Ghost Town Wednesday: Sveadal (McPherson County, Kansas)
I’ve been reading a series of books about Swedish immigrants who came to America and settled in central Kansas beginning in the late-1860’s. According to the Kansas Historical Society, eastern immigration companies sent agents to Europe to encourage settlement in the western part of America. For many Europeans it was seen as an opportunity to have access to good farm land and a chance to make a better life for their families. Many of those Swedish communities that sprung up in central Kansas are still around today and thrive. Today’s ghost town, obviously, was one that didn’t make much of itself.
In 1868 Major Leonard N. Holmberg, a man claiming to have royal Swedish blood coursing through his veins, came to the area in Kansas which would later become McPherson County. The story goes that he had been a lieutenant in the Swedish army and had been given the position of Major in the Union Army during the Civil War. Thereafter, he preferred to be referred to as “Major”.
Holmberg named the town he proposed to build on his property “Sveadal”, a derivative spelling of his homeland Sweden, and built a general store. In 1869 he was appointed as both the postmaster and justice of the peace, but according to Ghost Towns of Kansas, “the latter was a dubious title since he always carried a gun and often used it to scare his farm laborers, just to ‘get ‘em going.’”
His neighbors on the other side of Smoky Hill River weren’t too happy about how he treated his fellow man – some claimed he was “possessed of the devil.” His reputation didn’t earn him any high marks and he eventually lost his government positions. In addition to the general store, Holmberg had built an odd-looking eight-sided house with a wooden tower which he used to watch his farm laborers and keep an eye out for Indians.
The general store would also become the first court house and on March 6, 1870 a meeting was held there to organize McPherson County. Even though there wasn’t much to Sveadal at that time, it was named temporary county seat after an election held on May 2. That summer a military company was organized and Major Holmberg took command of the unit.
Settlers were still streaming to the area, but by 1871 Sveadal showed little sign of growth or the promise of future growth. Whether that was due to the behavior and reputation of its “leading citizen” is not clear. Nevertheless, the post office was closed that year and the county seat was moved to nearby Lindsborg. Lindsborg, another Swedish settlement, and perhaps built on more solid values and reputation, would thrive and Sveadal would fade away.
For the 1875 Kansas census and the 1880 United States census, Leonard Holmberg was enumerated as a farmer and resident of the Smoky Hill township. In the late 1980’s when Ghost Towns of Kansaswas published, the courthouse/general store was still standing and being used for a tool shed, situated on the outskirts of Lindsborg.
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Tombstone Tuesday: Benajah Spelman Phelps (1800-1903)
I was trolling through Vermont cemeteries looking for a subject for today’s article when I came across four graves in the Alburgh Tongue Cemetery in Grand Isle County, all children of “B.S. (or Benajah S.) and Asenath Phelps” … hmm. The children were: Belinda, Cynthia, Horace and Ruth. The grave stone pictures are hard to distinguish as far as dates but it appears that at least three of their children were very young when they died. Their parents Benajah Spelman and Asenath (Fletcher) Phelps are buried, however, in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin… double-hmm.
I found that Benajah lived a very long life, dying at age one hundred and three in Colorado Springs, Colorado – again with the “hmm”. Talk about an intriguing history to investigate — so off I went on the search for more about Benajah.
Benajah Spelman Phelps was born on March 24, 1800 on South Island, Grand Isle County, Vermont to parents Abel and Mary (Pelton) Phelps, their second son. His fourth great-grandfather, William the immigrant, was born in 1599 and Benajah’s great-grandfather Captain Abel Phelps was a Revolutionary War veteran. Benajah’s father was a veteran of the War of 1812. In fact, the island where the family lived was in the middle of Lake Champlain, scene of significant battles which occurred in both the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812.
In 1901 a New York magazine called The Outlook provided the details of the September 11, 1814 battle through the eyes of Benajah, just fourteen years old on that day. Eighty-seven years later Benajah well-remembered the day, “just the same as if it was yesterday.” His father, a farmer was an “orderly sergeant in the milishy”. Abel knew the British had intentions to attack Plattsburgh, New York just across the bay, so knowing he must go and serve with his company he left Benajah in charge of the farm.
On the morning of the September 11, the family arose early, and seeing the British ships in the distance, hastened to leave their home and proceed to a hill about two miles away where they could have a better view of the action. Benajah gave a colorful account in his interview for The Outlook – you can read it here.
One of the things he remembered most was the blood – blood everywhere. After the fighting had ended, he took his family home so he could perform his evening chores. The family was, of course, concerned about Abel and his safety, but he eventually returned to his family and the British had retreated something during the night following the battle. In 1901, Benajah surmised that the British had intended to take Plattsburgh and keep on marching all the way to Washington. Eighty-seven years later he was still elated with the American defeat of the British:
You know General Prevost started from Montreal with thirty thousand soldiers. He calc’lated to go straight to Washington and burn every town and city he came to. That’s what he was calc’latin’; but – here Mr. Phelps indulged in a chuckle of intense satisfaction – he didn’t even git through the first county! No sir! He didn’t. Lost five hundred men, too, and all his shippin’. The British wanted the lake the worst kind. If they could git control of it, it would be very handy for transportin’ men and supplies. But they didn’t git it.
On November 7, 1824, Benajah married Asenath Fletcher, daughter of Calvin and Lydia (Dixon) Fletcher in South Hero, Grand Isle County. The first census record (1850) listing all family members enumerated their children as: Abel (21); Sarah (16); Frederick (14); Charles (12); George (10); Marietta (7) and Lydia (5). Their oldest child, Calvin, was married in 1850 and living in Clinton County, New York (same county as Benajah) with his wife and young family.
I’m guessing that there were two or three children born between Calvin and Abel, and those may have been some of those listed at Find-A-Grave as the infant children of Benajah and Asenath. Benajah was likely a farmer, among other things. A Vermont geology report indicates that in 1834 Benajah and a business associate named Horace Wadsworth built a hotel called the “Mansion House” in Alburgh. The reason the hotel would be mentioned in a geology report, I presume, is because Alburgh was known for its “medicinal waters”.
In 1836, records of the Vermont legislature indicate that Benajah was “inspector of hops” for Grand Isle County. I presume that had something to do with the business of brewing spirits. According to early New England history, hops was an important crop during colonial days and became more commercially important in the late eighteenth century. This may have been a trade or skill passed down in Benajah’s family because hops had been a major crop in the Tewksbury area of England where his ancestors lived.
The next public record I found for Benajah was a notice in the Burlington Weekly Free Press on December 2, 1842 – apparently Benajah had declared bankruptcy, so perhaps he had over-extended himself with the hotel. By 1850, he had moved his family across the bay and into New York’s Clinton County where oldest son Calvin also resided.
In son George’s obituary years later it was noted that George and his family moved to Fond du Lac, Wisconsin when he was a young boy, so perhaps Benajah moved his family west not long after the 1850 census. In 1860 he was a farmer in Fond du Lac and five of his children were still residing at home: Frederick, Charles, George, Mariette and Lydia.
On June 1, 1865, Asenath died at the age of sixty-two and was buried in Fond du Lac’s Empire Cemetery. After her death, it appears that Benajah lived with his children at various times until his death. No record could be found of him in 1870, but it’s likely he was still in Fond du Lac because his children and their families were enumerated there (his name was often misspelled on census records).
In 1880, Benajah was living with George and his family in Taylor County, Wisconsin, eighty years old and a gardener. Sometime between 1880 and 1900, George moved west to Colorado Springs, Colorado and was the proprietor of Phelps Hotel in 1900. His one hundred year-old father Benajah was living with him and his family. The following year, Benajah would become somewhat of a celebrity as articles began to be published about his amazing longevity.
The Outlook article published in 1901 began by introducing Benajah to its readers:
On a typical New England March day, seven months more than one hundred and one years ago, in an island on Lake Champlain, Benajah Phelps first opened his eyes on scenes of earth. It seems as if there entered his physical constitution that day something of the ruggedness of the New England winter and of the strength of his native hills, for still he abides among us. Perhaps when in accord with the pious custom of New England, he was named Benajah, after him of Kabzeel, the captain of David’s guard, there came upon him something of the superb physical endowment of this son of Jehoiada, who slew a lion in the pit in time of snow and laid low “an Egyptian, a man of great stature, five cubits high; and in the Egyptian’s hand was a spear like a weaver’s beam; and he went down to him with a staff, and plucked the spare of the Egyptian’s hand, and slew him with his own spear.” However this may be, Mr. Phelps is not only living but very much alive.
He was interviewed on his one hundred and first birthday, and when asked about his health, declared that it was “toler’ble, toler’ble. I don’t eat much meat. I’m gettin’ old. My teeth ain’t as good as they was.” He was described as an observant and intelligent man and was proud to have voted in the last presidential election in the “woman-suffrage State of Colorado”.
On November 21, 1903, Benajah Phelps “passed away very quietly, the lamp of his life merely flickered out”, according to his obituary in the Colorado Springs Weekly Gazette. By that point in his life, he had “no property to dispose of, but in his dreams and fancies he often imagined that he was on the farm and that he must sell portions of it for one purpose or another.” He was taken back to Fond du Lac and buried next to Asenath.
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Military History Monday: The Battle of Middle Creek
I’ve been reading an excellent book about James Abram Garfield, the twentieth President of the United States (look for a book review soon). I didn’t really know that much about him, except that he was assassinated not long after he was inaugurated in 1881. Not a lot of books have been written about him, but he lived an amazing life, rising from poverty to the presidency.
One event that caught my attention, and made him famous, was the Civil War Battle of Middle Creek in eastern Kentucky. The description provided by author Candice Mallard reminded me of the Bible story of Gideon and his rout of the Midianites.
James Garfield had been pursuing an academic career as a professor, and later president of the Eclectic Institute, when an Ohio state senator died unexpectedly. Garfield was asked to take his seat and later won it outright. When the Civil War began, he was eager to enlist, although Ohio Governor William Dennison, Jr. convinced him his service in the legislature was needed more urgently at the time.
In the summer of 1861 Garfield entered the Union Army as a lieutenant colonel, and after reaching the age of thirty in November, was promoted to full colonel. His first task was to assemble the 42nd Ohio Regiment which he would command. Defending Kentucky, a strategic border state, from Rebel advances, was his first assignment. Kentucky was also the birth home of President Abraham Lincoln, who emphasized, “I hope to have God on my side, but I must have Kentucky.”
As it turned out, however, Garfield and his regiment were outnumbered (not to mention inexperienced) and faced an Confederate general, Humphrey Marshall, who had graduated from West Point in 1832, one year following Garfield’s birth. Garfield, an academic, was up against Marshall, a seasoned military tactician.
Still, Garfield didn’t hesitate to take on the challenge – his first step was to pour over maps of eastern Kentucky so he could familiarize himself with the area his troops had been tasked to defend. The battle for eastern Kentucky, however, would come down to one decisive campaign in early 1862.
Garfield and his troops (which included not only the 42nd Ohio Infantry but the 14th and 22nd Kentucky Infantries) departed on their mission in November of 1861. In the early days of January 1862 they were approaching Paintsville, Kentucky where Marshall’s troops were encamped. The Rebels, although outnumbering Garfield’s troops, were low on both supplies and morale. At that time Garfield was about eighteen miles away, so instead of advancing on the enemy, Marshall decided to stay put, hold Paintsville and see what transpired.
Marshall must have realized that it would have done him little good to attempt a direct attack because of the lack of supplies. Garfield also knew that he, with mostly “green” recruits, was not only outnumbered but “out-experienced” – plus the fact that the Kentuckians weren’t all that well-armed or likely predisposed to be fighting their fellow Kentuckians in the first place. Like Marshall, Garfield could have decided to just sit and wait.
Instead, Garfield, according to Garfield: A Biography by Allan Peskin, “a strong believer in ‘vigorous and well directed audacity,’ was eager for action.” His staff was far more cautious and advised he wait, but instead Garfield was determined to advance. At the time, the 40th Ohio had not yet caught up to the 42nd and the Kentuckians under Garfield’s command. Considering that, his plan going forward was indeed audacious – Garfield chose to divide the small force into three detachments and try to deceive the Rebels into believing they were facing a much larger force.
There were three roads leading into Paintsville and Garfield began by sending the first detachment down the river road. Marshall had already stationed Confederate pickets along each road leading to the town, so it wasn’t surprising when the two sides met. Garfield’s troops made a lot of noise, which after the Confederates reported back to Marshall, brought more Rebels to defend the river road.
About an hour later Garfield sent the second detachment up the second road, also making lots of noise. Marshall sent reserves not already fighting the first Union detachment down that road. Garfield’s last detachment was sent down the third road, and in the ensuing skirmishes, Marshall’s forces became convinced (wrongly, of course) that they were facing an overwhelming force. Already low on morale and scurrying about to respond to Garfield’s “advances”, the Rebels instead decided to flee from the area, leaving Paintsville deserted.
From this point on, the Rebels were forced to continue retreating toward Prestonsburg and the Middle Creek area. In the meantime the 40th Ohio arrived under the command of Colonel Cranor. Cranor wanted his men to rest before continuing on, but Garfield wanted to seize the opportunity to pursue Marshall.
Around noon on January 9, about eleven hundred men with three days of rations, started in the direction of the fleeing Rebels. As they drew closer to Marshall’s position it became apparent they were about to encounter the enemy, so Garfield sent word back to Paintsville to send reinforcements. That night his troops spent the night shivering in an icy cold rain, too near enemy lines to risk camp fires.
As it turned out, Marshall’s troops on the very same night had become dispirited enough to demand retreat from Kentucky. At three o’clock on the morning of January 10, Garfield rallied his troops and an hour later were again advancing toward their target. Garfield thought Middle Creek would be a good place for his troops to entrench themselves, thinking that Marshall was a few miles upstream at Abbot’s Creek.
Instead, as they approached Middle Creek, shots were exchanged with the Rebels. By midday they had seized one prisoner. Garfield paused at one spot and could see enemy positions in the distance. His plan had been to cut off Marshall’s retreat, but instead realized he was now facing most of Marshall’s troops.
Again, however, Garfield chose audacity. He sent two companies to clear one side of the valley of Rebels, and then instead of waiting to see the results, he ordered the rest of his troops into a battalion drill, marching as if they were on parade – “for the sake of bravado and audacity”.
Very recent history would be repeating itself, because his intention again was to make the Rebels think they were facing a more overwhelming force. It worked because Marshall later related that he was convinced that Garfield had at least five thousand men. Even with the deception and ensuing confusion, it wasn’t an easy victory, with each side advancing and falling back throughout the day. As Peskin wrote:
This was the pattern of the day’s fighting: a succession of uncoordinated charges and withdrawals, with a great deal of shooting and very little bloodshed – a “regular ‘bushwacking’ battle.” Garfield handled his troops with little imagination or enterprise, flinging them against the rebel line in driblets, never committing more than two or three hundred at any one time. . . Marshall, for his part, fought a completely passive battle, content, by and large, merely to maintain his original position. At various times during the afternoon a well-directed charge could have sent Garfield’s disorganized men reeling down the valley, but Marshall did not really want a victory. He was satisfied to continue his retreat in peace.
As Civil War battles went, this one wasn’t particularly bloody, although there were casualties – and more on the Confederate side. After the battle ended, however, both sides greatly exaggerated the others one’s casualties – Garfield was sure at last 125 Confederates had been killed and Marshall thought his troops had killed 250 and wounded another 300. Who knows what would have happened, for either side, had Marshall and his troops not been confused and dispirited by Garfield’s deceptive tactics in the first place at Paintsville.
For James Garfield, it earned him a reputation for “bravado and audacity” and a promotion to brigadier general. That’s not to say his triumph didn’t give him pause. As author Candice Mallard related in her book, Destiny of the Republic, Garfield, upon seeing the enemy mortally wounded and strewn about, realized he was responsible for the carnage. She continued: “It was in that moment, Garfield would later tell a friend, that ‘something went out of him . . . that never came back; the sense of the sacredness of life and the impossibility of destroying it.’”
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Surname Saturday: Brinson
Brinson
I don’t usually write about surnames from my own family tree, but I’ve been researching this line a bit and there are some pretty interesting characters – so why not? One of my ancestors appears to be perhaps the first Brinson to immigrate to America in 1677. But, first a bit about the origins of the surname. This one has several theories and they are as follows:
House of Names – The Brinsons lived in the village of Brinton in County Norfolk. The name was first found in Herefordshire where a family seat had been held from ancient times, and well before the Norman Conquest. Interesting, because another source believes the name actually had French (Normandy) origins and came to England as a result of the Norman Conquest.
Internet Surname Database – Brinson is of Old French origin, originally a locational name from “Briencun” in Normandy. Presumably following the Norman Conquest, a family assigned a place name as “Brimstone Hill” in County Essex. This source also adds that the name may derive from a form of the Middle English word “brem(e)” or “brim(me)” (vigorous or fierce), which was originally derived from an Olde English word “breme” – add “-son” to it and you get “Brimson” (close). For more information click the link above.
4Crests – This was a locational name ‘of Branston’, a parish in a Lincoln diocese. If so, the name might have originally derived from an Old English word “Branstun” which mean someone who lived where broom grew.
Like the Internet Surname Database, both Ancestry.com and New Dictionary of American Family Names believe the surname origin is French, which of course, was likely introduced in England following the Norman Conquest. Interestingly, none of these sources mentions County Devon in England, which is where my ancestors hailed from.
Daniel Brinson (1653-1696)
Daniel Brinson was born on September 8, 1653 in County Devon, England to William and Margaret Brinson. Records show that Daniel arrived on these shores in 1677, according to The Philadelphia and Bucks County Register of Arrivals:
Daniel Brinson of membury parish in ye County of Devon – arived in this River the 28 day of the 7th month 1677 in the Willing mind of London of m[ast]er Lucome. maryed to ffrances green land of East Jersey the 8th day of the 8th month 1681.
In early records, the family name was sometimes referred to as “Brunson”, “Brynson”, “Brymson” or “Brimson”. One reference, the Somerset County Historical Quarterly (Volume III, 1914), has quite a bit of information on the Brinson and Greenland families, although I believe some of it to be incorrect based on more recently located historical records (more on that below).
As mentioned in the register of arrivals record above, Daniel married Frances Greenland on October 8, 1681. Frances’ father Dr. Henry Greenland was a prominent citizen, said to have been the first to settle in Princeton, New Jersey. According to Princeton history, Dr. Greenland built a “house of accommodation” (tavern) there in 1683 and part of it still survives as part of the Gulick House, an historic landmark.
Daniel settled along the same highway around 1685 on land that is the site of another historical site known as “the Barracks”. That house was built by Richard Stockton, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, and may have been used during the French and Indian War to house soldiers.
Daniel may have had a violent temper and abused Frances, according to Riots and Revelry in Early America:
While court records for seventeenth-century New Jersey are relatively sparse, we do know, for example, that in 1694 Doctor Henry Greenland appeared in the Middlesex Court of quarter sessions on behalf of his daughter Frances to complain that she had been abused by her husband, Daniel Brynson.
In 1693, Dr. Greenland patented four hundred acres of land about a mile from what is today Princeton University, on the Millstone River, and on this plantation Daniel Brinson lived until his death in 1696. The children that Daniel and Frances had were: Barefoot, Margaret, Mary and Anne. According to Patents & Deeds & Other Early Records of New Jersey 1664-1703, an nuncupative (oral) will was recorded on June 9, 1696:
Nuncupative Will of Daniel Brymson of Milston R. declarede before Mary Davis, Sarah Gannett, Jonathan Davis and Samuel Davis. Wife Francis dau. of Dr. Greenland, son Barefoot, eldest daughter Ruth and apparently other children, Real and personal property. Proved Sept. 15, 1696.
After Daniel died, Frances married a Quaker, John Horner.
Barefoot Brinson
Barefoot Brinson was born in 1686 and said to have been named after his grandfather Henry Greenland’s friend, Dr. Walter Barefoote (who is also mentioned in Henry’s will). The Somerset County Historical Quarterly described Dr. Barefoote in this manner:
. . . Dr. Walter Barefoot (or Barford, as the name is given in England) who came to Kittery, Maine, in 1656 or 1657, and for thirty years till his death, 1688, was said to be the most litigating and scandal-raising personage connected with the Piscataqua region, whether as doctor, captain, prisoner, prison-keeper, Deputy Governor, land speculator or Chief Justice. He was well-educated and wrote a good hand. He was a churchman, but a sturdy and quarrelsome supporter of the Stuart policy, while most of his neighbors were Puritans. . .
I couldn’t locate an exact marriage record, but most family researchers believe Barefoot married Mary Lawrence (or Marritje Laurence Popinga) around 1721. At least two children, John and Ruth, were mentioned in his will. I believe, however that the Somerset County Historical Quarterly record was incorrect in saying that John married a woman by the surname of Arrowsmith, although I suppose she could have been a first wife.
Our research indicate that Barefoot’s son John married Hannah Anne Stout. Barefoot’s will was written in 1742 or 1743 and one of the witnesses was Joseph Stout, probably Hannah’s uncle, so John marrying into the Stout family seems more likely. It is presumed that Barefoot died sometime in 1748 because his will was proved on May 13 of that year.
On November 21, 1748 Mary Brunson (an alternate spelling) advertised about three hundred acres of land for sale in the New York Gazette. Executors for Barefoot’s will were Mary Brunson and Thomas Lawrence (her brother I presume).
Barefoot was also sheriff of Somerset County, New Jersey and according to History of Princeton and Its Institutions, Volume 1, serving until his death in 1748.
The Brinson family eventually made their way to Pulaski County, Kentucky and intermarried with the Earps, the family of my grandmother Okle Emma Erp (family changed spelling of name, as the legend goes, to distance themselves from their infamous relative Wyatt Earp). Just as I was concluding research for this article, I found a record that indicates that Daniel Brinson bought land from Thomas Budd on February 10, 1685, who it looks like may have been the grandfather of Mary Budd. Mary Budd married Joshua Earp, who is the common ancestor I share with Wyatt Earp, my third cousin three times removed.
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Ghost Town Wednesday: Swastika, New Mexico
Today, this would be considered an unfortunate name for a town, ghostly or otherwise. Believe it or not, years ago the swastika symbol was widely used. It was also used by Native American tribes like the Navajos, Hopis, Apaches and others (although later abandoned). The 45th Infantry Division of the United States military used the symbol until the 1930’s. Apparently, it was in wide use in the state of New Mexico, and not just by the Native Americans.
This article is no longer available for free at this site. It was re-written and enhanced with sources as part of an article entitled “Bullets, Barons, Boom and Bust: The Ghost Towns and Storied History of Colfax County”, published in the July-August 2020 issue of Digging History Magazine. Should you prefer to purchase the article only, contact me for more information.
I invite you to check out Digging History Magazine. Since January 2018 new articles are published in a digital magazine (PDF) available by individual issue purchase or subscription (with three options). Most issues run between 70-85 pages, filled with articles of interest to history-lovers and genealogists — it’s all history, right? ???? No ads — just carefully-researched, well-written stories, complete with footnotes and sources.
Want to know more or try out a free issue? You can download either (or both) of the January-February 2019 and March-April 2019 issues here: https://digging-history.com/free-samples/
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Surname Saturday: Munger
There at least two schools of thought regarding the origins of today’s surname. Ultimately, it appears to me that its origins were most likely Germanic, although the first settlers who came to America in the 1630’s came directly from England. Two sources indicate the name had English origins with different meanings, and they state:
- An English variant of Monger (Dictionary of American Family Names).
- *The name was brought to England during the Norman Conquest of 1066 and was a locational name “of de la Monceau”, meaning hill or mound. In the thirteenth century records show two people, one named Robert de Muncella in County Wiltshire and another named Robert de Munceaux in County Norfolk (4Crests.com)
For the English theory, spelling variations of the name might include “Monger”, “Mungor” or “Mounger” (and probably others).
The other source, House of Names, traces the name back to its Germanic origins. Their theory is that the name derives from the German word “ungarn” which means “someone from Hungary (a Magyar).” The name, was first seen in Bohemia, “where the name was closely identified in early medieval times with the feudal society that played a prominent role throughout European history. Bearers of Munger would later emerge as a noble family with great influence, having many distinguished branches, and become noted for involvement in social, economic and political affairs.”
Spelling variations of the German surname include Unger, Ungerer, Ungarer, Ungare, Ungars, Ungers, Ungert and many more, according to House of Names.
If true regarding Germanic roots, why did the first Munger immigrating to America come from England and not Germany? In 1915, the Munger family history was published by J.B. Munger of Springfield, Massachusetts, spanning the years from 1639, when J.B.’s ancestor Nicholas Munger arrived, until 1914.
J.B. believed that Nicholas was “the individual personally responsible for our being here.” He further explained:
As to the individual, I have answered: NICHOLAS MUNGER. As to the nationality, English; evolved through the “melting pot” from several of the Teutonic tribes who came across from the far east of Europe, gradually moving westward. The historian has said that “The tribes which later constituted the German nation, lived along the shores of the Caspian Sea. The vanguard of the tribes which swept across the middle of Europe from Asia to the West, were the Celts. After them came the Teutonic tribes, and the hard crowded Celts were forced out upon the westernmost edge of Europe, across the channel to the British Isles, where they are represented to this day by the Welsh, the Irish, and the Highland Scots.”
Immigration records, at least those of the nineteenth century, seem to lean more heavily in favor of Germanic origins (Germany, Switzerland and Bohemia), this according to New York passenger lists. Nevertheless, J.B. Munger believed that the majority of those bearing the Munger surname at the time his research was published were directly descended from Nicholas Munger, an Englishman. Oh, and he had his own theory as to the name’s meaning as well:
Monger: Anglo-Saxon Mancgere. Originally a merchant of the highest class. Aelfric’s Mancgere is represented as trading in purple and silk; gold, wine, oil &c. The Mancgere (merchant) of Saxon times was a much more important personage than those who, in our day, bear the name. He was the prototype of the merchant princes of the nineteenth century; he was a dealer in many things which the ships-men brought from many lands.” (From English Surnames)
Admittedly, J.B. Munger was aware that the name was seen among English, German and the Dutch (with various spellings). A Swedish variation of the name would be “Mungerson.” He related a story that a United States government official, once visiting Geneva, Switzerland, was told his name (Munger) was German and was to be written as “Münger” which would have rendered the pronunciation of the “u” as “e” or “ew”.
He stated he had never attempted “researches on the ‘other side,’ but have confined our labors to this country [England]. We know the first arrival came from England; that he spelled his name MUNGER, as did his children and grandchildren, and following generations, and as it is yet spelled by his descendants in the territory where he first established himself in AMERICA as a ‘Freeman.’”
Nicholas Munger
J.B. Munger claimed to have very little definitive information regarding Nicholas. Although his name did not appear in ship passenger records, many believed that Nicholas came to America with the Henry Whitfield colony and was apprenticed to William Chittenden, a member of the company which settled the town of Guilford, Connecticut.
In 1652 Nicholas took the Oath of Fidelity and became a Freeman. In that day one had to have attained the age of at least twenty-one before being granted such status, so perhaps Nicholas was born around 1630 or 1631. He was referred to in Henry Goldham’s will as a son-in-law, which could have also meant step-son, according to J.B. Munger. Given the fact that Nicholas later married, the step-son theory seems the most plausible.
Nicholas married Sarah Hall on June 2, 1659 at Guilford and died on October 16, 1668 after he and Sarah had two sons, John and Samuel, in the early 1660’s.
Asahel Munger
Asahel Munger was born in Fairhaven, Connecticut in 1805 to parents Daniel and Eunice Munger. J.B. Munger had very little to say about Asahel in his book, but history records that Asahel met a tragic end around 1840 while serving as a missionary.
In the preface to his published diary, it indicates that Asahel and his wife Eliza were sent out from the North Litchfield Congregational Association of Connecticut and left for the journey west from Oberlin, Ohio. They were sent out as missionaries in 1839 with fellow missionary J.S. Griffin to the Oregon Territory. They were said to have traveled with fur trappers and wintered with Marcus Whitman, a missionary to the Cayuse Indians.
Asahel began a journal on May 4, 1839, essentially a long letter to his mother which detailed their arduous journey. Eliza was sick quite a bit and along the way they encountered bands of Indians in late May. However, on June 1 Asahel recorded that they hadn’t been “molested at all by the Indians.”
It appears that their journey continued seven days a week, perhaps even on the Sabbath. Asahel would often record the Sabbath as “a dreary day”. On June 9, “this is a gloomy Sabbath only for the presence of Jesus.” A week later he wrote again of a dreary Sabbath:
Oh how we need a Sabbath, our hunters went out to kill game, slaughtered 2 Buffalo and one Elk either of which had more meat than was consumed. The trust of my soul is in God. I will lean on Him. It is good to get near Him in time of trouble.
On June 30, they traveled on, Asahel communing with God as he traveled along. By July 7 they had reached the encampment of the American Fur Company and had the opportunity to have church services, preaching to both white men and Indians.
After learning that Marcus Whitman was in need of a carpenter, Asahel struck a deal and the Mungers would spend the winter with the Whitmans. Their relationship was cemented early on – Whitman’s wife Narcissa declaring, “It seems as if the Lord’s hand was in it in sending Mr. and Mrs. Munger here just at this time, and I know not how to feel grateful enough.”
The missionary board that was sponsoring the Whitmans warned, however, against fraternizing with so-called “independent” missionaries. Still, Marcus found the Mungers to be quite useful in service to his own mission. He wrote his board that: “He is a good house carpenter. In that time I hope he will finish our house & make some comfortable furniture & some farming implements.”
The Whitmans, notwithstanding their Board’s warnings, seemed to be pleased with their association with the Mungers. However, a few months later something went wrong – Asahel seemed to have gone quite mad. Narcissa wrote a friend: “Our Brother Munger is perfectly insane and we are tried to know how to get along with him.”
Marcus concluded that the Mungers must be sent home. “He has become an unsafe man to remain about the Mission as he holds himself as the representative of the church & often having revelations.” However, by this time the fur caravans were no longer operating and no one could be found to escort the Mungers back East. By this time, Asahel and Eliza also had a young child.
Instead of heading back East, the Mungers traveled further west to the Willamette Valley with two other missionary families. The move apparently did nothing to improve Asahel’s mental state. Just before Christmas of 1840, Asahel died after “attempting to demonstrate a miracle by driving nails into his hands, then burning them in the fire”, according to the National Park Service web site.
What caused Asahel to lose his sanity is unknown, and certainly a tragic tale given how his life ended. Eliza married Henry Buxton not long afterwards it appears, perhaps in 1841. The Whitmans later met their own tragic end in 1847 (look for that story one day on this blog).
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Ghost Town Wednesday: “Old Ulysses” Kansas
I was looking for an interesting ghost town to feature this week, preferably short and sweet since I’m under the weather this week with some nasty upper respiratory thing-y. I opened up one of my trusty ghost town books, Ghost Towns of Kansas by Daniel Fitzgerald. It fell open to “Old” Ulysses – what’s that about “Old”?
I soon found that there was an “Old” and a “New” Ulysses in western Kansas in Grant County. Get ready for it – it was named for who else but Ulysses S. Grant! Okay – I thought this might make an interesting article. Little did I know . . . read on.
In 1885 a town company had been formed and the town platted. On July 16, A.J. Hoisington, president of the company, signed on the dotted line. I was surprised to discover, however, that one of my Earp cousins, George Washington Earp, surveyed the town site. George was Wyatt’s first cousin and Wyatt is my third cousin, three times removed (see article here), so I suppose that would make George and I the same relation.
George Washington Earp was born on December 13, 1864 in Montgomery County, Missouri to parents Jonathan Douglas and Dorcas (Cox) Earp. He would have heard the stories about Wyatt, and at the age of eighteen he had a “burning ambition to be a cowboy”, according to Legends of America. He headed to Dodge City about the time Wyatt and his brothers were moving on to Tombstone, Arizona (and we all know what happened there). Wyatt refused to help his cousin, believing the town too rough-and-tumble, so he instead sent George to Garden City.
Did you enjoy this article snippet? Yes? Check out Digging History Magazine. This article has been updated significantly with new research and published in the July-August 2019 issue of the magazine. The magazine is on sale in the Digging History Magazine store and features these stories (100+ pages of stories, no ads):
- “Drought-Locusts-Earthquakes-B-Blizzards (Oh My!)” – Perhaps no state is possessive of a more appropriate motto than Kansas: Ad Astra per Aspera (“To the stars through difficulties”, or more loosely translated “a rough road leads to the stars”1). By the time the state adopted its motto in 1876, fifteen years post-statehood, it had experienced not only a brutal, bloody beginning (“Bloody Kansas”) but had endured (and continued to struggle with) extreme pestilence, preceded by severe drought and even an earthquake in April 1867. In the early days being Kansan was not for the faint of heart.
- “Home Sweet Soddie” – For years The Great Plains had been a vast expanse to be endured on the way to California and Oregon. Now the United States government was making 270 million acres available for settlement – practically free if, after five years, all criteria had been met. The criteria, referred to as “proving up” meant improvements must be made (and proof provided) by cultivating the land and building a home. For many their first home would be a dugout, a sod-covered hole in the ground.
- “Wholesale Murder at Newton” – It’s called “The Gunfight at Hyde Park” or the “Newton Massacre”. One newspaper headlined it as “Wholesale Murder at Newton”, another called it an “affray” and another a “riot”. Whatever, it was bloody, and one of the biggest gunfights in the history of the Wild West, more deadly than the legendary gunfight at the OK Corral.
- “Kansas Ghost Towns” – It might be more appropriate to call this Kansas ghost town, established by Ernest Valeton de Boissière in 1869, a “ghost commune” (Silkville). Nicodemus. There was something genuinely African in the very name. White folks would have called their place by one of the romantic names which stud the map of the United States, Smithville, Centreville, Jonesborough; but these colored people wanted something high-sounding and biblical, and so hit on Nicodemus.
- “The Land of Odds: Kwirky Kansas” – For some of us the mention of Kansas invokes memories of one of the classic films of our childhood, The Wizard of Oz. With a tongue-in-cheek reference this article highlights some of the state’s history and people in a series of vignettes – some serious, some not so serious (the real “oddballs”) in a light-hearted fashion. A rollicking fun article covering a range of Kansas “oddities” and “oddballs”, including one of the most dangerous quacks to have ever practiced medicine, Dr. John R. Brinkley.
- “Mining Kansas Genealogical Gold” – One of my favorite “adventures in research” is to discover obscure genealogical records or perhaps stumble across a set of records at Ancesty.com or Fold3 which turns out to be a gold mine of information. This article highlights some real gems available at Ancestry.
- “Chautauqua: The Poor Man’s Educational Opportunity” – During an era spanning the mid-1870s through the early twentieth century, Kansans, like many Americans across the country, anticipated the summer season known as Chautauqua, an event Theodore Roosevelt called “the most American thing in America”. By 1906 when Roosevelt made such an astute observation the movement had evolved into a non-sectarian gathering, where “all human faiths in God are respected. The brotherhood of man recreating and seeking the truth in the broad sunlight of love, social co-operation.”
- And more, including book reviews and tips for finding elusive genealogical records.
Since January 2018 new articles are published in a digital magazine (PDF) available by individual issue purchase or subscription (with three options). Most issues run between 70-85 pages, filled with articles of interest to history-lovers and genealogists — it’s all history, right? 🙂 No ads — just carefully-researched, well-written stories, complete with footnotes and sources.
Want to know more or try out a free issue? You can download either (or both) of the January-February 2019 and March-April 2019 issues here: https://digging-history.com/free-samples/
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Tombstone Tuesday: What Happened to Stephen Paul?
Stephen Paul was born in Robeson, North Carolina around 1836 to parents John H. and Mary (Wise) Paul. John and Mary had both been born in North Carolina and after they married in 1825 they produced a large family. By 1850 there were thirteen children enumerated, ranging from William (25) down to Catherine (3) – in the middle of the pack was Stephen, age 14.
It’s likely that the Paul family had departed North Carolina sometime between 1848 and 1850, settling in Henry County, Tennessee where they were enumerated in 1850. Around the age of twenty, young Stephen Paul was married to fourteen year-old Narcissa Ann Gresham (spelled Grissum on their marriage record) in Carter County, Missouri, where the Paul family had migrated to following the 1850 census.
This article was enhanced, complete with sources, and published in the April 2018 issue of Digging History Magazine. The entire issue was devoted to the Civil War. Should you prefer to purchase the article only, contact me for more information.
I invite you to check out Digging History Magazine. Since January 2018 new articles are published in a digital magazine (PDF) available by individual issue purchase or subscription (with three options). Most issues run between 70-85 pages, filled with articles of interest to history-lovers and genealogists — it’s all history, right? 🙂 No ads — just carefully-researched, well-written stories, complete with footnotes and sources.
Want to know more or try out a free issue? You can download either (or both) of the January-February 2019 and March-April 2019 issues here: https://digging-history.com/free-samples/
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Mining History: The Rock Springs Massacre
By the mid-nineteenth century there were few Chinese immigrants who had made their way to America. In early 1849, there were only fifty-four in the entire state of California, but that would change as word spread and gold rush fever took hold.
The prospect of work, either in the mines or whatever supporting job could be found, brought Chinese men fleeing rebellion and poverty in their own country to California and beyond. Chinese immigration continued apace until in 1876 there were over 150,000 Chinese immigrants in the United States, 116,000 in California alone.
Most men came alone, calling themselves “Sojourners,” implying they never intended to stay, but rather someday would return to their homes and families in China. As menial and low-paying as some of the jobs they took, the Chinese still earned more money in America – and if they were careful and saved it, would amass what to them would be quite a fortune.
When it became necessary to build a railroad heading east out of Sacramento, it was the Chinese workers who took on the back-breaking and dangerous work of laying track and blasting tunnels through the mountains. Of the approximately twelve thousand Chinese who helped build the Central Pacific railroad line, about one-tenth, or twelve hundred, were killed.
When the Central Pacific met the Union Pacific in Utah in 1869 there was a great ceremony – and then thousands of jobs disappeared, many of which had been filled by the Chinese. Yet, they stayed even without their families and continued to find ways to continue working, especially in the West during the mining boom years, from Tombstone, Arizona to the mining camps of Montana.
Today, the saying goes that illegal immigrants should be welcomed because “they do the work most Americans won’t”. To a certain extent that was true in the mid-to-late 1800’s for Chinese immigrants. They were willing to work and, truth be told, were probably exploited.
It became apparent that in many cases, however, Chinese workers accepting lower pay were displacing (or replacing) Caucasian workers. In the summer of 1870 white workers in San Francisco held large demonstrations – the Chinese were no longer welcome. The following year a riot broke out in Los Angeles and twenty-three Chinese were killed, yet no one was charged with their murders.
In 1882, the United States Congress unsuccessfully tried to limit the number of Chinese immigrants by passing stricter immigration laws. Years before the Chinese had worked in the gold mines, but now they were being hired to work in the coal mines, often replacing other immigrant miners of Scandinavian, Italian, Welsh or Irish heritage. Again, the Chinese were simply willing to work for much lower wages.
The Union Pacific line stretched across southern Wyoming in large part because of the area’s large deposits of coal, and the Union Pacific owned some of those mines. When the railroad became bogged down in financial difficulties, they cut miners’ pay. To continue boosting their bottom line, the company required its employees to shop in their company stores where prices were much higher. Unsurprisingly, this brought labor unrest and strikes.
After one such strike in 1875, Union Pacific brought in Chinese miners. The Chinese miners outnumbered white miners three to one at that point, and by 1885 there were six hundred Chinese and three hundred white miners working the mines of Rock Springs, Wyoming. Newspapers across the country were already filled with articles and editorials calling for stricter Chinese immigration.
On the second day of September 1885, after white immigrant miners had struck and failed in their attempts to establish a union, tensions boiled over. The Chinese, brought in ostensibly to break the strikes, were allowed to work the richest coal seams, according to History.com.
An armed mob of white miners converged on the area of Rock Springs known as “Chinatown” and began killing the Chinese, even as they scrambled to flee the mob. That day was a Chinese holiday and most of the miners were not at work. Paul W. Papa, author of It Happened in Wyoming, described the scene:
They fell upon the Chinese, beating men with the butts of their guns and robbing them. If a Chinese man didn’t have a weapon, he was released – after, of course, he was robbed of all his possessions. If a Chinese man didn’t stop, he was shot. The Chinese panicked. They ran to their homes, but found no safe haven. The mob easily broke down the doors of the hastily built shacks and beat the men as the screaming women wrapped their arms around crying children – partially to protect them and partially to prevent them from seeing their fathers being so severely beaten.
Not only were the Chinese killed, some were mutilated, scalped, decapitated or hung – some acts so despicable and heinous I won’t mention them here. At least twenty-eight Chinese were killed and about fifteen wounded, although some sources believe the toll could have been higher.
When the Chinese returned the following week, escorted by United States troops, they discovered horrifying scenes of the carnage left behind. In an essay entitled The Rock Springs Massacre, author Tom Rea describes the scene encountered by a trainload of Chinese miners:
Perhaps the odor of burnt things gave the men some idea of what they were about to see. Mixed with it was a sicker, sweeter smell – the smell of dead things that had started to decay. The 600 Chinese coal miners had been traveling all day – toward San Francisco, Calif., they had been told, and safety. Then they stopped, and the sound of the boxcar doors being slid open came rumbling down the train. . . . the men knew immediately where they were. They were right back in Rock Springs, Wyoming. . . . Rock Springs’ Chinatown was gone. Even more horrifying, there still were bodies in what had been Chinatown’s streets. . . . Some had been buried by the coal company, but some [these] had not. Many were in pieces. These were bodies of their friends, sons, fathers, brothers and cousins, murdered by a mob of white coal miners.
The railroad, however, presumably brought the miners back to bury their dead and then get back to work. Understandably, some of the Chinese were afraid to return to work, but after the threat of being fired (and never hired again) if they didn’t return, many acquiesced and went back to the mines. Some found a way to leave Rock Springs and never returned.
Even after all of the carnage and willful murder of the Chinese, in broad daylight no less, no one would step forward as a witness. No charges were ever filed against the white miners. After Chinese diplomats tallied damages in the amount of almost $150,000, Congress finally agreed to reimburse the miners for their losses.
Camp Pilot Butte was built between Rock Springs and Chinatown and troops were stationed there for several more years. The Chinese, however, gradually departed Wyoming, even as the federal government continued to look for ways to limit their immigration to America.
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Surname Saturday: Purchase
The Purchase surname originated as an occupational name, although it’s uncertain when the name began to be used as a surname and passed down to succeeding generations. According to New Dictionary of American Family Names, the name referred to “one who acted as a messenger or courier; a nickname for one who obtained the booty or gain; one who pursued another.”
House of Names indicates this surname is “a classic example of an English polygenetic surname, which is a surname that was developed in a number of different locations and adopted by various families independently. That is what I came across when researching this week’s Tombstone Tuesday article (read it here) on Philander Purchase.
The spelling variations encountered in my research for that article proved to be a bit overwhelming to trace (at least in the limited amount of time normally assigned to research for an article). Some of the known spelling variations of this surname include: Purchas, Purchass, Purches, Purchis, Purkiss, Purkess, Purkis, Purkeys, Purkys, Purkes … and I’m sure more. Possibly all related, but confusing for family researchers.
Aquila Purchase
One of the first people bearing this surname to make, or should I say attempt to make, the trek across the Atlantic to New England was Aquila Purchase. Aquila was born in 1589 to parents Oliver and Thomazine Purchase in Sommerset, England. In 1625 he was appointed as master of the Trinity School in Dorchester, a position he held until he departed for New England in 1632.
Aquila, his wife Ann and their children (it appears Ann was with child) left Weymouth, England, headed for Dorchester, Massachusetts. However, Aquila never made it to the shores of America. He died at sea but his family survived; his son John appears to have been born in 1633 after Ann arrived with her children.
Despite the fact that Aquila never lived in America, he still had an impact on its history. Interestingly, from his line came the thirteen President of the United States, Millard Fillmore:
Henry Squire (c1563-bef1649); Somersetshire, England, had a daughter:
Ann Squire (1591-1662), who married Aquila Purchase (c1588-c1633), in 1614, and had a daughter:
Abigail Purchase (1624-1675), who married Sampson Shore (c1615-c1679), in c1639, and had a son:
Jonathan Shore (1649-1724), who married Priscilla Hathorn (b. 1649), in 1669, and had daughter:
Phoebe Shore (1674-1717). who married Nehemiah Millard (1668-1751), in 1697, and had a son:
Robert Millard (1702-c1784), who married Hannah Eddy (c1704-1739), in 1726, and had a son:
Abiathar Millard (1744-c1811), who married Tabatha Hopkins (b. 1745), in 1761, and had a daughter:
Phoebe Millard (1780-1831), who married Nathaniel Fillmore, Jr. (1771-1863), in 1796, and had a son:
Millard Fillmore (1800-1874), 13th President of the United States.
Did you enjoy this article? Yes? Check out Digging History Magazine. Since January 2018 new articles are published in a digital magazine (PDF) available by individual issue purchase or subscription (with three options). Most issues run between 70-85 pages, filled with articles of interest to history-lovers and genealogists — it’s all history, right? 🙂 No ads — just carefully-researched, well-written stories, complete with footnotes and sources.
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