Newly Digitized Newspaper Identifies Unknown Photograph

Lucinda Dornon, my fourth great-aunt, has been a remarkable character and the subject of a handful of this blog's attention-grabbing headlines.

Lost Lucinda: Like Father Like Daughter
First, there was the hope that she, along with her siblings, could help me determine what happened to her father - my fourth great-grandfather Burr Zelah Dornon, whose death and disappearance from the record trail was sudden and shrouded in mystery during the height of the American Civil War. She suffered terrible tragedy. Her first husband, Sylvester Scannel, was killed in 1893 in a terrible prairie fire. Following her early widowhood, Lucinda married Levi Stanley in 1899, moved to Oklahoma, and then disappeared - like her father - from the records. 

Probate Record Lays Breadcrumb Trail
A 1916 Oklahoma guardianship case for Lucinda's second husband Levi Stanley filed by "Committee of Friends Church Cherokee" told the court that he "lives alone, and is old and bed-fast, and has no one to care for him." There was no mention of Lucinda, which made me wonder if she pre-deceased Levi.

Examined and Judged Insane
Several newspaper clippings from 1904, shone a light on the mysterious Lucinda. The articles detailed Levi and Lucinda's trip from Oklahoma to visit her sisters in Plainville, Kansas. While in Plainville, a probate judge, jurors, and physician "examined and judged Mrs. Stanley insane." She was sent to an asylum in Topeka for treatment where she died within days of her arrival. 

Lucinda's Bout of Insanity Topples A Family Mystery
Lucinda's asylum patient file unexpectedly held the key to determining the circumstances of her father's death. According to her admission form, her father died of dropsy at the age of 45 - apparently not a victim of the Civil War as I initially speculated.

An Unknown Photograph
In late 2015, I wrote a blog featuring five unlabeled photographs that I was certain featured my family. However, without an inscription to identify the portraits' subjects, I was at a loss and they remained mysteries lost to time.

Number five was a portrait of a woman in a Salvation Army uniform, with the typical 'S' on each lapel of her collar, meaning "Saved to Serve." The photograph was taken at East End Gallery in Decatur, Illinois.

There was a strong resemblance - particularly in the eyes - to other identified Dornon sisters. Lucinda did live in Decatur for some time following the death of her husband Sylvester. However, her older sister Mary (Dornon) Vandegraft also lived in the state.

Naturally, I wondered if the photograph was of Lucinda, but I had never heard any mention of membership in the Salvation Army.

At least not until another Kansas newspaper was recently digitized.

Digitized Paper Reveals Answers
The Stockton Review and Rooks County Record was recently scanned and made available online. A search of the surname Scannel returned the following hit for June 28, 1895.

Stockton Review and Rooks County Record, Stockton, Kansas, June 28, 1895

The newspaper confirmed that Lucinda was a member of the Salvation Army.

A Note Between Sisters
Although there's no name or signature to identity the pictured individual, the back of the photograph does have a handwritten note suggesting that it was sent from one sister to another.

The name Ernest, written in another hand at the top of the photo, is of my second great-grandfather who owned the photo album. I believe it was added by another person, likely to indicate it belonged to his photograph collection.

The note reads, "Sister dear let me know if you got this chromo all rite [sic.] or not. This is an answer to your letter. Write all the news and write soon. When I hear from A.C. I will send him one not like this. I have news for you when..." The note is obscured by a tear to the back of the photograph.

Turning the photograph 90 degrees to the right, the writing continues, "The sooner you ably answer this the sooner you will get the news. You will both be glad to hear it, I am quite shure [sic.]."

The note, addressed "Sister dear" clearly links the pictured individual as a sibling to the recipient. Now would be a good time to note that the photo was in the collection of Ernest Benedick whose mother was Anna (Dornon) Benedick, Lucinda's sister.

Based on the evidence in the photograph, the newspaper blurb, and the handwritten note, I believe the image is of Lucinda (Dornon) Scannel Stanley - a woman who suffered much in her life, but who did  help answer the question of her father's mysterious death.

There's no better feeling than identifying an unlabeled photograph with the help of a newly digitized newspaper! I'm glad to finally have a face to put with her storied name.

Lucinda's Bout of Insanity Topples A Family Mystery

In late summer 1904, Levi Stanely escorted his ailing wife from their home in Oklahoma to Plainville, Kansas where two of her sisters lived and could provide her with care.

Lucinda (Dornon) Stanley's mental health was failing. A probate judge, doctor, and jurors examined and declared Lucinda mentally incapacitated and made arrangements for her immediate treatment at the Kansas State Insane Asylum in Topeka.

Over the course of several short weeks, her health declined precipitously. Just one week after being admitted to the hospital, Lucinda was dead (see Examined and Judged Insane).

Medical Files Document Decline
The Kansas Historical Society holds microfilmed copies of medical records from the Topeka State Hospital (the later name of the State Insane Asylum). Privacy restrictions prohibit anyone reviewing her medical diagnosis, but four pages from her file survive and are now public record.

Regrettably, the original medical records were destroyed, so the grainy microfilmed copies must be relied on to detail Lucinda's harrowing final days.

On September 1, 1904, Rooks County Probate Judge Hill wrote to the State Insane Asylum to inform them of Lucinda's fragile condition, and petition for her treatment at the facility as a ward of the state despite her Oklahoma residence.

Rooks County, Kansas Probate Judge Hill's letter to Insane Asylum - September 1, 1904

Probate Judge Hill wrote:

"Dear Sir
Replying to yours of 31st in regard to Lucinda Stanley will say that she lived here for 22 years, four years ago she moved with her husband to Oklahoma. About 9 months ago she was taken ill with rheumatism and kidney trouble as her husband says the Dr's had told him but kept up and going most of the time thinking she might be better if they sold out and and came here where 2 of her brothers live and has grown rapidly worse since they got here which is about [illegible] weeks. She sits up most of the time through the day but now has to have help when she walks and it is getting difficult for her to talk. Her husband is 72 years old and his means are limited. Has about $300. It would seem impossible to remove her to Oklahoma in her present condition. Possibly Kansas might collect from Oklahoma for her keep. You will know as to that. If she is admitted her husband will take her down.
Hoping you may see your way clear to receive her at Topeka. I am as ever yours. Truly, J.P. Hill"

The second record is a questionnaire requiring 25 responses regarding the patient's background and condition.

Insane Asylum Patient Questionnaire

There are genealogically relevant responses. For example, the questionnaire confirmed Lucinda's age was 50 (indicating her birth year was about 1854) and that she was born in Monroe County, Ohio.

The questionnaire points to a continuing mystery. It confirmed that she was married, but stated that she "has no children never had". Previously it was believed that she had a daughter Ella with her first husband Sylvester Scannel, both of whom pre-deceased her. This requires further investigation.

The questionnaire also addresses her current medical condition. Her first symptoms included "forgetfulness, pain, numbness...skipping of words in talking..." and she "has been gradually growing worse for 9 months". Lucinda's health before this attack of insanity was considered "fair". This was the first time she had been admitted to an asylum for insane.

Medical History Reveals Family History
The third record is a patient enrollment form. It's a sweeping collection of information on her background and current medical affliction.

Insane Asylum Patient Record

The record notes:

"Admitted September 17, 1904. Native of: Ohio. Age: 50. Class: State. Marital Condition: Married. Children: none. Occupation: housewife. Relatives insane: Family history negative [illegible]. Temperate: yes."

And it continues on for more than a dozen questions.

But, in an unanticipated surprise, the form provided information on Lucinda's family history. 

"Health and Habits of Parents: Father died of dropsy aged 45. Mother died of consumption at the age of 57. Both of good habit."

Excerpt of insane asylum patient record

Lucinda's parents, Burr Zelah and Sophronia (Rogers) Dornon, were my fourth great-grandparents. I have been researching Burr Zelah for years, trying to learn about the circumstances of his death during the height of the Civil War. I was primarily researching Lucinda - an aunt and not my direct ancestor - in the hope that I would uncover documentation about the circumstances regarding Burr's untimely death.

I was so fully engrossed in Lucinda's unfolding medical emergency that it took me a minute to grasp that I had just glanced over the cause of both Burr and Sophronia's deaths.

Apparently, Burr wasn't killed in battle or as a result of conflict with invading Confederate soldiers (as I speculated). His cause of death - dropsy - is an old medical term that, according to Access Genealogy, is "an abnormal collection of fluid in the tissues and cavities of the body; edema (swelling), often caused by kidney or heart disease."

In an instant I was handed information that I had long hoped would surface. While questions remain about the circumstances that led to his early passing from dropsy, it's gratifying to have something - anything - acknowledging his death.

It's a lesson for genealogists that exhaustive research, following collateral lines, can and does provide answers.

The Drama At Hand

The final record in Lucinda's medical file is a handwritten summary of her condition documented on two days.

Lucinda Stanley's medical condition summary

On September 18, 1904, a physical examination was conducted. It found that her head "was rigid...there was the unusual mumbling and groaning and the characteristic grinding of the teeth..."

On September 24, 1904, her heath deteriorated. The notes flagged a "progressive elevation of the temperature... ranging from 99 degrees to 105 degrees F. She worsens declined rapidly during this A.M."

A final terse note also dated September 24, 1904, concluded: "Died Paresis and Complications." 

That was Lucinda's swift end - a lapse into insanity silenced by muscle weakness and associated complications.

Collateral Research Yields Answers
From her tormented final days, Lucinda left a medical history that addressed the circumstances of her father's untimely passing. For me, this was genealogy gold.

But it's difficult to shake Lucinda's legacy. An unknown and largely forgotten member of the Dornon family, I can't help wondering if she was a secreted away memory only ever discussed in hushed whispers. Was the family afraid of how her final illness would be perceived? Generations later - without any surviving descendants of her own - she was largely forgotten.

It seems only fitting that her life's story would hold part of the long-sought-after answer to her father's passing.

Examined And Judged Insane

Three years ago, I wrote about my fourth great-aunt Lucinda Dornon and her disappearance from the record trail (see Lost Lucinda: Like Father Like Daughter).

A lot can happen in three years. Newly digitized newspaper collections and improved Optical Character Recognition (OCR) have shed more light on Lucinda's tragic story.

A Fiery End
Lucinda was the youngest child of my fourth great-grandparents Burr Zelah and Sophronia (Rogers) Dornon. I've been researching Burr Zelah for years, trying to learn about the circumstances of his death during the height of the Civil War. Part of that investigation included an examination of each of his children. Perhaps records they created held answers to his final days.

Lucinda was born in Ohio in August 1854 and lost her father before she was ten. With her mother and siblings, she moved to Wyandotte, Kansas, where she married Sylvester Scannel in March 1870.

In 1871, they had a daughter named Ella. Ella appeared in the 1880 Federal Census with her parents and again in the 1885 Kansas state census. But then she disappeared. Did she marry or pass away?

In March 1893, Sylvester was killed in a prairie fire that swept across the farmlands near their home in Palco, Kansas. A local newspaper, The Plainville Times, shared a horrific account:

"...Mr. Scannel was overcome with smoke and heat and fell to the ground. Mr. Lilly dismounted and tried to assist him, but it was too late. The flames came down upon them before they could escape. Mr. Scannel's clothing, except his boots and gloves, was burned entirely off his body, while Mr. Lilly's clothing was nearly all consumed. Both lay upon the ground for nearly three hours, and no one coming to their assistance, they managed to walk by clinging to each other a mile to Mr. Scannel's home, arriving there at 8 o'clock. Mr. Scannel lingered until the morning following, when death relieved him from his terrible suffering. He was conscious to the last and directed all his home affairs before his death."

Eighteen years after the fire, The Plainville Times recounted the events of that day and included mention of Scannel's funeral, noting that, "Mr. Scannel had lived in Rooks county for 15 years and was a good neighbor and citizen, and a kind father."

That's the last reference to Ella Scannel to have surfaced to-date.

Starting Over
Lucinda's life in those years after Sylvester's death must have been difficult. The week after her husband's death, she published a notice in the newspaper advertising that she was auctioning off livestock, likely in dire need of money.

The paper's society pages briefly noted a visit to Eaton, Colorado in June, and an extended trip to her sister's in Illinois in October.

In June 1899, it seemed that she was finally starting a new chapter of her life when she married Levi Stanley in Gove County, Kansas. The Stanleys settled in Woods County, Oklahoma where they were enumerated in the 1900 census.

For three years, this is where Lucinda's story abruptly stopped. It was unclear what happened to her until now.

Tragedy Returns
Over the course of four short newspaper blurbs, Lucinda's tragic fate was revealed.

On August 25, 1904, The Plainville Gazette announced her arrival in Kansas to visit family for "sometime":

A week later, on September 1, 1904, the seemingly innocuous family visit took a dramatic turn with The Plainville Gazette reporting that Lucinda had been examined and judged insane:

Two weeks later, on September 17, 1904, a Salina, Kansas newspaper reported that Lucinda was taken from Plainville to Topeka's asylum for treatment after her "mind was turned by the suffering caused by Bright's disease."

In its September 29, 1904 edition, The Plainville Gazette reported that Lucinda had died exactly one week after traveling to Topeka.

No mention was made of a surviving daughter, suggesting that Ella had pre-deceased her mother. A final inferred tragedy.

Lucinda was laid to rest in the cemetery near Palco where her first husband, Sylvester Scannel, was buried. A stone pillar rises from the parched land to mark his grave.

Lucinda's name was never added to the headstone giving no indication of her final resting place. Her life of tragedy was lost to time but is now remembered and honored.

Probate Record Lays Breadcrumb Trail

In December 2014, my research into Burr Zelah Dornon's death expanded to include all of his children. Perhaps the collateral ancestors would shed light on his passing and burial.

As I snooped into Burr's descendants, I discovered that his daughter Lucinda copied a page out of his book and also disappeared from history (see Lost Lucinda: Like Father Like Daughter).

The last year of Lucinda's documented life unfolds as follows:

• She marries Levi A. Stanley on June 11, 1899 in Gove County, Kansas. This was Lucinda's second marriage following the death of her first husband Sylvester Scannel in a Kansas prairie fire in March 1893.
• On November 24, 1899, she and husband Levi make the society pages of the local newspaper in Plainville, Kansas. The gossipy piece tells us that the Stanleys are in town from Oklahoma visiting Levi's daughter from a previous marriage.
• On February 9, 1900, they appear again in the society pages of the Plainville newspaper. Mr. Stanley's daughter hosts them for dinner before Levi and Lucinda return to their home in Oklahoma. 

• On June 12, 1900, the Stanleys are enumerated in Stella Township, Woods County, Oklahoma Territory. 

1900 U.S. Federal Census: Woods County, Oklahoma

After this census, I couldn't find records for Levi or Lucinda. At least not until Ancestry.com released probate records this week for Oklahoma.

Probate Record Provides Hint

A search for the Stanley surname turned up a series of documents for Levi in neighboring Alfalfa County. On December 14, 1916, a guardianship case was brought before the county judge by a group calling themselves the "Committee of Friends Church Cherokee." 

In their guardianship filing, they make the case that Levi Stanley is not physically able to care for himself.

"Levi Stanley lives alone, and is old and bed-fast, and has no one to care for him. That owing to his physical condition he is unable to care for himself or to manage his business." 

The guardianship case quickly fizzles and gives way to probate proceedings when Levi Stanley dies two days later on December 16, 1916.

Throughout his lengthy probate record, I saw no mention of Lucinda. Did she pre-decease him?

Documents from Levi's probate file hint at where he was buried, and may also provide clues to Lucinda's final whereabouts. In the settling of Levi's estate two invoices are submitted for payment including a bill for his grave and burial ($21), and his casket and funeral expenses ($122.50).

Invoices for Levi Stanley's Grave, Burial and Casket, Funeral

The final reconciliation of his estate's expenses includes a $21 line item to M.W.A. Cemetery. What was M.W.A.? 

There was no obvious match in my precursory review of Alfalfa County cemeteries. A quick Google search turned up a RootsWeb message board where one user identified the cemetery as the Modern Woodmen of America Cemetery. Another user indicated that the cemetery's name was changed to Cherokee Municipal Cemetery.

$21 Payment to M.W.A Cemetery

Cherokee Municipal Cemetery is on FindAGrave, but there was no existing memorial page for Levi Stanley. Perhaps there was no page because Levi's grave is unmarked. The probate file's many invoices never indicated that a headstone was purchased. 

Regardless, the probate records suggest that Levi Stanley was buried in the cemetery. I've created a FindAGrave page to mark his likely burial location.

If Lucinda did in fact pre-decease Levi, can I infer that he was buried beside his wife? That's my working theory thanks to the breadcrumb trail left by Levi's probate record.

My next step is to reach out to Alfalfa County to see if there are existent cemetery records that confirm Lucinda's burial. To be continued.

No Brick Walls in Google's Library

I've been away from the blog and genealogy this past month while traveling in India for work. It was, in a word, incredible. It's a country of extremes: beauty, color, poverty, heat, generosity.

Taj Mahal (photo by author)

I'm now home in the U.S. and ready to tackle my family history research. Yesterday, I made up for lost time and very nearly pulled an all-nighter as I dived back in with a vengeance. Like India, my genealogy motto is one of extremes: research hard or don't!

Researching Offline

I spent the afternoon at the Daughters of the American Revolution library trawling through dusty old volumes detailing Licking County, Ohio marriages, tax lists, probates, and land records. I wanted to see if I could learn more about my Kirk ancestors. Surely one of the many bound volumes held the clue I desperately needed to advance my research. 

It occurred to me, as I quietly turned page after page in each hulking antique tome praying for the author to name drop my ancestor, that it would take me months of sitting quietly in the reading room to finish just one of the books. 

They're reference materials. They can't be checked out. You can't read them carefully in the comfort of your home. If the book doesn't include a name index (as many of these older volumes don't), you just have to sit and read (and pray you don't overlook the name you're after). What I wouldn't give for these books to be online and keyword searchable.

Library of Tomorrow is Today

Back at home, reflecting on my lack of success at DAR's library, it occurred to me that maybe some of these older volumes had been digitized and were keyword searchable. Could I pull up the book and search (CTRL + F) for my family's surname? I Google searched a volume title and was directed to Google's Book database. 

Now, I have to admit that I knew this database existed. I've sat in conference sessions where genealogy tech guru Lisa Louise Cooke touted the value of Google technology, including Google Books. Regrettably, I always assumed that my ancestors didn't have sufficient notoriety to merit publication in a book. I never searched. Huge mistake! 

I dropped in the county name and Google turned up some of the enormous Licking County histories I was paging through at DAR. In a matter of seconds I was able to word search the volume and confirm my surname was not mentioned. Boom! Done! On to the next volume. Genealogy is time intensive. We don't have time to waste on resources that don't advance our family trees. We need to take advantage of tools like Google Books that make our research more effective and efficient.

Google Books Offers a Rapunzel-esque Climb Over a Brick Wall

I excitedly began searching a handful of surnames. Followers of the blog know I've been trying to learn more about Burr Zelah Dornon and his family. A search of his surname turned up a tantalizing clue. 

My 4th great-grandparents were highlighted in what appeared to be a list of descendants. Before this list appeared on my screen, Sophronia (Rogers) Dornon was a brick wall. I had no idea who her parents were (although family lore said her mother's maiden name was Gould).

Unfortunately, I was only able to see this small snippet of text. The book, as is the case with some volumes, was not available to be read online in its entirety through Google Books.

Unwilling to slow for this roadblock, I plugged the publication's title into a standard Google search and found a link to FamilySearch's library. Of course, the Mecca of genealogy had a copy in their holdings.

In a sign that the stars truly were aligned last night, the volume was available to access and read in its entirety through FamilySearch. In the comfort of my own home!

The text did in fact provide Sophronia's purported parents' names: Francis and Abigail (Gould) Rogers. It even provided both of their parents' names. In one evening, thanks to Google Books, I uncovered possible new sets of 5th and 6th great-grandparents. You try and go to sleep after that kind of success!

To help corroborate the information, I turned to Ohio probate records on FamilySearch and found Francis Rogers' 1843 will in Hardin County. In it, he doles out his assets to his family, including daughter Sophronia.

Sophronia inherits $75 from her father in his September 1843 will

A search for Abigail revealed that she not only survived her husband by nearly four decades, but she also survived daughter Sophronia. Find A Grave has a burial for Abigail in Iowa where she evidently lived with one of her sons.

Collectively, there remains a lot of work to document and substantiate these new leads, but in one fell swoop Google Books gave me a leg up that enabled me to peak beyond the brick wall. Perhaps this one will come tumbling down.

Researching the Facts

I made my first research trip to the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR) Library. The cold windy weather absolved me of any guilt for holing up indoors on a Saturday.

The library is loaded with volumes dedicated to the genealogical history of counties across the United States. Happily, the entire collection is free to peruse after the library recently eliminated the research fees they used to charge.

Burial Surveys
I hoped to find published copies of cemetery surveys for Lawrence County, Ohio, so I could determine whether Burr Dornon was among the enumerated burials. I pulled each book for Lawrence County off the shelf and carefully thumbed through every single page, purposely not relying on the indices in case something had been overlooked.

Despite my methodical review, there was no listing for Burr. However, none of the published surveys in DAR's collection were older than the 1980s.

According to the FindAGrave.com overview of Scottown Cemetery (where it's speculated a stone for Burr may have once existed), there were two surveys conducted some 50 years apart. Those two surveys were found to have discrepancies between them.

Where is the initial survey that was conducted 50 years earlier (c. 1930s)? I want to get my hands on that one!

Having exhausted the library's resources on Lawrence County, I next pulled the volumes on burials in Jackson County, West Virginia, which is located just across the Ohio River from Lawrence County. Burr's family lived in Jackson County in 1860 up until the Confederates briefly invaded in September 1862.

Again, no luck. There was no mention of a burial for Burr anywhere. I decided to set the question of his death and burial aside for the afternoon.

Exact Birth and Marriage Dates: A Task List
With easy access to all of the library's indices on births and marriages, it occurred to me that I should see if I could find other missing records for the Dornons.

I'm embarrassed to admit it, but my family tree has exact dates for several Dornon family life events with absolutely no sources to provide confirmation. These dates came from relatives - now deceased - who began work on our genealogy years ago. Sadly, they weren't the best documented trees. I took them as starting points, but have yet to locate evidence that corroborates the facts.

Among the exact dates without documentation are:

• Burr Z. Dornon birth: November 15, 1812
• Burr Z. Dornon marriage to Sophronia Rogers: March 5, 1835
• Sophronia (Rogers) Dornon birth: May 22, 1815 (may be calculated based on the age on her headstone)

These dates are so specific they had to have come from a record, right? I just need another trip to the DAR library.

Also, since I'm sketching my to-do list, where are the Dornons in these records:

• Burr and his father Andrew in the 1820 and 1830 censuses
• Sophronia (Rogers) Dornon in the 1870 census

There's never a shortage of questions to research. More to come...

John Benedick At Rest

I'm laser-focused on finding my 4th great-grandfather Burr Zelah Dornon's grave. I believe he rests eternally in a cemetery somewhere in Lawrence County, Ohio or across the river in Jackson County, West Virginia.

I've been so focused on that search, though, that I've neglected another 4th great-grandfather, John Benedick, who's closely linked to Burr.

According to the U.S. Federal Census, John was a stone cutter in 1850 and a farmer in 1860. We also know he was an active supporter of the Whig Party's presidential candidate in 1840.

Celebrating her 90th birthday in 1899, John's widow Mary Ann (Miser) Benedick reflected on "the years of her young womanhood when history was being made so rapidly during the middle of the century."

She recounted for the local newspaper how she and her husband helped host a dinner in their Harrison County, Ohio orchard for General William Henry Harrison during his campaign for president (Tippecanoe and Tyler Too).

Unlike Burr, I know where John is buried  His grave was documented in a survey of Miller Cemetery burials in Lawrence County. Curiously, John died in May 1863, which is very near to the time frame I speculate that Burr died.

But that's not all they share in common. Two of Burr's daughters married two of John's sons, including my 3rd great-grandparents Albert and Anna (Dornon) Benedick.

These links made me eager to see a photograph of John's headstone. I submitted a request several years ago through FindAGrave.com. Unfortunately, the request was never taken up. Until this week.

Carl Murdock, an administrator for the Lawrence Register - a Facebook group dedicated to Lawrence County genealogy - trawled through Miller Cemetery and found the weathered headstone. After more than 150 years, the stone is still upright.

John Benedick's stone pictured center. Photo by Carl Murdock. Used by permission.

Time has taken its toll on the memorial; it could use a gentle cleaning. The inscription is worn and hidden behind rust-colored lichen, but the name is still visible. The hand pointing heavenward still attests to his faith.

John Benedick. Photo by Carl Murdock. Used by permission.

The existence of John's headstone, after all these years, is encouraging. Perhaps Burr's stone may still be out there waiting to be rediscovered. My search continues, but, in the meantime, I honor an ancestor at rest and am thankful that his marker still has its place.

Where's the Family Lore?

Where's the family lore surrounding Burr Zelah Dornon?

I've been asking myself that question lately as I continue to investigate when and where my 4th great-grandfather died and was buried (Feeling out of the loop? Get caught up: Poor Guilty Creatures and Narrowing Burr's Window of Death).

Families tell and retell stories about their ancestors. Over time, a story may take on a life of its own as facts are embellished. Despite the distortion, at least there's a story to share. Skeptical genealogists can always do the dirty work of looking for kernels of truth that advance evidence-based research.

When it comes to Burr, though, there's not much narrative for us to pick apart. That surprises me. With nine children, you would think that bits and pieces would have traveled through the years.

Sadly, as FamilySearch notes, it only takes three generations for oral family history to disappear. It seems that Burr has suffered this fate.

Mindful of this reality, the incessant digging into Burr's past (along with the fantastic help of a handful of Dornon cousins) is cobbling together a narrative; restoring his history.

Buried on the Hill?
Speaking of Dornon cousins, I've connected with several of Burr's descendants on The Lawrence Register, a Facebook group dedicated to Lawrence County, Ohio genealogy.

Scottown Cemetery. Photo by Henry Dillon & used by permission

One cousin mentioned that a great-grandson of Burr - still living - thinks he recalls seeing a tombstone for Burr on a hill in Scottown Cemetery in Lawrence County. Unfortunately, many of the headstones have disappeared or were destroyed over the years.

We're trying to locate an early survey for the cemetery to see if a turn-of-the-20th-century census of burials includes Burr.

Another cousin is doubtful. He's been visiting the cemetery since 1969 and never recalled seeing a marker for our man in question. However, his caveat was that there were a few markers that were no longer legible because they were so worn and weathered.

Nine Lives: Burr's Immediate Family
What about Burr and his wife Sophronia's nine children? What do we know about that cast of characters? Who among them had and passed on the family lore? We have some descendancy mapping to do.

Albert Dornon: In June 1863, two of Burr's children - Joseph and Mary Susan - sell land that their father bought in Lawrence County, Ohio, to Albert. It appears to me that they're selling their stake in land that was inherited. I speculate the eldest child was the administrator for his father's estate.

Curiously, an Albert Dornon is enumerated in the 1860 U.S. Federal Census in both Lawrence County, Ohio (with a wife and two children) and in Jackson County, Virginia (with his parents and siblings). The age and state of birth are the same in both records. Burr's family lived in both counties. Is it the same man? Should we map out the children enumerated in Lawrence County? Albert's fate is unknown.

Albert Dornon: 1860 US Census Lawrence County, OH

Joseph Dornon: Joseph's son Burzilla Hoyte Dornon was born January 6, 1862 in Lawrence County, Ohio. It seems Joseph named his son after his own father. I realize that's a pretty standard practice. But is there more to it? Was he named in mournful homage to his grandfather? Perhaps. Or perhaps Burr Zelah was ill at the time of Burzilla's birth and the eternal writing was merely on the wall.

Burzilla H. Dornon death certifcate. Courtesy Roger Dillon.

Like his brother Albert, Joseph's fate is currently unknown.

Lorenzo wound. Pension Record.

Lorenzo Dornon: Two months after their mother Sophronia passes away, Lorenzo paid $200 for 100 acres of land that belonged to "Burr's heirs." This included his brother Andrew, and three sisters: Abigail, Anna, and Lucinda. Lorenzo turned a profit on the land, selling it about six months later for $600.

Lorenzo passed away in June 1910 in Lawrence County, Ohio. He's buried in the above-mentioned Scottown Cemetery. A veteran of the Civil War, he sustained a bullet wound to the left chest that remained lodged in his body.

I'm hopeful we can track down an obituary to see if it provides any details about his parents.

Vandegrafts

Mary Susan (Dornon) Vandegraft: Mary Susan married Jackson Vandegraft. They settled in Illinois and had at least six children. Mary is buried in McLean County, Illinois. As the eldest Dornon daughter, I wonder if she was the keeper of family heirlooms and stories? Are there photographs?

I have a very poor quality photocopy of a picture that includes three Dornon sisters and their spouses. Mary Susan is pictured with her husband. Despite the poor quality, you can make out her strong facial features and see the striking similarity to her sisters Anna and Abigail.

Although she passed away in February 1896 before the practice was common, I'm hopeful that an area newspaper included a death notice or full obituary. The McLean County Genealogical Society was unable to locate her name in their obituary index of the Pantagraph (the local paper). An independent search of the papers from that time needs to be commissioned.

Anna (Dornon) Benedick

Anna (Dornon) Benedick: Anna is my link to the family. She was my 3rd great-grandmother and married Albert Benedick (a Civil War veteran who was in the same regiment as Anna's brother Andrew).

She passed away in March 1913 after a life that was a "battle against infirmity...[that] she endured courageously, hopefully, patiently."

Her obituary notes that immediate survivors include only a brother. There's no mention of any other siblings, which is important as we consider when her mysterious sister Lucinda Dornon dies. Unfortunately, there's no mention in Anna's obituary of either of her parents.

Andrew Dornon: Andrew was Anna's twin. He was the longest surviving Dornon child. He eventually settled with his family in Colorado where he passed away and is buried.

Andrew Dornon

The Pikes Peak Library District in Colorado Springs was unable to locate a death notice or obituary for Andrew in their 1930 newspapers. It seems odd that there was no record of his passing, particularly since his wife survived him and could have overseen its publication.

Phebe Jane Dornon: Phebe Jane is a phantom. She's in everyone's online tree (including my own), but without any supporting documentation to confirm her existence.

Online trees give a birth and death date of July 14, 1850. That's a very exact date. Without a record to provide that level of detail, it seems that this information would have to come from family records. Who provided that information? I want to talk to that person!

Abigail (Dornon) Benedick: Like her sister Anna, Abigail married a Benedick brother (George). Also like her sister, Abigail's 1910 obituary makes no mention of her parents.

Abigail (Dornon) Benedick

We learn that in her final years, she was "subject to sinking spells due to heart trouble ... attended with great suffering." However, she "maintained a quiet and hopeful disposition and her cheerfulness and calm fortitude [attested] to the strong spirit and great courage and endurance which formed ... prominent features of the character."

Lucinda E. Sophronia (Dornon) Scannel Stanley: Lucinda's story was documented in Lost Lucinda: Like Father Like Daughter. I'm still searching for her death location and then, hopefully, an obituary that might shed light on her father's passing.

To-date, her last known recorded appearance is in the 1900 U.S. Federal Census. She's living with her second husband Levi Stanley in Stella Township, Woods County, Oklahoma.

1900 U.S. Census: Lucinda (Dornon) Stanley

A letter to the Woods County Genealogical Society requesting help in locating information on her life in Oklahoma and death was returned as undeliverable. I suspect the society is defunct. I'll need to circle back with the Oklahoma state genealogical society.

Dornon Descendants
Are you a descendant of Burr and Sophronia Dornon? Where do you fit into this puzzle? What information can you shed on the Dornon siblings? Let's swap family lore!

Poor Guilty Creatures

During my first visit to the Family History Library in Salt Lake City, my research focused on my 4th great-grandfather Burr Zelah Dornon. This will come as no surprise to readers of this blog who are already familiar with my obsession with the question of when and where he died and was buried (see Narrowing Burr's Window of Death).

Family History Library - Salt Lake City

In the 1860 U.S. Federal Census, Burr is enumerated with his family in Jackson County, Virginia (soon to be West Virginia). After reviewing the library's catalog, I discovered that Jackson County's microfilmed Chancery Court records covered this time period. Perhaps one of the Dornons made an appearance? In my effort to conduct a reasonably exhaustive search, I had to review the records.

Row after row of microfilm-filled cabinets comprise a portion of the library's second floor. I quickly found the Jackson County Chancery Court records, and made myself at home in the dark at a reader - elbow to elbow with a horde of other genealogists.

Microfilm Reel Storage

Slowly, I began manually spinning through the film. I was pleasantly surprised to find there was a name index. My search crawled as I reached the D's. I held my breath as my eyes glanced through the names: Duffield, Deweese, Dornon. Dornon! I wanted to jump out of my chair and do a silent jig!

   

This wasn't just any Dornon. It was Dornon, B Z! Burr.Zelah.Dornon - my 4th great-grandfather! What information awaited me in the records? The answers to all of my questions, of course!

I quickly took note of the page number for his record: 138. I spun the hand crank forward, cruising through the handwritten documents. Page 20, page 50, page 190. Too far! I spun into reverse.

Page 86...Page 169. Wait! My hand didn't even make a full rotation between those two records. The microfilmed pages jumped from 86 to 169. There was no page 138! The records with all of my answers (or so I hoped) were missing from the microfilm. I had a terrible sinking feeling. 

Have you ever wondered what heartbreak and despair looks like to a genealogist? Behold:

Jackson County Chancery Court Records - Page 138 Missing

I moved through the rest of the microfilm reel to make sure the pages weren't included elsewhere, but the loss was real.

My time in Salt Lake and at the library was too limited to indulge my heartache for long. I decided to learn more about Jackson County during the 1860s. 

Jackson County During the War

The library had a county history by Dean Moore that was available online (for in-library use only) titled, "Washington's Woods : A History of Ravenswood and Jackson County, West Virginia." It included a section on the county during the Civil War, and made for a compelling read.

I learned that most men in the county made their living as farmers, and that it was among Virginia's top producing regions of tobacco. Although President Lincoln was terribly unpopular in the county (he didn't receive a single vote during the 1860 election), the majority of the citizens wanted to remain with the Union.

Curiously, between a vote on secession in May 1861 and an October 1861 vote to create a separate state in western Virginia, the male voting population decreased by 3/4. Where did all of the men go? According to Moore, they were either recruited into military service, taken prisoner of war (by either side), or killed. Where was Burr during this time? Was he still alive? What was his fate?

Poor Guilty Creatures

You may recall that Burr's son Andrew wrote a letter that told of the family's escape from Jackson County in September 1862 as Confederate forces took control of the previously Union-controlled territory. During this surprise invasion, the Dornon family fled westward to Ohio (the family bible was lost in the Ohio River as a result of the family's haste to escape the Rebels). 

I've speculated that Burr was alive during this flight, but there's no documentation to confirm or contradict this theory. Moore's sobering statistics on the significant decrease in the male population forces me to reconsider my assumptions.

Moore cites the diary of Henrietta Fitzhugh Barr who was a southern sympathizer living in Jackson County. Barr's diary, which was also recently shared with me by the Jackson County Historical Society, illustrates the panicked departure that many families, like the Dornons, made from Jackson County. 

Barr's commentary still sears through the pages - more than 150 years later - and bites of the tension that must have been endemic across the country.

"The union men, women, and children are escaping in hot haste over the river." September 3, 1862

"...a great many of our Union neighbors have skedaddled. Poor guilty creatures; they are afraid of their own shadows." September 16, 1862

Those poor guilty creatures include my Dornons, but was Burr still alive?

Moore's insights into the dramatic decrease in the male population over the span of a few short months, and Barr's callous diary mocking the fleeing Union families makes me even more curious about Burr's circumstances.

What would the Chancery Court records have brought to light? I know, I know - let it go! [sigh]

Clearly, I'm nowhere closer to an answer about when and where he died and was buried, but the dramatic tension has jumped up to deafcon five! I don't know about you, but I'm more intrigued than ever. There's a story here that feels bigger than my initial questions, and the search has to go on!

Narrowing Burr's Window of Death

It's been half a year since the detective work began in earnest to identify when and where my 4th great-grandfather Burr Zelah Dornon died and was buried.

Collaboration with distant Dornon cousins has helped to crowdsource ideas and facts that slowly chisel new cracks into this brick wall. Our collective efforts have been immensely helpful in turning up land records and deeds of sale that help pinpoint Burr's whereabouts and establish a timeline for his final years.

Before I fly to Salt Lake City for the 2015 RootsTech + Federation of Genealogical Societies conference, I want to step back and assess where we stand. What have we learned in the past six months, what questions remain, and what can we now hypothesize? I want to have questions in hand to explore while in Utah.

Six-month Review
Over the past six months, the questions have evolved and the research angles have shifted as new information came to light.

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Stone Broke: In my first blog post kicking off the search, I came across a death date for Burr of October 15, 1867. It's in tons of public online family trees. But none of them provide documentation or back-up to substantiate this date. Someone entered it into a tree and it's since been replicated so many times it's gained the weight of authority.

This random death date gives new meaning to the old line from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest: "...it's the truth even if didn't happen." Well, it didn't happen! In subsequent posts, we've been able to confirm that Burr is in fact deceased before October 1867.

In this same blog post, we were also able to find an 1860 U.S. Federal Census confirming that Burr was very much alive in Jackson County, Virginia (soon to be West Virginia). That census was enumerated on July 7, 1860. We know for certain he's alive on that date in that location.

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Running From the Rebels: The second blog post took the research to the National Archives in Washington, DC. I was able to pull Civil War pension files for two of Burr's sons: Lorenzo and Andrew. Lorenzo's pension provided no clues about his father's death; however, Andrew's file hinted at the turmoil the Civil War inflicted on the Dornon family.

During Andrew's application for a pension, the U.S. Government asked him to provide proof of birth. Appropriate documentation, they said, could come from the family bible. Andrew wrote a letter explaining that he had no written proof because he, "heard my mother say that our family bible that contained the family records of births and deaths, was lost in the Ohio River at the time that the Rebels runs us out of our home in Jackson Co. West Virginia in 1861 or 2."

The Dornons fled their home in Jackson County because of the Rebels! Now doesn't that make you very curious about what happened to the Dornon patriarch? Research on the Jackson County Historical Society's website was able to corroborate this story. While the county was primarily under Union authority, "The only exception was in September 1862 when Confederate forces, under the command of General Albert Gallatin Jenkins, briefly gained control of the county."

I speculate that Burr was still alive in September 1862 when his family fled from Jackson County to Ohio.

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Finding Clues in Land Records: In October 2014, a Dornon cousin that I met through the Ancestry.com online member community, shared with me a handful of land records that she was able to uncover at the Briggs Lawrence County Library in Ironton, Ohio. 

This cousin brought my attention to the marriage record for my own 3rd great-grandparents - Albert Benedick and Anna Dornon. Anna was a daughter of Burr. Albert and Anna obtained a marriage license in Lawrence County, Ohio on October 20, 1866. The marriage record states that the young couple obtained the "consent of the mothers ... and that their fathers are dead."

Dead! There you have it! This is the first documented evidence of Burr's death. He is deceased by the time of Anna's marriage on October 20, 1866. This provides the evidence needed to undermine the erroneous death date plugged into so many online family trees.

I believe the land records further narrow the window for when Burr died. In 1856, Burr bought over 100 acres of land in Lawrence County, Ohio. On June 3, 1863, two of Burr's children - Mary Susan and Joseph - sell a portion of this same land to their older brother Albert.

I speculate that Burr has died by June 3, 1863, his property was inherited by his family, and two of his children sell their stakes in the land to the eldest son, Albert, who is likely administering his father's estate.

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Lost Lucinda: Like Father Like Daughter: Unable to locate a probate record for Burr, I decided to take a closer look at each of his children. Perhaps an obituary for one of them would provide new information about Burr's death. Burr had nine children. I was able to trace six of them through the rest of their lives. Three remained a question.

The two eldest sons - Albert and Joseph - both disappear after the above-mentioned 1863 land records, and haven't been found in the 1870 census. I speculate they both died before 1870 (you'll find online family trees giving each brother an unsubstantiated death year of 1864).

The youngest Dornon child, Lucinda, is also a bit of a mystery. When and where she passed away is still unknown. She married Sylvester Scannel when she was 15 years old. In 1893, Sylvester was killed in a prairie fire. Written records of Lucinda's whereabouts become spotty after this time, until the society page of a Kansas newspaper highlights that she remarried to Levi Stanley in June 1899. They appear in the 1900 U.S. Federal Census in Woods County, Oklahoma. The trail then runs cold.

The hope is that an obituary may include that crucial line, "Lucinda was pre-deceased by her parents in...[insert year]." It's a long shot, I realize, but perhaps my genealogy dreams could one day come true.

Recent Discoveries
This week, a staffer with the Jackson County Historical Society in West Virginia found Burr Dornon listed on a deed of trust for a sawmill. The record was executed on November 14, 1860. Burr was alive on that date and still in Jackson County. This further narrows the window from the July 7, 1860 U.S. Federal Census - his last documented appearance.

Deed of Trust for sawmill - Jackson County, VA, 14 Nov. 1860

A Hypothesis
Based on the records uncovered to-date:

• We know that Burr Zelah Dornon was alive on November 14, 1860 when he appeared in the deed of trust for a sawmill in Jackson County, Virginia.  
• I speculate that he was still alive in September 1862 when the Confederates briefly gained control of Jackson County, Virginia, and his son Andrew wrote that the family fled the Rebels and settled in Ohio.
• We know that he is dead by the time his daughter Anna marries on October 20, 1866.
• I speculate that he was dead by June 3, 1863 when two of his children sell portions of land that he had purchased years earlier.

I believe the evidence we've uncovered enables us to make a compelling case that Burr died during a nine month window.

September 1862 - June 3, 1863

What Does It Matter?
This is a curious brick wall because the questions at hand - when and where did Burr die and where was he buried - aren't key to moving further along the Dornon family line. We already know his parents' names. We could simply bypass the roadblock and go around the wall to continue tracing the Dornon family's ancestry.

I want to find an answer to provide proof and counter the proliferation of incorrect information online (which this post has already done!). But, most importantly, I'm drawn to the human drama that appears to have unfolded during the height of our country's Civil War.

Burr's family had to flee their home during a tumultuous conflict that ravaged the country. A family bible - presumably among their most sacred possessions - was tossed into the Ohio River by an invading army. Clearly, facts like this suggest there's a story there, and I long to resurrect it. This is larger than just the Dornon family and one man's death. It illustrates the hardships that war inflicted on everyday citizens; it's American history.

What's Next?
I hold out hope that there's a government or family record that will surface and resolve these questions. Perhaps a probate record will one day surface for Burr. That would be marvelous.

My distant Dornon cousin from Ancestry.com wrote last month that the Lawrence County library only has tax records for 1818 and 1821. Apparently, the records for the 1860s were destroyed in a fire. Just our luck.

Another Dornon cousin - also found through the member community on Ancestry.com - advised that we begin looking into the family of Burr's brother Samuel Dornon. More to come on this front.

Along with the deed of trust, the Jackson County Historical Society also discovered information about the widow of Burr's son Joseph. Perhaps further investigation on this front will yield additional clues.

Over the past six months, this blog has helped to shed light on the events surrounding Burr's final days. I suspect this blog - and the crowdsourced research contributed to it - will be key in finally resolving our questions. Perhaps the right person will come across this post and realize they hold the missing piece of the puzzle.