A Long, Hard Journey

I've been re-reading one of my favorite books--A Voyage Long and Strange--by Tony Horwitz, who describes Norse, Spanish, and French exploration and settlement of the U.S. that took place long before the Pilgrims and the Jamestown settlers arrived in the 1600's. Chapter 2 is titled, "The Hidden Half of the Globe" and tells about Christopher Columbus' four voyages to the New World. Columbus kept a journal, so we have his thoughts and observations more or less firsthand. (The original manuscript isn't around anymore, but it was at least published before being lost.)

Every time I've read A Voyage Long and Strange (which, by the way, was Columbus' own way of describing the first trip from Spain to whichever island he landed on southeast of Florida), I've paused at the words the man wrote after his first experiences with the native Taino: "They ought to make good and skilled servants." He captured seven of them to take back to Spain with him and added in his journal, "After they learn our language I shall return them, unless Your Highnesses" (referring to Ferdinand and Isabella) "order that the entire population be taken to Castile, or held captive here. With 50 men you could subject everyone and make them do what you wished." [Credit here to Tony Horwitz' book, which everybody ought to get a copy of.]

We always think we'd like to meet our ancestors; we believe we'd have such a lot to talk about. The reality is we might not get along well with them at all. Their lives were--from our point of view now--complicated with moral issues that they probably didn't consider to be "moral issues," things they may never have had second thoughts about at all. 

And with that preface in mind--and before I tackle the Culbertsons (which may be an ordeal, but an intriguing one!)--we're going to take a look at the Claughton side of Mother's family. 

Again, if you're not a descendant of Lillian Luke Tolbert, you may not want to read this post. However, on the chance that you might recognize an ancestor you need to chase down, give it a glance.

First, the tree.

I am sure of these particular lines going back. Past James L. Claughton, or James Luke, I am NOT certain. So I'm going to start with James Claughton, born in Virginia, who was my direct ancestor and who lived in Alabama as a planter in the 1800's before the Civil War.

There were several Claughton families in Northumberland County, Virginia, in 1810; in 1830 there were only two which could've been James's, although he would've been 18 by that time, and perhaps wasn't living there anymore.

1830 Northumberland County VA

 
On censuses from that time, there are no names except for heads of the household--which James was NOT--in 1830. This puzzle is one I'm working on; later, if I get it worked out, I'll let you all know. There were Claughtons in Virginia all the way into the 1600's, but I'm not sure enough of the line to post about it yet. The James Claughton who was born in 1629 was probably the ancestor of "my" James of 1812. I could write at least three posts covering the many fascinating land transactions and court proceedings about the older James and his descendants up till about 1740! 

Everybody who's familiar with censuses knows they aren't always believable, but the reassuring thing about James Claughton is that he ALWAYS said, every time, that he had been born in Virginia. And then there's this: 

Tombstone of James L. Claughton

When he died, his wife Sarah Taylor had this tombstone installed at his grave in Selma, AL. He was a "farmer," as he put it...the owner of considerable land which produced cotton in Dallas County, Alabama. In 1860 he was well-to-do, for those times. He said his personal and real estate combined were worth about $25,000. Converting that amount into current value means he would've been worth at least $700,000 today. However, right down the road was someone who'd be worth over $5.5 million in 2018. I'm including here a couple of full pages from the 1860 Dallas County, AL, census.

1860 Dallas County AL

1860 Dallas County AL

There were people from Ireland, Virginia, Georgia, Maryland, Ohio; it would seem to have been a rather cosmopolitan neighborhood. And look at the varied occupations of the people--railroad engineer, miner, lawyer, physician, blacksmith, Baptist minister!  

Today's historians recognize that there's a very dark side to this picture of wealthy Southern families of the 1860's who owned land, and this is it: Like so many people of that era, James (and other people on these pages) had slaves.

And James had fought Native Americans in Alabama during the mid-1830's when they'd been given two choices by Andrew Jackson: sell their "land allotments" and use the money to move west; or stay and, renouncing tribal membership, become citizens subject to all federal laws. Most of the Creek found both these options unacceptable and chose to resist. There were skirmishes with the white population, and thus the "war" was fought--which ultimately ended in the natives' removal, anyway. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Creek_War_of_1836 

All this happened at a time when James was maybe getting established in Alabama.

He married Nancy C. King in Dallas County in 1840, though she must have died sometime between 1842 and 1844.

James and Nancy had a son, William F., who--at the age of 7 in 1850--was living in the house of Benajuh and Rebecca King, his grandparents who resided not too far down the road from James and his second wife, Sarah Taylor. (By 1860 William was living with his father.)

1850 Dallas County AL

1850 Dallas County AL

Sarah applied for a pension about five or so years after James died in 1888. Until I found this particular record recently, I'd had no idea he'd been involved in the 2nd Creek War in the mid-1830's, before he married Nancy King in Dallas County. 

I sometimes think I'd love to have been able to talk to certain Founding Fathers, or to a couple of my ancestors, as I said above--but would I? A man who had participated in the removal of Native Americans from the area where he later lived, who owned slaves he considered part of his "estate"--where would we even BEGIN to have a conversation?

After the Civil War, the assessed value of James's properties diminished considerably, as did his neighbors'. Times were different, then. Where, in 1860, several of the children in the neighborhood (especially the young men) had been listed as "at school" (possibly university), by 1870 James's sons Thomas "Tom" and Richard were described as "Farm laborers." One daughter was "at school," but not the other children. 

1870 Dallas County AL

Much later on, in 1924, James's son William E. Claughton died in Selma, Alabama.

James's daughter Mickie (or "Meckie", as she's listed in several places) Matilda also died in Selma, in 1932. She had been married to William M. Johnson; in 1880's census she and her own family of five were shown living with her parents, James L. and Sarah Claughton. I mention these two deaths in the hope that a descendant may have further information about James and Sarah.

In October of 1872 Tom married Ella Sellers, daughter of Alexander and Sarah Sellers (I THINK). 

Notice that they apparently had to post a bond to ensure that nobody could challenge their right to marry! In 1880 he had a small family with four children, including Lillie (born around 1874) and Rosa, my great-grandmother (born in January, 1876). 

The next time I see anything about Rosa is 1900, when she shows up in Kemper County, Mississippi, married to Alanzo Luke. The census says they've been married for seven years, and they have three children, one of whom is my beautiful grandmother Lillian who died so young and left two babies behind.

1900 Kemper County MS

I can't find Tom and Ella Claughton after 1880, when they were in Dallas County, Alabama. Rosa Claughton lived to be 94 years old; I remember her myself, and of course my mother visited her fairly often. Mother said that Rosa told her that Tom died when Rosa was around 12 or 13, though Mother didn't know the circumstances, and then "times got really hard." Ella took her children to Marion, in Lauderdale County, Mississippi, Rosa told Mother, where Robert Malone and his family lived. Rosa said her mother was related to Robert's first wife. Ella taught school to support the family. So sometime between 1880 and 1892 or so, Rosa met Alanzo "Lon" Luke and married him, and they moved to Kemper County, where they lived the rest of their lives.

Lon was, according to my father (who knew him), "the best old man ever." He was also deeply interested in the Choctaw culture and had friends among the Tribe who'd come by his farm from time to time and stay for a few days, working, choosing to sleep in the barn. Sometimes, according to Mother, Lon would go off on "rambles" with them, to places unknown, returning in a few days. 

Mother and other relatives always agreed that this was a "love match"--Rosa and Lon cared so much for each other that Rosa was devastated when he died at the age of 66. 

Rosa Claughton and Alanzo Luke

She moved from Longino (north of Philadelphia, MS) to Preston, where her married daughter May Goodin lived. 

Rosa's brother James Calvin died in 1957 in Amarillo, TX, at the age of 79, by the way;
 if a descendant of James Calvin who's reading this blog can help with other information about Tom and Ella, or further back than James L., let me know, please.


Mother said there was always something about Rosa that indicated she'd once known an easier life than the one she lived in Kemper County with Lon.

Rosa Claughton Luke

Rosa Claughton Luke and sister

Rosa Claughton Luke, sister, children

There's irony in this true story about James and Tom and Rosa: James--who had fought the Creek--produced a granddaughter who married a man with close ties among the Choctaw, who was fascinated by their culture and participated in it as much as he was allowed to. You have to wonder, then, whether you'd have any common ground to share with James, if you could be transported back to about 1845 and talk with him. You have to wonder if Rosa would have had any with her grandfather.

It occurred to me as I wrote this post that we have no idea what things we consider to be regular, normal parts of our lives now, which our own descendants will find incomprehensible. I started to say "may" find incomprehensible, but I think it's certain they won't understand some of the things we do now. They'll probably wonder how we could have been so unenlightened or unaware or whatever. 

And the river runs on....

Ælfwine

Back in Time, Part Two

We were just talking about Henry R. Tolbert and Mary (or Margaret) Ann Amanda Mott....

Here are Henry's parents.

I’ll start with a couple of interesting stories about the Tolberts. But before I do, you might glance here to figure out who’s who:

After the Civil War, Julia Elizabeth Tolbert (the daughter of Jack H. and Molly) married James F. “Jim” Mott. Jim had a sister named Mary (or Margaret) Amanda, who married Julia’s brother Henry (both, above). This, of course, made their children double first cousins.

My mother Cecil(e) Tolbert Alawine knew Julia Mott, who died in 1932, a couple of years before my mother married. Mother recalled to me that Julia (her great-great-aunt) told her stories about a time near the end of the Civil War, of being afraid when William Tecumseh Sherman was marching through parts of eastern Mississippi. Julia recalled how the family tried to hide household items by burying them here and there on the farm. She told Mother also that, after the Union army had passed through, the family had to find the places where the things had been interred, of course, and dig them back up. Check out this link for a glance at some research on Sherman’s path. http://www.nchgs.org/html/tracking_sherman_through_newton_county.html

Or, to read a Google online book on the history of Newton County (which includes a chapter or two on the march), click on this link. http://www.nchgs.org/History_of_Newton_County_Mississippi_1834-1894_by_A_J_Brown.pdf
 

I find it fascinating that my own mother knew someone who’d lived through the Civil War. She said her Great-aunt Julia had lots of things to tell.

And not all family history is pleasant.

Mother was born in 1916. Shortly after her second birthday, her mother Lillian Luke died of tuberculosis, leaving behind Mother and her brother Herman. Mother spent a lot of her youth at her Tolbert grandparents’ house and came to regard Ellie Mae and Nellie Grace (the youngest two daughters of Charles and Eliza) as sisters. They were, of course, actually her aunts, but were only a handful of years older than she. 

Passing so much time in the Tolbert household, she knew Julia Mott. And here’s the “rest of the story."

It seems that at some point after the war, but before or around about 1890, Jim and Henry decided to buy a crib (or “cradle”) and scythe. This was apparently a joint purchase; it was to be used for cutting oats, Mother said.

I never really believed oats were grown much in Mississippi, but here’s proof I was wrong. https://mississippigenealogy.com/history/history_of_agriculture.htm  
  
A quarrel developed over who was the primary owner of this cradle and scythe.

I pause here to remind you of how on a small farm a person would have had to use these tools. This must’ve been very hard work. For interesting background information on these devices, go to https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grain_cradle. 

At any rate, the quarrel was so serious that the brothers-in-law stopped speaking to each other. I don’t know who ended up with the tools, but Mother said that Jim refused to allow Julia to visit or talk to her brother, or, for that matter, to anyone in the Tolbert family. Mother remembered her great-aunt telling her that this situation continued for as many as forty years, until Jim died; and only then could Julia have conversation again with her brother.

On another note, here’s what’s represented as an early photo of John “Jack” H. Tolbert.

Comparing it with the one I KNOW to be of an older Jack, I’d say it’s likely the same person. There are a few things that haven’t changed so much—the shape of the left side of his face, the structure of his nose, the way the hair goes over the forehead.

The “stub” records here show Jack’s Civil War service. Jack, whose name changes through time from “Talbot” to “Talbert” to “Tolbert,” was married to Hester G. “Molly” Davidson (or Davison, as some show it).

Back in 1978, when Mother and I visited her Aunt Lou Tolbert Munn in House, MS, Lou reminisced quite a bit and said that Molly had a really thick accent. I wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly, at the time.

But on the 1880 census is a wonderful thing: People were asked where their parents had been born.

Now, here again a problem can arise. Either the census-taker could have been in a hurry, or maybe somebody just didn’t think it was his business where they came from. So you have blank columns out beside Julia’s name where the place of birth of Jack and Molly should’ve been written.

However, Molly, over in Neshoba County, reported that her mother had been born in North Carolina and her father in Ireland. That would account for what Lou Munn called her “thick accent!”

1880 Neshoba County MS

 
I’d like to go farther back with Molly, but at this time I haven’t. My imagination goes a little crazy with me sometimes; I know portraits were slow procedures at that time, and people HAD to maintain a solemn expression--but I see no joy in her face. She’d lost a child or two. Her young daughter Margaret lost her husband and raised her own children in Jack and Molly’s house after he died. Molly’s son and daughter were estranged from each other for many years. And so on.

The house where Henry R. and Amanda Mott Tolbert lived for a time in Edinburg MS was still standing in 1982. I photographed it during a visit there with my parents one summer. It was where the portraits of Henry, Amanda, Jack and Molly were hanging.

I wonder how long it stood after that summer—or if, by some chance, it’s still there. I hope someone knows. If you do, please tell me!

Ælfwine

The Never-ending Story

I'm glad I heard from Heidelberg University BEFORE I got the document I needed from 1752. Had I not, I might've stopped with the 1752 page, shrugged and said, "Well, that's that."

After all, Heidelberg proved a long-repeated story--that the Alewine ancestor had been a professor there--not to be true. If you recall, a fantastic researcher sorted through many possibilities, going all the way back to 1652, and found no one by any of the several possible names I supplied for the search. Those names included Alewine (and variations of it) and Genewyn, Genewyer, Generoeyer, etc.

The Illinois History and Lincoln Collection possesses a copy of the minutes of the Council of South Carolina in the 1750's. I had given up on finding anything except transcriptions here and there, but I did ask Illinois, and--as with the University of Heidelberg--the staff there was exceptionally, astoundingly helpful. They spent a number of days finding the pages I had requested.

The scribe who recorded these "petitions" for land grants did apparently have difficult-to-read handwriting, as a remark in some internet threads had indicated; but once a person stares at it enough, it's easily decipherable. So perhaps whoever objected to it just didn't stare long enough.

I, however, DID stare when I eagerly found the page Illinois sent. And then I said a rather bad word, out loud. Look for yourself:

December 1752 South Carolina Council minutes

Page 2

In three sections of the document, there are at least three spellings and variations of John George Alewine's surname. And all of them clearly have a "G" at the first. 

This wasn't what I expected to find, but I'm not a person to hide from facts. Someone writing down the "petitions" interpreted whatever John George said as starting with a harsh "G" sound.

We know that J.G. was German, and in the petition he has indicated that he recently arrived from Rotterdam on the ship Rowand (or possibly Snow Rowand; it's actually recorded both ways in other places on this document). Erin Thead has suggested that he must have pronounced his name--and obviously did NOT write it himself, as the clerk was doing all the writing--so who knows what the first part of the surname must've sounded like to a proper English-speaking fellow. The important thing, to me, is what's written in the left-hand column (a sort of summary of the contents in the right-hand section, presumably to help one keep track of the individuals who appeared before the Council):

Thus the last part of the name SOUNDED like "wine." That in itself eliminates the "-roeyer" or "-roeye" or whatever. To the right, it appears that the name could've been "-ewyn" and something else. Maybe the clerk was getting tired: That final version looks a little like "Garaway," the surname of a friend of mine long ago.

So, since the response from Heidelberg indicates that there was NEVER anyone associated with the university whose name began with the "Gene-" variations; and given my own research that shows that there's never even BEEN a name with any of those permutations, here's my theory:

John George, arriving from Rotterdam, spoke little, if any, English. He settled in an area of South Carolina known as "Dutch Fork," so known not for being Dutch but, instead, because many of the inhabitants spoke DEUTCH (German), so that was what English-speaking people called it. He may have pronounced his name in what seemed to the English clerk a guttural speech, but the "John" ("Johan?") and "George" ("Georg?") would have probably been recognizable.

It was the last name the clerk didn't know what to do with. He wrote it down three different ways. Through the years between 1752 and about 1780, his descendants spelled it as "Ellewine" and, finally, in 1800, as "Allewine" and "Alewine." They had to have known how to pronounce their own name, but someone was still trying to figure out how to spell it!

Erin theorizes this: The "-wein" in the left column looks like "definitive proof that he spoke his name rather than spelling or writing it. And it offers a very strong indication of how he pronounced the final syllable and in what accent: '-ein' does not imply French." She adds this: 

It's probably "fitting, appropriate" (as she said) that we won't likely have a definitive answer to this puzzle. So I'm just moving on. But I would've loved to be a fly on THAT wall back in 1752!

Next post: more on the Tolberts and Claughtons.


Ælfwine