Locust Grove

My great great great grandmother was a Morse. Her first cousin was Samuel Morse, the inventor of the telegraph and Morse code (dot dot dash dash). 

Family member name: Samuel Finley Breese Morse
Lifetime: 1791 - 1872
Tree branch: Pearson
Relation: My 1st cousin, 6x removed (meaning = if I was born 6 generations ago we’d be 1st cousins)

I love finding out where my ancestors lived and how they lived. My dad came to visit us one weekend and we drove up to Poughkeepsie, NY to see Samuel Morse’s summer home. 

Just a bit of background... Before Samuel Morse invented the telegraph, he was an artist. Besides a very good start, he was mostly a starving artist (though extremely talented and famous in his own right) and usually could not pay the bills. His wife and children almost never had a home of their own because they couldn’t afford the rent. They lived with different family members and borrowed money often.  


With the riches from the telegraph later on in his life, he bought and extensively renovated a large home north of Manhattan.  The name of the estate is Locust Grove.  It is now a historical landmark and makes for a lovely afternoon tour. Morse was called Finley by his family. The pictures below are of Finley’s first cousin's descendant, my dad.

PS: Locust Grove doesn’t seem to give discounts for family members. ;)

Descendant of Samuel Morse's first cousin.

Outside Locust Grove, Poughkeepsie, NY.  It was pouring.

Locust Grove entry and a carriage similar to what the Morse family would have used.

Andersonville

Ahhh, idyllic Vermont.  Clean, fresh air and green mountains.  

The Titus side of my dad's family mainly settled in Vershire, Vermont.  To get there, drive to Timbuktu and hang a left, keep going till you hit East Osh Kosh.  Vershire is just 45 minutes further down the "road."

One of the Titus boys had a brief but significant journey away from Vershire.

Family member name: Morris Park Titus 
Lifetime: 1845-1900
Tree branch: Pearson
Relation: My 3rd great-uncle (My dad's dad's mom's mom's brother)

When Morris turned 18 in 1863, the War of the Rebellion was still going strong.  So he enlisted and began his military service as a Private in the 4th Vermont Infantry.

Just six months later, he was captured during a battle in Virginia and became a P.O.W.  He had just turned 19.  First he was held in Libby Prison, an infamous converted food warehouse that was used to imprison Union soldiers.  Huge rooms were overcrowded with men who did not receive medical attention or much food.  

Then he was sent to Andersonville Prison, GA.

**Warning: the following is not for sensitive hearts**

Andersonville was not a prison.  There are many words for it, but the word prison is usually connected with a building that includes cells and bars.  What a paradise prison would have been for those men!  No, Andersonville was an extermination camp in the United States.

Andersonville had two or three rows of tall stockade fences.  And that's it.  It was a pen. 

[Pause here to think of that.]

Inside the pen was the ground and the sky.  No shelter.  No facilities.  There was a small stream running down a hill.  The men would drink water from the top of the stream, and go to the bathroom at the lower stream.  It became a swamp of diarrhea.

The soldiers were starved.  When they had food, it was corn bread and some beans with maggots in it.  They prayed for sweet potatoes in order to possibly avoid scurvy, which most men contracted anyway.  It is a horrible disease.

Morris Park Titus arrived at the absolute worst time to arrive at Andersonville, end June of 1864.  The prisoner population was 26,000 men.  Some healthy men who arrived at that time died in two weeks or less.  Here is what they saw, taken from the diary of a soldier.

As we entered the place, a spectacle met our eyes that almost froze our blood with horror, and made our hearts fail within us. Before us were forms that had once been active and erect;—stalwart men, now nothing but mere walking skeletons, covered with filth and vermin. Many of our men, in the heat and intensity of their feeling, exclaimed with earnestness. "Can this be hell?" "God protect us!" and all thought that he alone could bring them out alive from so terrible a place. In the center of the whole was a swamp, occupying about three or four acres of the narrowed limits, and a part of this marshy place had been used by the prisoners as a sink (latrine), and excrement covered the ground, the scent arising from which was suffocating. The ground allotted to our ninety was near the edge of this plague-spot, and how we were to live through the warm summer weather in the midst of such fearful surroundings, was more than we cared to think of just then

In August, the Confederates started moving soldiers to other prisons.  The criteria for being moved was that you had to be able to walk out.  Those who could not walk out were left in the pen to die.  Even though he had been there less than six weeks, Morris could not walk out.  In September and October, 1 out of 3 and then 1 out of 2 men died respectively.  

[Pause here to think of that.]

But Morris was not a casualty.  Somehow he survived.  After only four months at Andersonville, he probably spent over a year in the hospital and the rest of his life undoubtedly with PTSD and chronic health problems.

He returned to beautiful Vershire.  Here is Morris on his wedding day just two years later.

When we visited Vershire in 2011, the kind town historian showed us a family history written by a Titus family member in 1930.  Here is the excerpt about Morris.  

From a family history book in Vershire, Vermont

Andersonville did not kill him.  But sadly Morris died on a Monday afternoon at age 55 when he fell on some ice.  Sigh... Vermont.

Married 63 years

Read all about it!  This newspaper article is about my great great great grandparents.  It was torn to pieces, and there are stains from completely dissolved 100 year-old Scotch tape.  My friend is a professional archivist and she kindly restored the fragile newspaper clipping for me.  I decided to transcribe it below for posterity's sake.  It's a genealogist's dream article.  It's also any family's dream article.  Enjoy.

Family member names: Mr. and Mrs. Simeon Bacon Titus
Tree branch: Pearson
Lifetimes: 1817-1903 and 1818-1903
Relation: My 3x great grandmother and grandfather (my dad's dad's mom's mom's parents)

The Cambridge Chronicle - January 11, 1902

I also have the original photo that was used in the article.  How cute are they??

HAVE BEEN MARRIED SIXTY-THREE YEARS.

Mr. and Mrs. Simeon B. Titus Begin Their Sixty-fourth Year of Wedded Life - Live with Their Daughter on Oxford Street.

   It is generally considered a matter worthy of comment when a couple celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary, and as a usual thing a great deal of attention is given to such an occasion.  But this week an aged couple residing in this city quietly celebrated an anniversary besides which a mere 50 years of wedded life seems insignificant.  Mr. and Mrs. Simeon B. Titus, both natives of Vermont, now living with their daughter, Mrs. Fanny T. Hazen, at 61 Oxford Street, are the couple and Monday they celebrated the completion of the 63d year during which they have been married.  

   Mr. Titus was born in Vershire, Vt., June 6, 1817, while his wife, was born in the adjoining town of West Fairlee May 14, 1816.  Until ten years ago Mr. Titus continued to reside on the farm on which he was born, and it was only at the age of 74 that he was induced to retire from work and come to live with his daughter.  He was one of 12 children, of whom all but he are now dead.  In his veins runs some of the patriotic blood of the sturdy New England farmers.  His grandfather, Lenox Titus, was one of those who aided in routing the British at the battle of Bennington, and thus indirectly contributed to the final defeat and surrender of Burgoyne's army of invaders at Saratoga.  Later he removed to Vershire where he was one of the pioneer settlers.  The farm on which Mr. Titus was born has been in the family 100 years.

   Mr. Titus's youth, and, indeed, his whole life, has been like many another New England farmer's life.  He attended the district school three months in winter, working on the farm during the rest of the time.  All his brothers and sisters went out into the world and to him as the youngest, it fell to remain at home and take care of the farm.  But if Mr. Titus himself did not go into the world or engage in the defense of his country during her wars, his sons evidently inherited the patriotic impulses of the family.  Of his six sons three entered the Civil war, all being under age at the time.  Two gave their lives in defense of the flag.  One, after suffering months in the prison pen at Andersonville, returned home a physical wreck.  Mrs. Fanny Titus Hazen, the eldest daughter, was a nurse in the Columbian College United States hospital, Washington in 1864-1865.  She is now president of the Army Nurse association of Massachusetts.

  Mrs. Titus, too, seems to have come from a family as patriotic as that of her husband, for her paternal grandfather, William Morris, was in the battle of Concord and Lexington [Note: This is unfortunately not true. He was sent as a soldier to Boston after those battles] and rose in the service until he became a first lieutenant.  Her mother was a Morse and was first cousin to the famous inventor of the Morse telegraph system, which has conferred untold benefits on the country and the world.  Of the 11 children of Mr. and Mrs. Titus, five are still living, four daughters and a son.  The son is Charles M. Titus, of Boston.  Of these, three were present at the celebration of the anniversary.

  Mr. Titus's age would seem to be in no way very remarkable for he comes from an exceptionally long lived family.  His mother lived to be 95 years old, while one of his brothers died at the age of 93.  A sister reached the age of 86 and all the others, with one or two exceptions, lived to a good old age.  He has a large number of descendants in various parts of the world, including several great grandchildren.  At the celebration Monday, which was private and quiet, the aged couple were made happy on this anniversary by the presence of three children, grand and great grandchildren - four generations.  

  Mr. and Mrs. Titus until within a few years attended the Epworth Methodist church at Harvard Square.  Mrs. Titus rarely goes out owing to a fall which she sustained some time ago and in which she injured her ankle so that she does not move around much.  Otherwise she is in perfect health.  About the same time her husband left off attendance, although he still preserves his interest and remains on the visiting list of the pastor.  He is in the best of health with all his faculties seemingly untouched by the advance of age and with the same enjoyment of life which he had fifty years ago.

Mother of how many children

Finding cold facts and figures raises so many questions about our ancestors' lives.  Lately I've been looking into the German line on Dru's side of the family.  This post is to show how finding pieces of information about our ancestors only raises many more questions.

Family member name: Veleska Staverinsky Neumann
Lifetime: 1854 - 1907

Places lived: Prussia; Iowa
Tree branch: Newman
Relation: Dru's 2x great grandmother (Dru's dad's mom's mom's mom)

Wilhelm and Veleska Neumann lived on the southern border between Germany and Poland.  That may explain Veleska's maiden name sounding Polish and her married name being German.  At the time, the area was known as Prussia.

Question #1 - Were Veleska and Wilhelm from different areas? (All of their documents just say Germany, which through time could have meant different places as borders shifted.) Were they a bilingual family?  Were there any objections from family members to them getting married?

Two children, Hugo and Bertha, came along in the next few years after their marriage.

Wilhelm emigrated to the United States alone in 1887, leaving his wife and two young children behind.  People from Prussia emigrated at this time in history for different reasons.  Some came for religious tolerance, some because they were hungry, some for economic opportunity. 

Veleska stayed in Prussia for three years until she made the trip to the United States with her children.  They traveled first to Liverpool, England, then sailed on the SS Nevada to finally reach New York City on May 22, 1890.  Ellis Island was not open yet, so they sailed by the Statue of Liberty and arrived at Castle Clinton immigration center.

As a side note, Veleska was five months pregnant on the voyage.  Her son Paul Newman  was born four months after her arrival.   This would obviously bring about question #2....

Question #2 - Did her husband Wilhelm visit her in Germany shortly before she journeyed to America?  If not, who is the father of Paul?

The family settled just south of Iowa City, Iowa.  She lived there the rest of her life.  

The 1900 US Census was taken ten years after her arrival in 1890.  The 1900 Census had some interesting questions on it.  There are columns titled "Mother of how many children" and "Number of these children living".  

In case the chart is difficult to read, here are Valeska's answers:

Mother of how many children: 13

Number of these children living: 3

Wow, Veleska was only 46 years old, yet she had lost 10 children.

Question #3 - How in the world did she endure the heartache?

Question #4 - Who are these children? What are their names?

To date, there are no other records of these children besides this census.  There are no birth certificates, birth records, baptism records, census records or headstones that I can find.  

More questions - Did all of these deaths happen during the years she was married to Wilhelm?  How did these babies die?

These two numbers on a piece of paper can reveal so much about a family member's life. There is so much left unsaid. I'm heartbroken. 

The Burning of Falmouth

I recently learned that some family members were greatly affected during the Revolutionary War in what is called The Burning of Falmouth.  It occurred in Portland, Maine.

Family member name: William Pearson 
Lifetime: 1740-1776
Tree branch: Pearson
Relation: My 5x great grandfather

William Pearson moved to Falmouth (now called Portland, Maine) in 1762.  He married shortly thereafter and started raising a family which would include five children.  William is mentioned in the book History of Portland in a biographical note.

It says "William Pearson built a one-story house at the eastern end of Fore Street in 1775, and had just moved into it when it was consumed in Mowatt's attack, which swept off every house on that part of the street east of India street."

Local residents called the incident Mowatt's attack or Mowatt's bombardment.

Here is a modern-day map of Portland.  His house would have been around the site of the current Railroad Museum.  It is the first street from the water. This location would have been helpful for his work, since he was a caulker by trade.  A caulker used tar and hemp to make ships watertight.

Apparently those in Falmouth were quite the rebellious bunch. They taunted the British by stealing supplies and helping the cause down in Boston which was well underway since the battles of Lexington and Concord had occurred six months prior.  Unfortunately, they were also defenseless, which is a bad combination.

The British had had enough.  They sailed into Falmouth harbor on the morning of October 18, 1775 with Captain Henry Mowat in command.  A British lieutenant went ashore with an ultimatum: swear allegiance to King George or become cannon fodder.  Option number one was out of the question, so the townspeople evacuated.  The British mercifully gave them two hours to do so.

Multiple war vessels pummeled Falmouth with cannon balls and burning missiles for the rest of the day.  Most of the town was destroyed, about half of the residents became homeless, including my 5x great grandparents and my 4x great grandfather, their son Jonathan.

What a heartache!  Your brand new home is destroyed, your young family needs a place to live, your work is affected because most ships in the harbor were also destroyed.  I don't know how the family handled the situation.  However things got worse because William died less than 6 months later, not yet 37 years old.

Was William one of the "rebels"?  Was he one of the intended targets or was he an innocent victim?  Either way, the family's life got turned upside down during the Revolutionary War in a little-known event called The Burning of Falmouth.

Stock buckle

We were snowed in after a blizzard in Virginia.  My dad finds an old box from somewhere and we dig in to find family treasures galore.

What in the world is this? (Next to the pen.)

We had no clue.  Good thing it was inside a labeled envelope. 

"Silver stock buckle.  This stock buckle was made from Mexican silver dollars and worn by Jonathan Pearson, father of Isaac, therefore great-great grandfather of the Webber Quartette."

My grandpa Roger Pearson Webber was the eldest of the Webber Quartette.

Family member name: Jonathan Pearson 
Lifetime: 1766-1841
Tree branch: Pearson
Relation: My 4x great grandfather

Now we know who, but still, what is a stock buckle?  It's a buckle for a stock.  Duh.  When looking at paintings of men from the 1700s and early 1800s, it's common for them to be wearing a wrapped, folded white linen cloth around their necks.  It's the predecessor to the neck tie, and it's called a stock.  It was the most formal of neckwear.  The stock was wrapped around the neck and had tabs like buttonholes in the back where the stock was secured with a stock buckle.  A stock buckle was often silver and sometimes embellished with gems.  It was jewelry for men.

We don't know what Jonathan Pearson looked like, but here is a photograph of his son, Isaac, wearing a stock.  I like to think he's wearing his father's stock buckle.  I realize how rare it is to possess something that belonged to a great great great great grandfather.  I'm grateful.

Now, the question remains, where did a family in the early 1800s from Maine procure Mexican silver dollars in order to make this stock buckle?  The plot thickens.

Dowry or trousseau?

A 4x6 piece of 200-year-old paper outlines some "money and other things" belonging to my great great great grandmother.  It was found in an envelope labeled by her granddaughter "doubtless the dowry of Miriam Harris".

Family member name: Miriam Hall Harris Pearson 
Lifetime: 1807-1878
Tree branch: Pearson
Relation: 3x great grandmother

dow·ry

ˈdou(ə)rē/

noun

1. property or money brought by a bride to her husband on their marriage.

Dowries are not used much today. In India, dowries were officially outlawed in 1961, but sadly are still used as income for the groom's family. Obviously, they have the negative connotation that a woman is only worth the money she brings into a marriage.

trous·seau

ˌtro͞oˈsō,ˈtro͞oˌsō/

noun

1. the clothes, household linen, and other belongings collected by a bride for her marriage

Over time, the tradition of the dowry in the US first evolved into a trousseau or hope chest.  Sometimes a mom or grandma wanted to pass along some family heirlooms for use when her daughter is married, or the single maiden collects or sews handmade housewares for her future married self.  Those articles were added to the hope chest.   Today that tradition has evolved again into online bridal registries.

Miriam Hall Harris was born in 1807 in North Yarmouth, Maine, not far north of Portland.  She married my great great great grandpa Isaac Pearson, a young widower, in 1837. Since she was almost 30, she would have been considered an old maid by that time.  Research suggests that dowries were still in limited use in New England in the mid-1800s.

Dowry or trousseau?  Decide for yourself. (A transcribed version follows the pictures in case the handwriting is difficult to read.)

Memorandum of money and other things for Miriam Harris: Viz (definition: as follows)
Cash one hundred and twenty one dollars. $121.00
2 packed (?) Bed Quilts  16.00
2 Coverleads  9.00 (perhaps coverlet, meaning bedspread)
2 Bed Quilts  9.00
1 Bed Quilt 3.50
1 Bed Quilt 2.33
1 Counterpin 1.50 (definition: bedspread)
2 Bed puffs 3.00
4 pairs of bed blankets 20.50
2 table cloths 3.00
6 table cloths 8.64
2 table cloths 1.00
2 table cloths 2.25
2 Bowler (?) towels 1.20
6 hand towels 2 hand cloths 2.63
6 hand towels 1.50
6 hand towels 1.00
207.05

Memorandum for Miriam Harris continued
Cash Fifteen Dollars 15.00
1 Dineing table 5.00
1 Breakfast table 4.00
1 Light Stand 1.50
1 Bed Stid 5.00 (perhaps a bedstead, meaning a bed frame)
One Silver waist bukel 1.50 (perhaps a belt buckle?)
32.00
Brought over 207.05
$239.05

The only reason I would lean towards this indeed being a dowry is the fact that cash is included in the assets.  A trousseau would not have included cash.  Calculating for inflation, the $136 in 1830 would  be worth $3,515.00 as of 2018.  Not too shabby.  Go Miriam!  No wonder she held out and nabbed a hottie who later became a lawyer.

Here is my great great great grandma later in life.