iowa, with the fruit trees and green grass in winter. Winter wheat was a major crop in the area at the time. Growing wheat in winter was unheard of in the Midwest. Marietta often visited with her neighbor, Mrs. Pierce who lived less than a mile from the ranch on the Humboldt Road. In 1875, according to the book “History of Davis County, Iowa” Marion was said to be “engaged in lumbering and later farming” in Red Bluff.

Sadly, Marion’s brother George would die in 1876 at the age of 44, leaving behind six children, three of them under the age of eighteen. He is buried in the Cottonwood Creek Ranch Cemetery. George was able to send a letter to his sons in the lumber camp asking them to come down the mountain to see him. He had been sick with chills since he had returned from the camp three weeks earlier. Writing to his son Frank he said, “I am in an offel fix I think”.

On Wednesday, June 26, 1878 Marietta gave birth to their daughter Rosanna. It is likely that she had other pregnancies during their 5 years of marriage but this is the only one recorded. Tragically, the baby would die only weeks later. According to friends and family, from that time on Marietta would be subject to bouts of depression. One can only imagine the doubts and self-incriminations Marietta placed upon herself and we can wonder whether the isolation of the area and the times played a part in coming events.

On Friday, December 6, 1878 Marietta walked through the fields to her neighbor’s house one final time. She spent most of the day visiting with Mrs. Pierce and the newspaper reports that as she left, she casually asked Mrs. Pierce for some strychnine because the rats had become “somewhat troublesome” around her house. At 4 pm, her husband and a ranch-hand heard loud screaming coming from the home and rushing in, they found Marietta alone, screaming and thrashing and suffering greatly. The ranch-hand quickly ran to town stopping first at the nearest house and sending Mrs. Pierce back to help Marion. Dr. G.W. Westlake returned within an hour but there was nothing that could be done. Mrs. Pierce told the doctor about the poison. Marietta was 22 years old, her sad death chronicled in The Daily People’s Cause, Red Bluff’s local paper at the time.

Marietta’s funeral took place on Sunday morning, December 8 at 10 am at her home, the Reverend J.E. Fisher conducted the services. According to the newspaper a large number of friends and acquaintances attended. A large procession passed through town for the final interment at Oak Hill Cemetery. Marietta was buried next to her daughter. The monument in their memories still stands today as a stark reminder of how difficult life was in the 19^th century.

Marion left Red Bluff in 1880, he had watched his brother die, his child and finally his wife, there appeared to be nothing more than memories tying him to California. We can only wonder about his last day, did he visit their graves before he left? He returned to Iowa and in 1882 married Magdalena Bircheinier. They had 2 daughters, Ida was born in Missouri in 1884 and died at the age of one year on January 12, 1885. Effie was born in Missouri in 1886 and was three years old when she died on August 25, 1889. Marion Merritt died in a tragic work accident on October 31, 1890 when a falling brick struck him on the head, he was 39 years old.

As Christmas nears, I think of Marietta and how she must have dreaded that first Christmas after the loss of her baby girl. My heart breaks for what she went through and the losses she experienced. Marietta Henshaw was my first cousin 4x removed.

Research Documents

1860 FC Lick Creek, Davis, Iowa; Roll: M653_317; Page 739; Image 227; Family History Library Film: 803317

1870 FC Fox River, Davis, Iowa; Roll: M593_386; Page 68B; Image 142; Family History Library Film: 545885

Ancestry.com. Iowa, Select Marriages, 1809-1992 [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc, 2014. Original data: Iowa, Marriages, 1809-1992. Salt Lake City, Utah: FamilySearch, 2013.

Obituary: The Daily People’s Cause, Red Bluff, CA 7 Dec 1878

Ancestry.com. U.S., Registers of Deaths of Volunteers, 1861-1865 [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2012. Original data: Registers of Deaths of Volunteers, compiled 1861–1865. ARC ID: 656639. Records of the Adjutant General’s Office, 1780’s–1917. Record Group 94. National Archives at Washington, D.C.

History of Davis County, Iowa: Des Moines: Iowa Historical Company, 1882

Ancestry.com. California, Voter Registers, 1866-1898 [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2011. Original data: Great Registers, 1866–1898. Microfilm, 185 rolls. California State Library, Sacramento, California.

Newspaper article of Funeral: The Daily People’s Cause, Red Bluff, CA 9 Dec 1878

Ancestry.com. U.S. and Canada, Passenger and Immigration Lists Index, 1500s-1900s [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc, 2010. Original data: Filby, P. William, ed. Passenger and Immigration Lists Index, 1500s-1900s. Farmington Hills, MI, USA: Gale Research, 2012.