Category: Family History

Uncovering Roots: How Family History and Gardening Nurture Emotional Wellness

Imagine stumbling upon a forgotten world hidden within your own home—a secret attic packed with trunks of letters, documents, and photos from distant lands like Germany and Sudetenland. Among these relics, you uncover chilling references to the Nazis, leaving you haunted by the echoes of the past. This is what happened to a couple I read about in one of my favorite historical fiction novels. They inherited the husband’s father’s house and discovered an attic filled with long-buried family secrets.

What intrigued me most was the wife’s insistence on continuing the investigation when the husband was ready to shut it down. The two had met as psychology majors in college, and she astutely connected their findings to the psychological importance of understanding family history. This story made me think—if gardening is well-known for its mental health benefits, could genealogy be another powerful tool for emotional wellness? It’s a question I couldn’t resist exploring.

Why is Emotional Genealogy Important?

Every living thing has origins and ancestors. We are all part of a chain of life. We owe our existence to those who came before us. Simply put, if they hadn’t lived, we would have no life. And yet, most people ignore their antecedents and have no knowledge of what and who preceded them. A tree cannot ignore its roots, or it will get no nourishment. The same is true for us. We can be nurtured by our roots, even if they weren’t healthy. They may have been toxic, but they also endowed us with intelligence, talents, and positive attributes. We can honor those who came before us, and what they endured so we could have life. It is possible to make sense of the dysfunction in our families by understanding where they originated and how they were handed down. And by understanding, we can decide not to pass the dysfunction on, and to change our family behavior patterns. And we can get relief from the rootlessness, so many of us feel. Finding out where we come from can give roots, solidity, and meaning to our lives. It can also help us to solve the mystery of who we really are.1

That one sentence resonates deeply with me: “And by understanding, we can decide not to pass the dysfunction on, and to change our family behavior patterns.”

This is how I choose to live—by understanding, breaking the cycle, and healing through that awareness.

Think about it: memories, triggered by a sight or sound, stir up emotions, whether good or bad. Our stories, passed down through generations, are meant to be remembered and shared. They shape who we are, how we live, and where we find ourselves today.

So, don’t shy away from the past. Dive into your family history, whether it shines with triumphs or hides an ugly truth. Knowledge is power, and understanding your heritage is the key to breaking patterns and paving a better way forward. Your story is a treasure—cherish it.

Image ChatGPT: “Image reflecting the theme of emotional wellness with gardening and family history.” September 9,2024.

  1. Fein, Judith. “What is Your Emotional Genealogy?” Psychology Today, 26 Jan. 2014, http://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/life-is-a-trip/201401/what-is-your-emotional-genealogy. Accessed 30 Oct. 2019. ↩︎

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Soldiers of the Surf: Celebrating 150 Years of the U.S. Life-Saving Service

October commemorated the 150th anniversary of the United States Life-Saving Service, the predecessor of today’s US Coast Guard, along the East Coast!

The United States Coast Guard is recognized for numerous achievements, with its primary focus in the public’s eye being its mission to assist those “in peril upon the seas.” In fact, every federal agency that contributed to the establishment of the modern Coast Guard played a role in aiding those in distress and working to prevent loss of life at sea.

For instance, the U.S. Lighthouse Service was responsible for maintaining lighthouses and navigational markers to alert ships to potential dangers. Lighthouse Keepers also provided assistance to individuals in peril near their stations. Additionally, there were other agencies, such as the U.S. Revenue Cutter Service, which aided mariners in distress at sea, and the Steamboat Inspection Service, tasked with preventing disasters before they occurred. Among these organizations, the one that significantly shaped the U.S. Coast Guard’s reputation as a lifesaving entity was the U.S. Life-Saving Service. It is essential to explore the history of this Service, as many of the U.S. Coast Guard’s search and rescue practices can be traced back to its foundational work.

During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, much of the eastern coastline of the United States was sparsely populated. Crews of ships that ran aground could anticipate minimal, if any, assistance. As maritime trade expanded, so did the need for support for vessels wrecked near the shore. Both coasts featured sandbars located 300 to 800 yards offshore. In the event of a storm, ships stranded on these sandbars often broke apart within hours. Very few individuals could endure a 300-yard swim through tumultuous surf with a temperature of 40 degrees.

In 1848, the federal government initiated its involvement in shore-based lifesaving operations. The U.S. Revenue Marine, which later became known as the U.S. Revenue Cutter Service, was tasked with overseeing these stations under the Treasury Department. The Great Carolina Hurricane struck the East Coast in 1854 as a category 4, resulting in numerous sailor fatalities due to a lack of lifesaving stations and poorly maintained equipment, which was sometimes used inappropriately, such as using a lifeboat for mixing mortar or scalding hogs. In response, Congress allocated funds for additional stations, and this time, part of the budget was dedicated to hiring full-time keepers for each facility.

Here is a clipping found in The Charleston Mercury, Charleston, South Carolina describing the storm • Sat, Sep 9, 1854, Page 2 https://www.newspapers.com/article/the-charleston-mercury-great-carolina-hu/103886025

The American Civil War led to the neglect of the government’s lifesaving network along the coast, a situation that persisted until 1870 when another devastating storm caused significant loss of life. In 1871, Mr. Sumner Kimball successfully secured a $200,000 appropriation from Congress, which authorized the Secretary of the Treasury to employ crews of surfmen as needed. Kimball established six-man crews at all stations, constructed new facilities, developed regulations with performance standards for crew members, established station routines and physical requirements, thereby laying the foundation for a more professional organization.

By 1874, the lifesaving stations expanded to cover the Maine coast and ten sites south of Cape Henry, Virginia, including the Outer Banks of North Carolina. The following year saw further expansion to the Delaware-Maryland-Virginia Peninsula, the Great Lakes, and the Florida coast. Eventually, the Gulf and West Coasts were incorporated, along with a station in Nome, Alaska. Four years later, the lifesaving stations were formalized as a distinct agency within the Treasury Department, named the U.S. Life-Saving Service, with Sumner I. Kimball appointed as General Superintendent. The stations were categorized into three main types: lifesaving stations, lifeboat stations, and houses of refuge. Lifesaving stations employed full-time crews during periods with a high likelihood of shipwrecks, typically from November to April, known as the “active season.”

On March 26, 1887, John T. Wescott, my 2nd great-grandfather, was appointed Keeper of Poyners Hill Station, built in 1878. Poyners Hill was 6 miles south of Currituck Beach Lighthouse on the northern Outer Banks.

By the early 1900s, these operations expanded to year-round activity. Many stations were situated in remote areas, requiring crew members to proficiently launch boats from the beach into the surf. The third category, houses of refuge, were located along the coasts of South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida, housing a paid keeper and a small boat, though they did not maintain active rescue operations. Life-Saving District Superintendents reported directly to Kimball, while an Inspector of Life Saving Stations, a Captain in the U.S. Revenue Marine Service, also reported to him. This structure created a system of checks and balances.

The Superintendents were accountable for selecting keepers, who in turn chose their crews. Both keepers and crews underwent evaluations by an inspection board comprised of a Revenue Marine officer, a surgeon from the Marine Hospital Service (later known as the U.S. Public Health Service), and a skilled surfman to assess their health, character, and abilities. Keepers were expected to be physically fit, of good moral standing, literate, under forty-five years of age, and adept at boat handling, particularly in challenging weather. Many keepers had extensive backgrounds in fishing or maritime professions, or they advanced through the ranks of the U.S. Life-Saving Service. While some keepers moved from station to station, many remained at a single station or within close proximity throughout their careers.

The daring rescues undertaken by the U.S. Life-Saving Service captivated the imagination of 19th-century America. The image of a keeper standing tall at the stern of a small boat, gripping his sweep oar and motivating his crew through the towering surf, inspired reporters to craft thrilling stories. Phrases like “soldiers of the surf” and “storm warriors” became popular descriptors for these brave lifesavers. While their rescues were indeed remarkable, the majority of the crews’ efforts focused on rigorous training with rescue equipment, conducting patrols, maintaining lookout duties, and ensuring the general upkeep of their stations. 

The men worked from Monday through Saturday, honing their skills with beach apparatus. When district inspectors arrived, the entire drill had to be completed in five minutes; any delays could lead to dismissal. Crews practiced launching and landing their boats through the surf, and to prepare for emergencies, they would intentionally capsize their boats and practice righting them. Training also included signaling, first aid, and maintaining the cleanliness of the station. Although the drills were simple in nature, they were continuously reinforced, ensuring that the crew could respond swiftly and instinctively in critical situations. Additionally, they had another crucial responsibility that occupied a significant part of the surfmen’s daily routine: lookout and patrol duties. During daylight hours, a surfman was designated to monitor the surrounding waters from the lookout tower. To ensure vigilance, no seating was provided in the tower.

The beaches were often “cloaked in ice,” and at their best, resembled “pathless deserts in the night.” The treacherous combination of “soft sand, disorienting snowfalls, fierce winds, and biting cold” frequently threatened to halt the men. Surfmen dressed in oilskins and carried a patrol clock to avoid overlapping with other patrols, along with a pouch of coston signals (the pouch was created by my 2nd great-grandfather Captain John Thomas Wescott, Jr.) These signals functioned like flares, alerting ships that were coming too close to the shore or informing grounded vessels that they had been spotted and assistance was on the way. Mariners were fortunate that beach patrols operated in all kinds of weather. In 1899, for instance, surfmen using coston signals successfully warned off 143 ships at risk of running aground. Notably, in October of that same year, Surfman Rasmus Midgett (my 1st cousin 4x removed) of the Gull Shoals, North Carolina Station, achieved the remarkable feat of rescuing ten individuals from the wreck of the Priscilla while on patrol—all by himself.1

The Life-Saving Service saw its most significant expansion between 1871 and 1881, during which it executed some of its most notable rescues. However, as the nineteenth century approached its end, the Service faced two critical challenges. Firstly, the rise of steam-powered vessels reduced the reliance on sailing ships, making them less susceptible to the whims of the wind and decreasing the likelihood of shipwrecks. Secondly, the Service struggled to adapt to the growing number of gasoline-powered small boats, particularly those used for leisure activities.

Additional issues emerged, including the absence of a retirement system and a lack of compensation for injured crew members. Low salaries made it difficult to recruit new personnel, and without retirement benefits, promotions proved challenging. By 1914, some keepers were in their seventies, manning the traditional sweep oar, while the stroke positions were filled by men in their sixties. Kimball had long sought a retirement system for his staff. In 1914, he concluded that merging the U.S. Revenue Cutter Service with the U.S. Life-Saving Service would benefit both organizations and the nation. Consequently, the legislation establishing the U.S. Coast Guard was enacted on January 28, 1915, which included provisions for retirement for Kimball and many of the senior keepers and surfmen.

My 2nd great-grandfather’s retirement letter.

The U.S. Life-Saving Service exhibited remarkable dedication throughout its forty-four years of operation. During this time, “28,121 vessels and 178,741 individuals benefited from its services.” Remarkably, only “1,455 people lost their lives while under the protection of the Life-Saving Service.” Even as late as 1959, U.S. Coast Guard Lifeboat Stations on the Great Lakes were utilizing a revised version of the Life-Saving Service’s drill schedule. Weekly beach apparatus drills continued to be conducted for first aid and signaling practice. Additionally, lookout tower watches were still operational. The ongoing emphasis on practicing with rescue equipment and conducting inspections persists to this day.

The wooden Monomoy pulling surfboat Salisbury Beach LSS, Cape Cod, MA-
Photo By: U.S. Coast Guard Historian’s Office

The United States Coast Guard has built upon the solid foundation laid by the U.S. Life-Saving Service and has incorporated its own initiatives, evolving into the recognized authority in maritime search and rescue operations. The introduction of the 36 and 44-foot motor lifeboats, the creation of a dedicated search and rescue school, and the utilization of helicopters have all enhanced the Coast Guard’s stature as the premier agency for those “in peril upon the seas.” Today, the men and women of the U.S. Coast Guard uphold the service legacy established by the U.S. Life-Saving Service crews, and with their advanced equipment, they have surpassed the achievements of their esteemed predecessors.

Massachusetts – Salisbury Beach USLSS Crew, surfboat & cart, no date.
Photo By: U.S. Coast Guard Historian’s Office

As we reflect on the legacy of the U.S. Life-Saving Service, we honor the brave men, known as the ‘soldiers of the surf,’ whose dedication and sacrifice laid the groundwork for today’s U.S. Coast Guard. Their timeless commitment to rescuing those ‘in peril upon the seas’ continues to inspire the men and women of the modern Coast Guard, who uphold this noble tradition. As we commemorate 150 years, let us remember their courage, their innovation, and the lives they saved along the treacherous coasts of America.

Noble, D. L. (1 Jan 1976). A Legacy: The United States Life-Saving Service. U.S. Coast Guard. https://uslife-savingservice.org/about-us/history-of-the-uslss/

  1. https://www.mycg.uscg.mil/News/Article/3370103/the-long-blue-line-evidence-suggests-the-midgetts-actually-were-mighty/ ↩︎

From Names to Narratives: How Blogging Brought My Ancestors to Life

When I began my family history research in the 90s, it primarily revolved around names and facts. That was my approach to building my family tree. However, everything changed when I started blogging about my ancestors; they truly came to life for me. It wasn’t just that their stories were fascinating, but I began to draw parallels between their experiences and my own daily life.

This curiosity drove me to explore the historical context surrounding each ancestor. I found myself questioning why so many lived such short lives and what epidemics plagued their era. I wondered why they chose to leave their homeland and what factors led to their frequent migrations. Sometimes, it takes me quite a while to compose a single blog post because I keep unearthing more information about that individual.

Blogging also helps me identify gaps in my ancestors’ narratives, allowing me to hone in on one ancestor, surname, or event at a time. Alternatively, I may choose to focus on a specific genealogical resource or technique. The key is to center my discussions on manageable topics—bite-sized pieces of my family history. This ongoing process has compelled me to revisit and rewrite some of my earlier posts, as I’ve realized that many are overly lengthy or mention too many ancestors.

Another significant advantage of genealogy blogging is that it serves as excellent “cousin bait.” Over the years, I’ve been contacted by people who share my lineage or are simply intrigued by the stories I tell. These connections enrich my research and provide a gratifying sense that my efforts are worthwhile. Moreover, blogging has become a valuable record of my journey as a family history researcher.

It’s a curious aspect of human nature that, as we learn, we often become so engrossed in our current endeavors that we lose sight of the progress we’ve made over time. Blogging allows me to share snippets of my family history without getting too caught up in structure or formatting—I simply relish the act of writing.

Blogging about my ancestors has transformed my genealogical journey in ways I never expected. What started as a hobby to trace names and dates has evolved into a deeper exploration of my family’s past, a means of connecting with distant relatives, and a way to bring forgotten lives back into the spotlight. Each blog post not only uncovers new discoveries but also reflects my growth as a researcher and storyteller. As I continue to write, I’m reminded that genealogy is not just about building a family tree—it’s about understanding the branches, roots, and the stories in between.

Image via ChatGPT 2024.

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From Krefeld to Nicetown: The Legacy of Hans de Neus and Philadelphia’s Early Settlers

Some sources show that Hans de Neus was born in France in about 1670 and was a French Huguenot fleeing prosecution.   However, the more research I do, the more I see that he seems to have been born in Germany.   

His parents were Olletgen te Neuss and Nelis Wienands, both from Germany.

Hans founded the Nice family in Philadelphia, specifically in Nicetown, consisting of 725 acres. He is believed to have gone to Holland to seek refuge from religious (Mennonite) persecution. In Holland, he met and married his wife, Janneke Bloemen. It is said that they celebrated the construction of their house by breaking a bottle of schnapps over it, christening both the house and their plantation as Nicetown.

Wikipedia states “This original early 18th century structure burned in 1800. Hans and his brother Jan had emigrated from Amsterdam in 1698; Jan settled in Germantown. Both were Mennonite ministers and could read and write. Hans and his descendants were well known as zimmermen (builders of houses). One descendant was a member of the Carpenter’s Society of Philadelphia in the early 1800s. Another was Captain John Nice of Germantown, who led the charge at the Battle of Germantown during the Revolutionary War. Other authors provide varied suggestions for the origin of Nicetown. Finkel says that it was “[n]amed for de Neus, Dutch Huguenots who settled there about 1700”.[3] Other spellings seen for the same surname are Neiss, Neisse, and, of course, the Nice seen in the placename Nicetown. There are 19th-century headstones in nearby Germantown marked with the surname Nice.”

The “te Neues” family had lived near Krefeld, Germany, at Lürrip since at least 1296.1

In his 1911 book Colonial Families of Philadelphia, John W. Jordan stated that Hans was born in Crefeld, but he did not provide the source for this information. (Krefeld, also known as Crefeld until 1929, is a city in North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany). According to Mt. Airy scholar J.M. Duffin, the Krefelders were German-speaking and originally Dutch-speaking Germans who were Quakers. Krefeld is located on the border of the Netherlands and Germany, so it is understandable that they would be fluent in both languages.

Krefeld

Chronicle – the emigration

Krefeld · The Mennonites have their origins in the Anabaptist movement, which arose in Zurich around 1525. The movement spread to the Netherlands, where in 1536 Menno Simons took up the ideas of the Anabaptist movement and formed a consciously pacifist community with the moderate part, called “Mennonites”.

  • 2Krefeld became a place of refuge for Mennonites who were persecuted in many places and for the religious community of Quakers who later joined them. But here too there were tensions with the long-established population. It just so happened that at that time the governor of Pennsylvania, William Penn, wanted to recruit settlers for his country. They should be God-fearing people who, like Penn, should also be Quakers. The German lawyer Franz Daniel Pastorius arrived, founded “Germantown” and acquired the 13 families. 328 years ago the Krefeld residents, Mennonites and Quakers, sailed from Holland to America . On July 24, 1683 the English sailing ship “Concord” set sail from the Dutch port of Gavesend. On October 6, 1683 they reached Philadelphia

Mennonites are a branch of the Christian church, with roots in the radical wing of the 16th century Protestant Reformation. Part of the group known as Anabaptists (because they rebaptized adult believers), the Mennonites took their name from Menno Simons, a Dutch Catholic priest who converted to the Anabaptist faith and helped lead it to prominence in Holland by the mid-16th century. 3

It is now known that the Nice family is one of the families in The Ancestry of the Thirteen Krefeld Emigrants of 1683, as mentioned in the 1956 article of the Franconia Mennonite Conference. The origins of the Franconia Conference are connected with the settlement of the Mennonites at Germantown near Philadelphia in 1683. The early Mennonite settlers of Germantown represented four distinct groups: (1) those from Krefeld who arrived in 1683 ff. and bore such names as Lensen, Op den Graeff, van Bebber, Telner, Umstat, Jansen, Neuss, Tyson, Sellen, and Hosters, William Rittenhouse, first Mennonite minister in America, H. Kasselberg, and Jacob Godshalk, the first American Mennonite bishop.

William Rittenhouse in the above article is my 8th great-grandfather.

In other sources I’ve read, Jacob Godshalk’s father served the Neuss family.

From the book Pennsylvania German Roots Across the Ocean,

Neuss_Pennsylvania German Roots Across the Ocean

His wife, Jenneken “Jane” Blomen, was born in Holland around 1670. Further research is needed on her family.

Hans’ brother, Jan, married Elisabeth Lucken, who was the sister of one of the 13 founders of Germantown in Philadelphia. Both brothers and their wives traveled to Philadelphia to seek religious freedom in William Penn’s colony, which was specifically established for that purpose.  Below is written in Appendix C of William Penn and the Dutch Quaker Migration to Pennsylvania:

Neuss Wm Penn and the Quaker Migration

Evidently, Hans was naturalized as “Nous” in 1709, but the name did not stick.

In the following PDF link is accounts information and a black and white photo of a Silver Porringer made by Jan de Neuss.  A Philadelphia Silver Porringer4

It is interesting to note the relationship of this family long ago with William Penn’s secretary, James Logan, especially considering that my grandmother Kunkle, whose family is the Neuss’, married a Logan.

Here is an excerpt from the diary of one of our Revolutionary War cousins, which is housed at the Historical Society of Pennsylvania. It even includes his resignation letter to General George Washington!   The Diary of Captain John Nice, of the Pennsylvania Line5

“The Early History of the Germantown Congregation,” Germantown Meeting House History states, “…in 1690, the Germantown Mennonites chose William Rittenhouse as their minister, and Jan Neuss their deacon. For unknown reasons, Rittenhouse felt unable to supervise communication, so in 1702, Jacob Gottschalk and Hans Neuss were ordained ministers to assist him.”6

The last name is now spelled Neis in my branch.  Bertolet’s Mennonite Church Cemetery was once Zachariah Neis’ farm.  His daughter, Susanna Neis, married Michael Schlonecker, Jr., whose family came from Germany.  They had Esther Slonaker, who married Conrad Hawk,  who had Esther “Hettie” Hawk, who married Michael Kunkle, who had Charles, who had Hilda, my grandmother!

The story of Hans de Neus is a testament to the resilience and determination of those who sought a new life in America. From the bustling town of Krefeld to the quiet fields of Nicetown, Hans and his descendants played a significant role in shaping the early history of Philadelphia. Their journey is more than a tale of migration; it’s a narrative of faith, perseverance, and community-building. As we reflect on their legacy, we are reminded of the rich tapestry of cultures and histories that form the foundation of our nation, with the Neis family standing as a proud thread woven into that fabric.

Image created by OpenAI’s DALL-E, August 2024.

  1. Hassan, Hazel Deter. The Nice Family History: Descendants of Henry Clemmer Nice, 1822-1892. 1965. ↩︎
  2. “Krefeld: Chronicle: the Emigration.” Rheinische Post, 23 Mar. 2011, rp-online.de/nrw/staedte/krefeld/chronik-die-auswanderung_aid-13560923. Accessed 18 Aug. 2024. ↩︎
  3. “Who Are The Mennonites.” Mennonite Church USA, 2020, http://www.mennoniteusa.org/who-are-mennonites/history/. Accessed 18 Aug. 2024. ↩︎
  4. “170 A Philadelphia Silver Porringer The Historical Society of Pennsylvania.” The Pennsylvania State University, 1931, journals.psu.edu/pmhb/article/download/28223/27979. Accessed 18 Aug. 2024. ↩︎
  5. Nice, J., & Burd, E. (1893). Extracts from the Diary of Captain John Nice, of the Pennsylvania Line. The Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography, 16(4), 399-411. https://www.jstor.org/stable/20083504 ↩︎
  6. “The Historic 1770 Germantown Mennonite Meetinghouse.” Germantown Mennonite Historic Trust, http://www.meetinghouse.info/early-history-of-the-germantown-congregation.html. Accessed 18 Aug. 2024. ↩︎

Logan of Restalrig: Theories on Our Scotch-Irish Heritage

Featured Image above created by ChatGPT- Not actual Logan shield or colors.

Below are the actual Clan Logan crest and tartan.

https://www.clanlogansociety.org/
https://www.clanlogansociety.org/
https://www.clanlogansociety.org/
Marker stone for the burial place of Robert the Bruce’s heart, Melrose Abbey

At my sister’s request, I am writing about some theories on where John Loggan, our American immigrant, might have come from.  We know from records that he “was descended from a long line of Scotch barons deriving their name, Celtic in origin, from the ancestral home, Logan, in Ayrshire.1”  We also know from these same records that he was Scotch Presbyterian.

In January 2013, a gentleman emailed me and told me of a website called “clanlogansociety.com” now Clan Logan Society International, and “electricscotland.com,” of which he was Vice President.  His name is James C. Logan.  At the time, we had no idea if we were related, but he gave me some information on some interesting Logans.  Since then, we have found that we share the same 3rd great-grandfather, Lemuel H. Logan.  James has done an extensive search on this line using records as well as DNA.  There is a DNA Pre-1900Logans Project that uses numbers to distinguish families.  Ours is Limb 1, #1034.

DNA links John Logan #1034 directly to the Gawn Logan family #1032, which suggests our Logan line immigrated from Scotland to Ireland where they lived perhaps several generations before moving on to Connecticut.

They are no doubt closely related. With the differences in age, it could well be that Gawn is actually descended from John, and the connection has not yet been identified. Alternatively, Gawn may descend from a brother or some other near relative of John.

John arrived in the Colony of Connecticut in about 1729 or so with enough wealth to purchase a farm. James thinks the funds came from his inheritance or possibly a sale of a land grant in the Ulster Plantation. DNA indicates that we are related to some Logans from Ayrshire, Scotland. He found a Walter Logane who left Ayrshire about 1610 for the Ulster Plantation and obtained a land grant in 1617. He thinks Walter may be John’s great-grandfather.

“Sir Hugh Montgomery, 2nd Viscount Ards, received his land grant from King James I of England (James IV of Scotland) on the condition that he settle English and Scottish Protestants on their estates. Sir Hugh returned to Braidstane [in Ayrshire] during the winter of 1605/06 with the purpose of inducing his neighbors to join him. The surnames of the Scots who took letters of denization in 1617 include Catherwood, Boyle, Harper, Barkley, Moore, Hunter, Thompson, Logan, Crawford, Agnew, Adair, Wilson, Williamson, Cunningham, Cathart, Maxwell, Allen, Fraser, Aiken, McDowell, Harvy, Semple, Anderson, Kennedy, Martin, Speir and Montgomery.2“

“All the substantial persons – Persons of this class generally took out letters of denization soon after they came to Ireland. The following received such letters of denization in 1617, the majority of them having settled on Sir Hugh Montgomery’s estates, probably ten years prior to that date. Viz.” John Wyly of Ballyhay………………… Walter Logane of Proveston……………..Alexander Speire of Gray Abbey. – fm. Calendar of Pat. Rolls, James I, pp. 3263393. ” (Interesting to note is that the name Wyly is one of the families with whom John came to Connecticut with.)

So, yes, indeed, we are related to the Scottish Logans — and most probably to the Logan of Restalrig, as some of this family moved to Ayrshire after the last Baron of Restalrig (the 7th Baron) was deprived of his title and land holdings by a huge miscarriage of justice which can be read about here.

Click the book above to read more about the Logans of Restalrig.

“During the reign of Robert the Bruce, the barony of Restalrig, on which the town of Leith is built, passed by marriage into possession of the Logans, and soon afterwards occurred the most heroic episode which stands to their name. Sir Robert and Sir Walter Logan were two of the knights who accompanied the Good Sir James of Douglas in his expedition to bury the heart of King Robert the Bruce in the Holy Sepulcher. On the plain of Granada, when the little body of Scottish knights found itself hemmed round by Moorish spears, and Douglas, throwing his master’s heart far into the press, rode after it and fell, Sir Walter and Sir Robert fell with him.4“

You can read all of their researched articles on Restalrig or the  History of the Logans

Another interesting read is The Logans of Restalrig-Scot Clans

Logan_by_R_R_McIan
“Logan”. A Victorian-era, romanticized depiction of a member of the clan by R. R. McIan, from The Clans of the Scottish Highlands, published in 1845.

Again, genealogy is documenting records from person to person.  There is a huge gap of missing sources from our John Loggan b. 1699 to the 7th Baron of Restalrig, Sir Robert Logan b. 1555, but there are a lot of remarkable concurrences of events happening here to suggest we are on the right track.

  1. A National Register of the Society, Sons of the American Revolution, Volume 1 By Sons of the American Revolution, Louis Henry Cornish, Alonzo Howard Clark ↩︎
  2. Jonathan Bardon, The Plantation of Ulster, Gill Books, Dublin, 2012, ISBN 978 07171 5447 0, pp. 77. Perceval-Maxwell, M., The Scottish Migration to Ulster in the Reign of James I., Belfast, 1973, pp. 57. ↩︎
  3. Sir Hugh Montgomery, The Montgomery Manuscripts, (1603-1706), Archer & Sons, Belfast, 1869 (from the library of the University of Toronto), pp 5, 94, 117, 322. ↩︎
  4. https://electricscotland.com/webclans/htol/logan2.html ↩︎

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Whispers Beneath the Hedgerows: The Secret Legacy of Irish Hedge Schools

Have you ever wondered where your Irish ancestors might have received their education? In a time when formal schooling was forbidden for many, a unique and resilient form of education emerged—one that defied the harsh penal laws of the British Crown. Welcome to the world of Irish Hedge Schools, where knowledge was passed down in secret, hidden away in the countryside, beneath the very hedgerows that gave these schools their name. Join me as we uncover the history of these remarkable institutions and the brave souls who kept the flame of learning alive in the face of adversity.

For about two hundred years, this was an illegal, informal, and unofficial local education system.

In the mid-1600s, Oliver Cromwell’s arrival in Ireland led to the outlawing of bardic schools (secular institutions.) Cromwell’s notorious reputation for the massacre of Irish people and the confiscation of their lands has made him an unpopular figure in Irish and English history. Cromwell referred to the bardic schools as popish schools due to his belief that they taught superstition, idolatry, and evil Celtic customs.

A few decades later, when William of Orange was the British king, the British enacted the penal laws. These banned Catholicism and banned priests, which, of course, prohibited the teaching of Catholicism, whether in church or school or anywhere else, for that matter.

In response to discrimination, communities began taking control of their education. This led to the developing of a network of informal schools, referred to as hedge schools, throughout the country. These schools were strategically located to avoid detection by local authorities ‘beneath the sunny side of a hedge’ and were run by schoolmasters who charged a fee for their services. Hedge schools provided instruction in various subjects, including Latin and Greek.

It’s believed that by the 1820s, Hedge Schools educated up to 400,000 students in 9000 schools. This remained in force until it was repealed in 1782. It wasn’t until 1967, with the Free Secondary Education Act in the Republic of Ireland, that secondary school education became open for all.

Because of the secrecy and illegalities, there are few records concerning these schools. Although you can scour the internet and find some teacher’s names in some places.

The story of the Irish Hedge Schools is a testament to the indomitable spirit of a people determined to preserve their heritage and educate their children, no matter the obstacles. While the records of these schools are scarce, their legacy lives on in the countless descendants who carry the torch of knowledge passed down through generations. As we reflect on this hidden chapter of Irish history, let us remember the resilience and ingenuity of our ancestors, who found a way to nurture minds even in the darkest of times.

19.2.20 hedge schools. 19.2.20 Hedge Schools – Department of Classics – Trinity College Dublin. (n.d.). https://www.tcd.ie/classics/livinglatin/hedge-school.php

McDonnell, D. (2021, February 24). The Irish Hedge School. ClanDonnell. https://clandonnell.net/the-irish-hedge-school/

Costello, G., & Name. (2023, July 17). Hedge schools. Skehana & District Heritage. https://skehana.galwaycommunityheritage.org/content/topics/education/hedge-schools

Category: Sheephaven history. The Workhouse. (2023, September 4). https://dunfanaghyworkhouse.com/category/sheephaven-history/

Photo Credit

Kenneth Allen / The Hedge School, Doagh / 

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Why Downloading Ancestors’ Records is Better Than Linking: How to Properly Save Ancestors’ Records for Future Access

It’s tempting to link ancestors’ records from genealogical websites like Ancestry®, My Heritage©, or FindMypast©, but it’s better to download those records instead. However, when you ‘save’ a record this way, you are not really saving it at all. Instead, it’s simply linking that record to the correct fact. When you attach a record to your ancestor on these sites, it’s only accessible provided you have a paid subscription. Even if it syncs to your database programs like Family Tree Maker, Legacy 9, and Roots Magic, you won’t have access to the record once your subscription ends.

Transferring genealogical data through a GEDCOM file doesn’t transfer images, text files, or documents, only the data. It’s crucial to download the documents to your hard drive or flash drive and keep backups on cloud storage services like Google Drive. Although it’s convenient to attach the record as usual and let the programs create citations for you, downloading the records directly preserves them for future use.

I organize my records by creating a folder for each ancestor and saving the records I want in those respective folders. Additionally, I make sure to back up these records using Google Drive or any other cloud storage service. When attaching a record, use the program’s feature to create the citation for you.

You can also link them. Here’s how.

Follow these steps:

  1. Download the genealogy record you need.
  2. Upload the record to your chosen cloud location.
  3. Create and obtain the link for that record (right-click and select “get a shareable link”).
  4. Add the link to your source citation. To do this, find the source citation, click on “edit citation,” and type something like, “This record can be accessed at http://drive.google…..”
  5. Now, whenever you transfer your tree, you and anyone you choose to share it with will have access to your records.

It is not advisable to input this information into the website field, as this field is intended for the original storage location, such as an archive.

My point is, you shouldn’t depend only on your online program. It’s important to save important information to your computer and/or (I suggest) to your cloud storage.

And while we’re talking about backing up, you should download your Ancestry tree GEDCOM regularly as well, even though you will still have access to your tree data if you end a subscription. The GEDCOM does not contain actual images of records you have attached, so it can’t be used to save those, but it is always good to have a backup of your other data. To download this, go to your tree, click the ‘tree pages’ dropdown, select ‘tree settings’ and the look for the green ‘export’ button on the right sidebar of the setting page.

Taking these precautions will ensure that your genealogical research and records are safely stored and accessible for the long term. By downloading and backing up your records to your computer and cloud storage, you can preserve the valuable information for future generations and ensure that it remains available to you, even if your subscription to online services ends. Remember, maintaining these backups and taking control of your data is an essential part of safeguarding your genealogical research efforts.

Pennsylvania: A Gateway to America’s Heritage and Industry

For most of us, Pennsylvania played an important role in our ancestors’ history. Pennsylvania has been a destination for a wide range of immigrants, including Europeans, African Americans, and others. These individuals were drawn to the state because of its significant role in the nation’s development and its diverse industries. During the colonial period, Pennsylvania’s religious freedom attracted various ethnic and religious groups, such as Quakers, Mennonites, and Amish. Welsh Quakers settled in what are now Montgomery, Chester, and Delaware counties, while German immigrants developed their own dialect and eventually became known as the Pennsylvania Dutch.

Pennsylvania experienced substantial industrial growth, particularly in steel production, coal mining, and oil fields. This led to a large influx of European immigrants seeking employment, including individuals from Ireland, Germany, Italy, Poland, Scandinavia, Russia, and Slovakia. Moreover, the state played a pivotal role in the Civil War and served as a primary entry point for many immigrants.

The Pennsylvania Historical & Museum Commission was created in 1945 and is responsible for the collection, conservation, and interpretation of Pennsylvania’s historic heritage. Not only do they oversee the state archives, which you can visit in person or online, but they also have a wonderful museum section. These museums encompass Daniel Boone (he was born in Pennsylvania), the lumber industry, the mining industry, the railroads, and many others. They even have a “village & farming” museum. You can visit these in person or online as well.

In addition, check out PA History 2 G0, a series of videos produced by the PHMC, with funding from the Institute of Museum and Library Services. These short videos introduce you to Pennsylvania’s state-owned historic sites and museums as they explore the varied stories that make up the commonwealth’s rich history. Still, they have an online collection of historical objects, archaeological artifacts, and natural history specimens.

Pennsylvania’s rich history is deeply intertwined with the stories of our ancestors, who found in this state a place of opportunity, freedom, and growth. From the religious sanctuaries of the colonial era to the booming industries that shaped the nation, Pennsylvania has been a beacon for diverse communities and a witness to pivotal moments in American history. As we explore the state’s historic sites, museums, and archives, whether in person or online, we not only honor our heritage but also gain a deeper understanding of the challenges and triumphs that have shaped the lives of those who came before us. The Pennsylvania Historical & Museum Commission continues to preserve and share these stories, ensuring that the legacy of our ancestors remains alive for generations to come.

Image Depicting Pennsylvania’s Rich History and Industrial Heritage. OpenAI, 2024.

Uncovering Family History: A Journey of Resilience and Connection

Here’s a remarkable story about how the past is linked to the present.

A couple of years ago, my cousin’s wife reached out to me for assistance. Her mother and aunt were facing difficulties in obtaining their naturalization papers, renewing their driver’s licenses, and getting passports due to the lack of documentation of their immigration from Latvia to the USA in 1949. Despite their efforts, they were unable to find their names on the ship’s manifest or in courthouse records and were told they were not listed at Ellis Island. It was as if they didn’t exist.

Their journey began in 1940 when the first Soviet occupation began after the immigrant’s marriage, and she was only 19 years old. The occupation ended a month after the birth of her first child. Along with her mother-in-law and young family, they were forced from Jelvaga, Latvia to Schneidemühl, Germany in 1944. From there, the Schneidemühl Labour Office sent them to Landsberg, Germany. In December of 1944, they had their second daughter. The harsh living conditions caused the 6-week-old baby to lose all her fingernails and toenails due to the extreme cold.

In January of 1945, they fled Landsberg, heading towards Bamberg, Germany, and were sent by the labor office to work on a farm in Stucht, Germany, where they received food and an apartment. She and her husband worked there until June 18, 1945. During the same month, they went to Erlangen, Germany, where she began working for an American family. Their fortunes changed in 1946 when she started working in a US Army Officer’s Mess as a waitress. Through the sponsorship of a Lutheran Church Council, they were able to make the journey to America, where the Lutheran minister arranged for the grandfather’s employment in Illinois. In total, they moved 27 times before reaching the United States and finally arrived in New York in 1949.

My cousin contacted me for help, initially asking me to verify the ship the family was on and the port they arrived in. However, I was able to do much more than that. I located 25 clear documents, including scanned copies of the original immigration cards for her entire family, the amended ship manifest with their names on it, her grandparent’s work application, written notes about the camp in Germany they were in, and details about their escape from Latvia, even the list of items in their suitcases when they arrived. One such picture is

My cousin-in-law’s mother has now obtained her naturalization record, and we now have the necessary information to assist her aunt in obtaining a passport. For more information on how I can help you connect your present to the past, please see my bio, profile, or website.

The story of this family’s journey serves as a powerful reminder of the resilience and determination of individuals in the face of adversity. By uncovering and documenting their history, we can help them navigate the present and future with confidence. I hope this story inspires others to seek out their family histories, and I am committed to assisting anyone looking to make similar connections.

Image generated by DALL-E, depicting a young couple with two daughters and the father’s mother fleeing Soviet occupation in 1944, part of their journey from Jelvaga, Latvia to Schneidemühl and Landsberg, Germany, and eventually to New York in 1949.

Hampton’s Historical Intrigue: The Story of Nathaniel Weare, Sr. and Edward Gove’s Family Connection & Stolen Turnips

Nathaniel Weare, Sr (Abt. 1625-1681)- My 11th Great Uncle through the Logan-Bean side

Edward Gove– (1630-1691)- My 9th Great Grandfather through the Logan-Bean side

Their relation to each other?  Nathaniel is the 2nd great grandfather of Edward’s granddaughter’s husband.

The following article is courtesy of the Hampton Union, April 28, 2015, and Seacoast Online.

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In the late fall of 1670, Hampton planter John Fuller discovered that someone had pilfered about 20 bushels of his unharvested turnip crop. John Hancock, Fuller’s partner in the patch, swore that if he could prove who did it, the “taker of them” would be prosecuted.

The taker, as it turned out, was a prominent citizen named Nathaniel Weare. To his friends John and Martha Cass he had admitted that he “did take about a bushel and a half” after “accidentally” stumbling upon Fuller’s turnip patch. And if the ground hadn’t been so darned hard, he “might have took a few more.” As he said, he took them because they were so “remote in the woods,” and with the frost and all, he thought they would be “lost.”

John Cass asked if he had been given permission to take the turnips, to which Nathaniel replied “No.” But, he said, he had talked to John Fuller and had paid for the turnips with some pork.

The turnip thief is accused.

Given Weare’s status in the community and his payment of pork, the rather minor matter of the stolen turnips should never have seen the inside of a courtroom. But it did because a man named Edward Gove had publicly accused him of being a thief.

“You fool, you loggerheadedly, boby-headed ass. Get you about your business,” Weare said when Gove confronted him.

“How came I to be your tomfool loggerhead?” Gove wondered.

His response did not sit well with Weare, who then did what any adult male Puritan in his position would do: he hit Gove with a stick. Aghast at his own act of violence, he reportedly fell upon his knees before Gove, not once, but twice, which, Gove claimed, “hath been Weare’s custom so to act to others” besides himself. Apparently Gove knew Weare as a man who had a lot to apologize for.

“Get up again like a lubber,” Gove said as he helped Weare to his feet.

The accuser becomes the accused.

Weare wished that Gove, who was known to suffer now and again from an “unsound mind,” would withdraw his accusation and leave him alone. But he did not, perhaps in part because of a grudge Gove may have been harboring, from a time when Weare had driven his hogs onto Gove’s land without permission. Whatever the reason, their present feud had caused enough of a stir that Weare had sent his friend, Nathaniel Clark of Newbury, and Henry Palmer of Hampton to talk some sense into Gove. When they met at Henry Roby’s tavern, located near the present-day Baptist Church on Winnacunnet Road, Gove agreed that Weare had not intentionally taken the turnips. Still, he had broken the 8th commandment (thou shalt not steal), which was contrary to Law.

“It will be an encouragement to others to go on in such wicked courses, contrary to Christianity and civility,” he said to explain why he could not let the matter go.

He added, “It is easy making an excuse for the theft if after the thing be like to be proved against the person.” Translation: Weare confessed only because his misdeed had been found out.

It seems that the only way to make Gove shut up was to sue him. In Norfolk County court, then, Weare brought charges of his “reproachful speeches and assaulting carriage,” and of his killing a hawk on the Lord ’s Day. The jury deliberated the evidence and brought in a verdict of guilty.

The accused appeals the verdict.

Gove appealed the verdict to the Court of Assistants in Boston, saying that “Your appellant apprehends himself much disadvantaged” because the trial jury foreman, who had also been the grand jury foreman, had vowed that if Gove came to trial he “would warrant [Gove] should suffer.” It was Gove’s contention that he would have been acquitted had this biased man not sat on the jury. The record, however, does not agree with his “facts”; it shows that two different men, Lt. Benjamin Swett and Henry Palmer, had served as jury foremen.

Rather than rest on a claim of an unfair trial, he further asserted that he was only defending himself when Weare hit him with the stick, and that he helped Weare to his feet, not pushed him down, as he had been accused of doing. And he had broken no law in calling Nathaniel Weare a thief. It had been John Fuller’s kinsman, William Fuller, who said that Weare had taken the turnips from the field. Why, then, was it Gove and not Fuller who was charged? In answering his own question he said, “Indeed [it was] better for Fuller to lose his turnips than for he that took them disorderly to lose his friend.”

Gove rather unwisely condemned the entire Massachusetts judicial system, saying that if Weare were to be tried in England, with the weight of Gove’s evidence against him, “he would appear in all his colors as he is to all the beholders.” Weare was to Gove like Haman the Evil, an Old Testament figure who had tried to destroy the Jewish people but had had the tables turned horribly upon himself.

If righteous indignation counted, Gove should have won his appeal on that aspect alone. Unfortunately, we’ll never know how things turned out – the record was lost, destroyed, or, just as likely, Gove dropped his appeal after he cooled off. As for Nathaniel Weare, there is no record that he was ever brought to court for taking the turnips.

Epilogue

From the Case of the Stolen Turnips, it would hardly be possible to peg these two highly imperfect men as stalwart heroes of Hampton’s history, our early defenders of Liberty and Freedom. But both men are venerated for their fervent opposition to New Hampshire’s royal governor Edward Cranfield, a man forever despised as a tyrant.

While it’s true that Cranfield fit the stereotype of the arrogant English nobleman, let’s not blame him entirely for the failures of his regime. He had been given the impossible task of imposing Royal rule on a people who for fifty years had managed their own affairs, under Massachusetts and English law, and had no intention of parting with the privilege.

In 1683, while under the influence of “ardent spirits,” an inherited predisposition to “lunacy,” and a lack of sleep, Edward Gove attempted to muster a rebellion against Cranfield’s government. Doing little more than riding through the towns causing a ruckus, he was soon enough arrested by the Hampton militia – on a warrant that his old nemesis Nathaniel Weare, as Justice of the Peace, had been obliged to serve.

Not even Weare would have wanted what happened next. To all those New Hampshire men whom Cranfield loathed as “unmanageable creatures,” Gove was to be made an example, even though the Governor had been presented with depositions to show that the man was subject to fits of madness. No matter, Gove was put on trial and convicted of high treason. Weare had been among the men summoned to give testimony in the trial.

The Court sentenced Gove to the standard traitor’s punishment: to be hanged by the neck and cut down alive, his entrails taken out and burnt before his face, his head cut off, his body divided into four quarters, all to be disposed of at the King’s pleasure. He was shipped off to England and imprisoned in the Tower of London to await this gruesome fate.

But Cranfield soon realized that he had made a terrible miscalculation. Instead of bringing the rebel dogs to heel, sentencing their fellow countryman to death only stiffened their resistance against him.

In 1684 Weare undertook a mission to England, bearing a petition signed by 219 citizens of Portsmouth, Dover, Exeter, and Hampton, to lay the problem of Cranfield’s misrule at the feet of the King. The petition and Weare’s testimony helped bring about the Governor’s eventual recall.

As for Edward Gove, cooler heads prevailed in the mother country and his sentence was never carried out – in large part, it’s been said, because Nathaniel Weare had a hand in securing his pardon from the King. Both men returned home to New Hampshire.

In the end, perhaps Nathaniel Weare learned a valuable lesson: if you’re going to “borrow” a bushel of turnips from a neighbor’s patch, it’s best not to do so with a witness—and certainly not with the ground so hard you can’t make a clean getaway. As for poor Edward Gove, one can only imagine that next time, he’ll steer clear of any tavern debates involving turnips, sticks, or overly apologetic neighbors. After all, in 1670s Hampton, the only thing stickier than a turnip theft was the awkward aftermath of a public apology on bended knee!

Lassiter, Cheryl. “The Case of the Stolen Turnips.” Portsmouth Herald, 27 Apr. 2015, www.seacoastonline.com/search/?q=Stolen%2BTurnips.