Tidbits of News Enrich Family History

#52 Ancestors Week 13 — In the Paper

Tidbits of News Enrich Family History 

 By Myra Vanderpool Gormley © 2019 

 It is the small things, rather than the major vital statistics we all pursue, that make a family history interesting to read. I find these rather trivial things in old newspapers — just ordinary news items of other times and places, but what depth and color they provide my genealogy. 

In the Arkansas Wheel, a newspaper I’d never heard of, was an article that settled once and for all (I hope) the dispute in my family as to whether my great-grandpa, William Carroll Vanderpool, was a Baptist or a Methodist preacher. There in that obscure paper, published at Jasper, Newton County, Arkansas, on 21 October 1886, was a lengthy article, headlined with “Minutes of the 7th Annual Meeting of the Buffalo Association of United Baptists held with Corrinth [sic] Church, Newton County, Arkansas. It is dated. Friday, 24 September 1886. 

From the article I learned great-grandpa Vanderpool, along with the

Rev. W.C. Vanderpool and wife, Mary E. Kelly

moderator and clerk, was to make out a bill of arrangement for to-morrow [sic]. They were to “have 100 copies of the association’s minutes printed, to superintend the job, and take care of the distribution of same.” 

 I always trusted my Dad and Aunt Inez (after all they knew their grandpa) regarding him being a Baptist preacher, but other cousins disagreed. Now, I have additional evidence.

In The Star Progress, of Berryville, Arkansas, a marriage announcement appeared on 25 Feb. 1916. It reported that Miss Alice Downs and Orb Vanderpool were married near Eureka Spring by the Rev. Mack Haggard. It also mentioned that her mother, Mrs. M. A. Downs, accompanied them and that the bridegroom was “clerking at Fair Store” and that he was the “son of well-to-parents who reside just across from Arkansas in Barry County, Missouri” where the young couple were going to reside. 

Orb is rather unusual name, which aided in me finding him in our large Vanderpool database. These one-name projects are fun because you get to work with so many cousins — near and distant. However, had his given name been John or William, I might still be looking. We have his given names as Orba Elmer, with a nickname of “O.E.” He was born 13 March 1893 in Carroll County, Arkansas and died in Barry County, Missouri in 1952. His bride’s full name turned out to be Martha Alice Downs, but apparently she went by her middle name. They had five known children. He was the son of James Bluford Vanderpool and Cordelia E. Jackson. 

In August of 1910, my granduncle, Brack Vanderpool, and another man were thrown from a wagon by a runaway team. Brack’s left arm was broken. This little news item appeared 29 August 1940 in The Indian Journal, published at Eufaula, Oklahoma. It ran under a heading of “Recalling Past Evens in Eufaula” — Items taken from the files of the Journal recalling events that transpired in years gone by — 1910. “Looking Backward” columns in local newspapers are among my favorites because it is easy to overlook something in the older newspapers which are often laid out somewhat helter-skelter. 

Brack’s full name was Russell Braxton, but he was always called “Brack.” He married Cora Kimbro on 17 October 1908. They had four daughters, three of whom lived to adulthood. He was the son of my Baptist preacher great-grandpa, William Carroll Vanderpool and Mary Kelly. Brack’s big brother, John, was my grandfather who married Cora Kimbro’s older half-plus sister, Mollie Kimbro. I refer to them as “half-plus sisters” because Cora and Mollie had the same father and their mothers were full sisters. As a result, the children of Brack and John are almost full double first cousins. 

My genealogy software goes bonkers trying to compute this.

12 Problems with a Pedigree

#52 Ancestors Week 12 — Prompt “12”

 12 Problems with a Pedigree 

By Myra Vanderpool Gormley © 2019 

 I sometimes shudder at the ease with which family trees can be slapped together. Some of them may be correct, but I am overly cautious — knowing how easy for any and all of us to make mistakes, misread documents, or analyze them incorrectly. Plus, I know how difficult (or impossible) it is to fix or correct an error once it has flitted off into the never-never-land of the Internet. 

Many years ago — 21 to be exact — I compiled a pedigree of William Henderson Shoemake (1824-1908), which was focused on his Cherokee heritage. He was the son of John A. “Jack” Shoemake and Elizabeth [—?—] whose maiden name I still have not discovered. 

Problem No. 1: Nicknames. 
In transcribing my notes taken from researching in the Cherokee Nation citizenship applications and cases (FHL films #1,022,106 and #1,492,835), I took a testimony reference to a John (called Balljack) Shoemake to be referring to the John Shoemake (1766-1852) — the lineage on which I was working. That was my error. Now, John Shoemake (1766-1852) had a STEPson named John A., who was called “Jack.” (1803-1854). The STEPson took the Shoemake name, but his biological father was “a white man named [—?—] Jones.” However, the nickname was just “Jack” (not Balljack) and it was a reference to the younger John A. Shoemake — the stepson. 

Problem No. 2. Sorting. 
Be sure to get your Johns (et al) straight, including nicknames, and don’t assume a younger man of the same name is the son of the older one or is the one being discussed. Don’t trust your computer software to do this for you. 

John Shoemake (1766-1852) married (Indian style) to Annie Thorn, date and place are unknown, but evidently it was sometime after 1803 (when John A. “Jack” was born to Annie Thorn) and before 30 May 1818 when John Shoemake (the elder) registered a claim for 640 acres “in the right of his wife” under the Treaty of 1817, which became Reservation #122 and was located in Jackson County, Alabama. John and Annie are shown in the 1830, 1840 censuses as "white", but in the 1850 census in Jackson County, Alabama, they are listed as “mulatto.” Ironically, her son, John A. Shoemake, is listed next to them with his family (and nothing is marked in color column). (1850 Jackson County, Alabama, District 19. Roll: M432_7; Page: 50A; Image: 110.) 

Problem No. 3. Misreading of documents. 
Several have misread the following document and compiled genealogies that mix up the two different lines and some have informed me of “my” error, and posted same online, because they did not read carefully. The information taken from the Cherokee citizenship court about William H. Shoemake and his brother, John W. Shoemake in 1882 should be read carefully. Example: 

"My name is John V. Alberty, my age is about 48 years, I am a Cherokee, and reside in the Cherokee Nation, Going Snake District. According to the statements in the petition, I don't know anything about the claimants. I did know a family of Shoemakes. There was a man named Jim Shoemake. His brother was Tom Shoemake. Jim Shoemake married a woman by the name of Oxendine. They lived on the line there near Dutch Town, Washington County, Arkansas. They lived there till about the year '58 or '59. They then went from there to California or Arizona. I have not seen them since." 

Note that Alberty says he does not know anything about the claimants (the claimants were W. H. Shoemake and John W. Shoemake); then he goes on to say that he did know of a family of Shoemakes in Arkansas (Jim and Tom) and that they went to California or Arizona. That is semi-correct — at least about Jim Shoemake’s family) but these Shoemakes and mine are not related to each other in any way that I have been able to determine after many years of research. Having the same surname, as genealogists are aware, is not proof of any kinship, and even using the same spelling is not proof of a relationship. 

The claimants in this Cherokee citizenship case were the sons of a John A. (called Jack) Shoemake, who took the surname of his STEPFATHER, John Shoemake, a mulatto, who was born in 1766 in South Carolina. They are Cherokee — not via a Shoemake line but via their grandmother, Anna [nee Thorn] who was 1/2 blood. John A.’s biological father was a white man whose surname is said to be JONES. 

The James Shoemake who lived in Washington County, Arkansas at the time of the 1850 census claimed to have been born in South Carolina; had a (presumed) wife named Susan [—?—]; and five children, ranging in ages 3 to 11 born in Tennessee, Kentucky and Arkansas. This family went to California by 1860 where they are enumerated in Stanislaus County and can be followed through various California censuses, Great Registers and other records. 

Problem No. 4. Beware of others of the same name who might be confused with your person with the resultant entangled trees that might be compiled and posted/published. There are few, if any, perfect pedigrees, and we all can mistakes. 

When John and Annie Shoemake were “dispossessed” of their Reservation #122 in 1846/47, because of a case brought by some claimants in the Cherokee Nation (Oklahoma) the U.S. government commission which made the decision provided the genealogy of Cah-tah-la-tah, a full-blood Cherokee, the purported wife of a John Shoemake, which included the name of their purported child, Nee-ku-ti-hee, who was the mother of six children: Susan, Lizzy, Isle-hoo-wee, Oo-tah-the-kees-ky, Arly, and Sa-wat-chee. The claim was that someone of the same name (John Shoemake) had also been married to another Cherokee by whom he had had a daughter. However, this claim, which turned out to be fraudulent, said the John Shoemake who had a Cherokee wife named Cah-tah-la-tah, was a white man. The John Shoemake of Reservation #122 was mulatto. 

Problem Nos. 5 through 11. Relying on unsubstantiated genealogy, even if the U.S. government created it, is always filled with risks. 

I have unlinked Cah-tah-la-tah as a wife of my John Shoemake, as there is no proof that he ever had any wife other than Annie Thorn. This also unlinks the purported daughter, Nee-ku-ti-hee and her six children (listed above). While initially there were numerous questions about the Reservation #122, the dispossession, and later the return of it to John and Annie and her heirs, the genealogical information the government provided appeared rather straight forward, and at the time there was no way to check or verify the government’s source of the information, which apparently came from the claimants or their lawyer. It is only later after reexamination of the differences of the two men named John Shoemake, when and where they lived, and the most important fact that the original claim proved to be false, that makes me suspect that the genealogical material is inaccurate also. A fraudulent claim to property which was valued at $7,680 in 1847 — that’s about $231,000 in today’s value more or less — raises serious doubt as to the accuracies of the genealogy provided by these claimants. 

Problem No. 12. Go back and re-read all legal documents. You might have overlooked something. 
That is what happened in this case — I was so focused on the genealogy that I overlooked an important date. John Shoemake and Annie claimed their reservation under the Treaty of 1817 and 1819 and the lawsuit brought in 1846 pertaining to land under the Treaty of 1835. 

“The view of this office in the matter resting upon the showing in the papers herewith is that the land claimed and surveyed for Shumake [sic] under the Treaty of 1817 and 1819 is not the identical land for which an award was made under the Treaty of 1835 to certain alleged heirs.” (Letter dated 12 February 1856 by Thomas A. Hendricks, Commissioner, to Honorable Robert McClelland, Secretary of the Interior. General Land Office, National Archives, Washington, DC, Record Group 49, Indian Reservee Files Correspondence — Indians (Cherokee), John Shoemake claim). 

Based on a rough evaluation of the property’s worth and divided by the six heirs in the claim, the amount each might have received would have been about $38,500. Of course, I’m sure the lawyer(s) were paid out of it, but that is a significant sum of money to have had in the Cherokee Nation, Indian Territory in the late 1840s. I wonder if the heirs actually received any money, and if so, did the U.S. government make them pay it back because of the fraudulent claim? 

So many questions, so little time, and that’s why it is almost impossible to “complete” a pedigree, let alone have a perfect one. 

Unknown Cousins by the Dozens

#52ancestors 2019-03-11
—Week 11 — Large Family

Unknown Cousins by the Dozens 

By Myra Vanderpool Gormley © 2019 

One of the largest families in my Vanderpool database has no surname — it is simply listed as [—?—], meaning the surname is unknown. Well, that’s not 100% accurate, because Vanderpool is by far the largest family in the database, but I do have a number of people for whom a surname has not been found. There are way too many Johnsons and Jones in my tree, too, but all-in-all I’m lucky to have many less-common surnames. Of course, there are the numerous “Van—” and “Vander—” names — thanks to my New Netherland Dutch heritage.

 I was not surprised to discover that I have many Mary [—?—] and this includes the Mary Anns, Mary Elizabeths, Mary J., Mary “Polly,” et al ladies. More than 80 of them as I quickly can determine. Next most popular given name is Elizabeth (without a known surname) and all its variants including Eliza, Lizzie, and Betsy. Then comes Sarah/Sara, Nancy, Margaret and Lucy. 

As an unofficial rule in my pedigree it appears my Williams usually married Marys and my Johns married Elizabeths. Some of them even married two Marys and two Elizabeths — not at the same time — but I’m sure they did it just to confuse me. 

Of course, not everyone in my Vanderpool database is an ancestor, in-law, or even blood-related to me. Many are remotely connected and for which I’m grateful that my genealogy software can usually figure out our relationship, if there is one. What fun to learn someone is your 5C3R (fifth cousins three times removed). That’s one reward for working with these one-name databases. I think it is going to help with the DNA connections, too. 

I love my “unknowns” — they challenge me to do more research and see if I can discover their full names and who they are and how they connect. Naturally, there are some days when I wish I had a smaller family of [—?—], [—?—] and [—?—], Marys, or Elizabeths, or Marthas, hanging on the tree. 

 But I keep plugging along enjoying each new find, each new fact, and fresh evidence, because I’ve never known anyone who has completed their family tree and I now understand why.

The Goat and the Old Bachelor

#52ancestors Week 10 (March4-10) 
Prompt: Bachelor Uncle 

The Goat and the Old Bachelor 

By Myra Vanderpool Gormley © 2019 

Forever intertwined in my childhood memory is a goat and an old man — my grandpa’s best friend (the old man, that is). While not an uncle, he was a bachelor, and almost family. 

The goat was called Billy, but the man was called “Bill” or W. C. by adults. However, he was always known to me as “Mr. Carter.” His given names were William Charles, which was the reverse of my Papa’s names — a subject they talked about frequently and found amusing. One of them being W. C. and the other C. W. 

Mr. Carter drove an old banged-up panel truck with lots of dents on the outside and in the inside, well, Billy rode it in often and he nibbled at the interior — eating anything he could put in his mouth. He also left his special odor everywhere. 

Mr. Carter and Billy the Goat lived down the road a piece from my Papa’s Oklahoma farm. The goat went with him about everywhere. So did Papa and me. We were a dynamic and unlikely quartet of two old farmers, a little girl, and a goat. 

We often toured the “bottom lands” — a fertile commercial farm area of what was then Griffin Grocery Company, north of Muskogee, Oklahoma. There the soil was rich from the many spring-time floods of the Arkansas River. Those old farmers, with my assistance, would check out the corn, alfalfa, watermelons, peanuts, soybeans, and cotton — then on to the stockyards we’d go on a fairly frequent schedule in the spring and summertime. 

Mr. Carter, crippled up badly with arthritis, could barely walk, and relied on his wooden cane as he tottered and shuffled about. He had lost two middle fingers on his right hand in a farming accident years ago. I found that fascinating and asked him many questions about the accident, and about when he had come to Indian Territory and why he had stayed (talk about a born nosey journalist).

He and Papa were twin figures, born the same year — Papa in Georgia and Mr. Carter in Iowa. They were both big men always dressed in the Oklahoma uniform — faded blue overalls. I listened to their conversations about the “good old days,” the war, those rotten Communists, politics — local and national — and the high cost of living, and always, about the weather, and how the crops and livestock were doing. 

Mr. Carter had no wife and no family — at least none I ever knew about. I always invited him to our family get-togethers, especially Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter feasts, and later to my country school activities including its annual pie supper and a Christmas program. He always came and seemed pleased to be included. One year at Christmastime he brought me a package of dates. I thought they were the best treat ever — so sweet and gooey. He smiled at my delight in them. 

He and I also shared a great love for my grandmother’s vinegar pies and bread-and-butter pickles. We were sure that she could win the blue ribbon at the Oklahoma State Fair for anything she cooked. When I was about six years old, he subscribed to Jack and Jill magazine for me as a birthday present. I was in heaven. It arrived in the mailbox monthly or bimonthly — I have forgotten which, packed with stories, poems and artwork. A couple of years later he gifted me with my first desk, and then he bestowed a most precious present on me when I was nine — his mother’s piano. On it I learned to play, and it became my most treasured possession. 

Years later, when I was in Germany working for Stars & Stripes newspaper I sent Mr. Carter a Christmas card (something I had always done — my mother taught her children good manners) but that year, for some reason, I also included a long letter telling him about my budding career, travel adventures in Europe, and how much his gifts and friendship had meant to me. I’m so glad I did. Mother reported back later that the old gentleman just beamed when he told her about receiving my letter and card. 

My grandparents were both gone by then and I was aware that I would not have my special friend forever and that he might not be there by the time I returned from Europe. So, in my letter that year I had reminisced about the good times with him, Billy the Goat, and my Papa. And what memories they were — including the time Mr. Carter and Papa got lost at the stockyards and I had to go to the office and turn them in, then wait for someone to go find those old farmers so we could get home in time for supper. You didn’t want to make my grandmother angry by being late. 

It was a tough job looking after those two old men — and Billy the Goat was of no help.