52 Ancestors 2019: Week 4. "I'd like to meet the Brumbeloes"

Who, having done research on their family can pick just one ancestor to meet?  For me, I would have to say the best I can do is to narrow it down to a family unit.  There is a particular family in my tree for whom I have a fascination: the Brumbeloes.  This family lived through the Civil War, Reconstruction, abandonment, prostitution and murder.  Each family member has a fascinating story to tell. 

I credit the strength of the Brumbeloe/Brumbelow family with their mother, Martha Wilson Brumbeloe.  Throughout the decades, Martha can be seen living with her children, petitioning courts for restitution and doing all she can to keep her family together.  Her strength and example was passed on to her children as they faced their own trials and tribulations.

The daughter of James Wilson and Nancy Ann Ritter,  Martha Wilson was born 14 March 1816 in Upson County, Georgia.  She married Emanuel Joseph Brumbeloe/Brumbelow on 24 May 1835 and together they had seven children:  Camelius (1835-1900), Amanda Melvina (1838-1914), Lydia Louisa (1842 -?), William A. "Major" (1844-1862), Joseph H. (1846-1921), Georgia Ann (1855-1900) and Leanna (1856-1936).  Small bits and pieces of their lives have surfaced through court and military records, school and census records, and remnants of local newspaper articles.  Here is their story.

Martha was born and raised in Upson County, Georgia.  How she met her husband E.J. (as he is referred to in most documents) is not known.  Emanuel Joseph Brumbeloe was born in North Carolina in 1808, and moved with his family to Upson County around 1813.  As he was merely 5 years old at the time, it is possible that the Wilson and Brumebloe families were acquainted, but how E.J. and Martha met and courted is unknown.  At any rate, they meet and married when E.J. was 27 and Martha was 19 years old.

Between the years of 1838 and 1856, Martha and E.J. produced seven children.   For the most part, all the children received an education, if not somewhat intermittently.  As they are listed in the Poor School records for the county (see usgwarchives.net/ga/upson/history), it is supposed they struggled financially.  And then the war hit.

We lose site of E.J. in 1857.  There are no muster records for him.  There is no death certificate. He simply disappears.  The eldest son, Camelius, steps up to support the family.  Camelius aids the Confederate cause by remaining at home and working his pottery business. He supplies the military with various clay items needed for the war, including spittoons.  Correspondence between Camelius and his commanders can be seen on the website Fold3.  We know he is a bit of a rascal as a court document survives charging him with "playing and betting at cards." (Georgia, Upson County, Judge of the Superior Courts of the Flint Circuit, 11th June 1859.)

All that remains of JugTown in Upson County where Camelius made pottery for the Confederate Army.

Second son, William A. "Major," went off to war.  Sadly, it isn't long before he is killed in action at the Battle of McDowell in Highland, Virginia. He was just 18 years old.  I wonder at Major's influence over his younger brother, Joseph.  I think that perhaps Joseph wanted to be like his elder brother, so he lies about his age and follows Major in joining the Confederate Army.  Joseph is only 15 years old when he witnesses the horrors of war on the battlefield. His military records indicate that he is released from his duties and sent home "due to extreme youth."  This discharge happens just weeks after his brother's death. 

Joseph returns home and family lore states that he was known as the town drunk.  He never married and never had any children.  I can only imagine that he suffered greatly from what today we call PTSD.  I visited the battle site in Highland, Virginia.  Today it is quite serene.  It is hard to envision the brutal sight that these boys witnessed.  My heart softens when I see in records that throughout the remainder of Joseph's life, his siblings kept him close in their homes and cared for him.

Joseph H. Brumbeloe.

The war also affected the Brumbeloe girls.  Amanda Melvina, my 3rd great grandmother, married Ulysses J. Daniel.  Their time together was short lived.  While their union produced two children, Louisa and Chesley, Ulysses disappears in the 1860s and is never heard from again.  Amanda presses forward as a single mother trying to survive and raise her children during very uncertain times.

Lydia Louisa (for whom my 2nd great grandmother is named) is listed as a prostitute in the 1860 census.  At the age of 16, Lydia married Burwell Mack Denson, and after becoming pregnant with their son, was abandoned by her husband.  Records indicate that the two divorced just a year after the marriage took place. Who knows?  Perhaps it was a shotgun marriage and he abandoned her shortly thereafter.  Needless to say, we have another Brumbeloe mother left to struggle on her own.  Brother Camelius steps in and takes in not only his sister Lydia and her baby, but also Lydia's sister in law and children who also are now fatherless. 

The 1860 census shows the occupation of "Prostitute" for both Lydia and her sister in law, Maranda H. Denson.  To me this occupation listing in the census appeared to be both bold and disturbing.  Could this really be considered an occupation acceptable to place in a census record?  Further research showed me that not only was it acceptable, but it was common.  Women did what they had to in order to feed their children.

Little is known at this time about Martha and E.J.'s daughter Georgia Ann Brumbeloe.  Born in 1855, she is found enumerated with her mother, Martha until the 1880 census where she can be seen living with local doctor Benjamin Franklin Newsome.  There is quite a bit of controversy surrounding Dr. Benjamin F. Newsome and his brother, Dr. George W. Newsome.  The brothers are known to have fathered a number of children in the local area.  Over the years, a few of the Brumbeloe daughters can be seen living with one of the doctors and claiming the occupation of  "housekeeper." Amanda lived with Dr George Newsome as his housekeeper in 1900, and Lydia Brumebloe Denson had two illegitmate sons with Dr. Benjamin Franklin Newsome.  We don't know what Georgia Ann's connection with Dr. B.F. Newsome might have been.  The 1880 census merely states that she is "at home."

George W. Newsome, MD

Finally, we have Leanna Brumbeloe.  Leanna was born in 1856 and at the age of 16 married John R Duckworth.  Their union produced two children, but the marriage was a tumultuous one.  In 1880, Duckworth was murdered during an argument regarding his wife and a relationship with another man, Dubose Humphries.  The newspaper articles covering the event implies that based on comments made by Duckworth there may have been an affair between Humphries and Leanna.  Duckworth was under the assumption that the two were planning to run away together.  No further article or evidence shows that this was intended, and Leanna and Humphries never joined together after the Duckworth's death.  Leanna never remarries. She becomes another Brumbeloe mother raising two children on her own.

This family's strength and resolve to get through hard times is an inspiration. Given the opportunity I would love to sit down with them as a family and hear about their experiences from their point of view.  Where did the fathers disappear to?  What were the Newsome doctors to this family?  Were these women manipulated and controlled in return for sustenance to survive poverty and destitution?  The loss of a son in the war and the horrific psychological impact it had on another, affected not only Martha but the rest of her children who stuck by one another through thick and thin.

How did these events affect the way the each of these daughters raised their children?  Amanda Brumbeloe was the great grandmother of my own grandmother.  One thing my grandmother use to say to all of us granddaughters was "You don't need a man to survive.  Get an education and be prepared to take care of yourself."  Is this something passed on to her from Amanda, and then Louisa, on down?

The individual stories and experiences woven together make the tapestry that is the Brumbeloe family story.  No, there is not one ancestor I would like to meet, there is a whole family!

52 Ancestors 2019. Week 3: Unusual Name - Ruhamah

Everyone has an ancestor with an unusual name, but when you are from the South.... where do you begin?!  My ancestors found it natural to name their children after ranks in the military.  Commodore Lackey. General Wilson.  Major Brumbeloe.  Seriously, these are their names!  You think searching ancestors named John Smith brings up too many searches, try entering General Wilson and see how many hits you get on actual Generals and not people with that forename! It's crazy.

I've already written about my great grandmother whose name is Ollie Ossilean Posey.  That name is unusual, but since I've already spotlighted her, I've decided to cross over to my husband's ancestry (in this particular instance, also in the South).  Ruhamah.

 Ruhamah was born in 1822 in West Virginia and died some time before 1900.  We don't have a maiden name for her, but in the 1880 U.S. Federal Census she is listed as Ruhamah Dent, the mother in law for the Lafayette Shiflett family.  Lafayette Shiflett and his wife Nancy Louthry are my husband's 2nd great grandparents.  Their son, Parker, is my mother in law's grandfather.  These are names we have known and have been documented for decades.  Ruhamah, however, was not known, and until the 1880 census was scanned and made available on line, she was a blank line on a pedigree chart.  (Thank you volunteers who scan images! And thank you to those who index those images!)

Armed with a last name for Ruhamah, we were able to search for further documentation.  What we have found is a marriage record.   On 1 October 1868, Ruhamah Laugherty married Jacob Deft in Randolph County, West Virginia.  Score!  We have a marriage, and we have a name she used before she was a Deft... but wait!  Her daughter's maiden name is Louthry.  That's awfully close to Laugherty, and since we know that oftentimes names can have various spellings based on who is doing the writing and who is pronouncing the name, it most likely is the same.  But Louthry or Laugherty, whichever way we want to move forward (and yes, we should always use a variety of spellings when researching), this can mean one of two things: either Ruhamah was married prior to Deft or her daughter Nancy was illegitimate.

If we go by her assumed birth year in the 1880 census, then in 1868, when Ruhamah married Jacob Deft, she was 42 years old.  Her daughter, Nancy, was 26 years old.  Nancy being born in 1854 would have Ruhamah being 32 years old.  So, this conceivably could mean that Louthry/Laugherty is from a previous marriage. 

In writing this blog post, I decided to do a new search on Ruhamah to see what more information I could find.  My search was not in vain.  In the 1860 census, we find Ruhamah's name transcribed as Ruamish on the census Index.  Looking at the actual record, I see the writing as Ruamiah Laugherty.  She is listed with her daughter Nancy C. (age 6) and son, Marion (age 3).  A son!  This is new!  This new lead will open up to further research on Ruhamah and her family.

But let's get back to her unusual name -- Ruhamah.  A search on Google lead me a baby naming site that states:  From Hebrew, meaning "the one who has been spared."  In the Bible, Hosea is told by God to name is daughter Lo-Ruhamah; later, God tells Hosea to call his daughter Ruhamah because she has been spared.  The name is commonly spelled without the final "h" in English, as well as in modern Israel."  www.babynamewizard.com

Ruhamah is such a lovely name! It is not one I have ever seen or heard before.  I have come across quite a few of these beautiful names while researching family history, that had I known of these names, my children might be going by something completely different today!  Then again... maybe it is best they have the names I did give them.  My own father, after having started his journey in family history, wanted to change my name to Hepzibah!  Hmmmm.... I think I will stick with Melyssa.

What unusual family names have you come across in your research? Have you passed those names on to your children?  Feel free to post in the comments.  I'd love to hear from you!

52 Ancestors 2019. Week Two: Challenge

I would say my biggest challenge at this point in my genealogical journey is archiving and sharing.  Let me explain.

In 2009, my parents tragically passed away.  Both of my parents were genealogists and well respected historians.  I was fortunate to inherit all of their research documents, photos, charts and books and articles they wrote.  In 2013, my grandfather passed away at the age of 97.  From him I inherited photos and letters dating back to the nineteen teens.  Fantastic! Right?  Yes, to an extent.  However, unless you live in a home that can serve as an active archival library, keeping and maintaining these treasures can be a challenge.

First, I tackled my parents' photos.  I scanned everything and began to place the images on Ancestry and FamilySearch where other relatives could enjoy them.  What good are they sitting in an album in a box in storage?  It was fun going down memory lane.  I saw photos of them with friends from back in the 1970s and thanks to Google and Facebook, was able to track some of those friends down and share the memories.  In return, I received countless stories about my folks that either were new to me or I had forgotten.  Hearing those stories was a blessing to me as I missed my parents intensely.

While at RootsTech2016, a gentleman who had heard I was at the conference tracked me down.  He was a follower of my father's work from when dad was Mayflower Historian General.  He heard my dad had passed away and inquired about the research my father had been doing on the Cooke family.  I had just seen some papers dad had on further research he was doing on the Cooke project and asked the gentleman if he would like them.  He was keen to receive them and I was happy to pass them along so that this man could continue the research where my father left off.

And then there were the photos and letters my granddad left.  The photos were easy enough.  Like I had done with my parents' pictures, I scanned and shared.  With all the photos I've inherited, I created Chatbooks and gave them as gifts to family members.  Now, what to do with the originals? I'm still working that out.  Some I have sent on to relatives and others I have placed in albums.  Some I have tossed.  I mean, who wants to hold onto albums of trips to Russia that has only pictures of places?  It wasn't my trip and they aren't my memories.  I asked around and no one wanted them.  You can't keep on to things just because your Granddad took the photo.  Still, it's hard to let go.

Now to the letters.  Treasures! I tell you that even the most mundane letters, when put together chronologically, tell a fascinating story.  My plan is to get all of the letters (and there are BOXES and BOXES of them!) put into an album, scan them into a publishing program and then transcribe them and have the book published with the transcriptions next to the letters.  Great!  Then what?  Where do we store these letters?  Offers to relatives come up empty.  My thought is to share them with the local historical society in the town where Granddaddy grew up.  I'm not ready to part with them today, but I won't always be around and I would hate for them to be tossed in some arbitrary clean up done after I'm deceased.

The saying is true: When a person dies, a library dies with them.  Sadly, the reality is we can't keep everything. We have to be discerning on what we hang on to. While the originals may never find a permanent home, the images will at least be there for posterity on Ancestry and FamilySearch.

Feel free to comment and share your ideas on how you have preserved and archived the items you have inherited.

A Call to Action: Finding the Fallen

Quantico National Cemetery 2016

On July 30, 2016, in honor of the veterans of the Armed Forces, BillionGraves and the Boy Scouts of America will host the nationwide service project, Finding the Fallen.  We are asking for everyone’s help to make this project a success!  By joining the project, you will serve these heroes by photographing and logging the GPS locations of the headstones and markers in our national cemeteries and uploading them to the BillionGraves.com website.

To organize this commemorative event in your area, visit https://billiongraves.com/create-event/ Easy step by step instructions will guide you in selection of a National cemetery in your area and allow you to invite others to take part in this amazing project with you.

You will need to download the free Billiongraves app on your smart phone.  https://billiongraves.com/mobile-device

When you visit the cemetery, select the photo icon on the Billiongraves app.  You will notice the name of the cemetery appear on the camera screen.  From there just click and go!  Point the camera at each individual headstone.  Avoid wide shots that include other graves. Point and click! It is as easy as that!  Once you have taken pictures, return to the app homepage.  Click on the Photos icon and upload your images.  With just a few hours of your time and the use of a cell phone, you can help preserve the memory of a soldier.  

We need you to help make this service project a success!  BillionGraves and the Boy Scouts of America thank you for taking the time to honor our service men and women by taking part in Finding the Fallen.

For more information about Finding the Fallen visit billiongraves.com/finding-the-fallen.

Reflections of a GraveFinder -- They Were The Dash.

 

It is no secret that I love volunteering for BillionGraves.  I love that with so little effort and just a donation of my time, I can provide a resource for thousands of people searching for a record for their ancestor or loved one.  Pure and simple.  It’s me, my iPhone and a cemetery.   Step.  Point.  Click.  Move to the next headstone.  Step.  Point. Click.  And yet, it is not as simple as that.  There is the dash.

What do I mean by “the dash?”  I am sure by now you have heard it said that we all have two dates and a dash, and we better make that dash count.  What about those dashes I pass moment by moment as I individually photograph each grave?  Those dashes meant something to a lot of people.  What happened in those dashes affected the lives of others and should be remembered.

Over the past years I have photographed over 150 thousand headstones.  That is a lot of memorials.  Do I stop and think of each person as I move along?  Truthfully, no.  I sometimes zone out because the repetition of the process over a two to five hour timeframe can lead to one’s mind wandering.  But I do try to focus.  To me, it’s a matter of respect.

Each headstone has a name.  Sometimes, as I pass by, I state the name aloud and say hello.  I notice the religious symbol on the stone.  I read the epitaph. Sometimes there is a spouse buried there, as well.  Two feet to the left may be an infant child.  My heart melts and I get emotional as though suddenly this is my family and I am sharing in the loss.

There are the feelings of pride, too.  I have photographed in Arlington, Quantico and Gettysburg.  I have passed soldiers of all ranks and station.  Purple Heart recipients.  Some who died in war and others who lived very long lives.  In my heart, I thank them all for their service.  I say a silent prayer.

I see mementoes on or beside the headstones.  A case of beer and a pack of cigarettes.  Teddy bears.  Matchbox cars.  A rock.  A dime.  Sometimes even a black box, holding who knows what?  I don’t look inside.  It’s sacred.  All memories relating to the dash.

And sometimes I meet the families.  Typically, when I photograph a cemetery and mourners come to pay their respects, I will stop photographing.  I move away or go somewhere else in the cemetery so as to give the visitors privacy.  Sometimes I am so focused I don’t see the family members walk towards me, curious as to what I am doing here.  Did I lose a loved one, as well?  Did I know their father?  Mother?  Friend?  No.  I am here for record preservation purposes only.  After a brief explanation of why I am in the cemetery, the real interaction begins.  The family members want to share their experiences about their loved ones.  They want the stories told.  I’m here to preserve the dates.  They are here to remember the dash.

What I do is easy.  It’s just me, the iPhone and a cemetery.  Step. Point. Click.  Move to the next headstone.  But as volunteers for any genealogical project, may we pause to remember for whom we are doing this work?  What we do goes beyond record preservation.  May our work reflect our respect for the name engraved on the stone.  They are more than just a name and two dates.  They were the dash.