Isaac Collier: Brunswick County, Virginia

Isaac Collier (1709-1771)

These are the names of slaves listed in the will of Isaac Collier. Brunswick County, Virginia.
The following are places his children lived after his death. They were the owners of his slaves after his death.

Greensville, Brunswick Virginia


To:

Daughter Ann Collier: Seems to have stayed in Brunswick, Virginia.
Phibby
Annakay
Delsey
Pompy

Son Myhill Collier: Died in Oglethorpe County, Georgia act 1802
James
Daniel

Vines Collier: Moved to Lexington, Oglethorpe, Georgia. Died in 1795 (Was Wilkes County)
Dave

Daughter Elizabeth Collier Smith
(Married Josiah Smith in Albermarle, Surry, Virginia. Died in York, York, South Carolina):
Eady (woman)

Daughter Edith Hicks:
Eady (girl)

Wife Ann Collier: Died in Brunswick, Virginia in 1737
Nick
Harry
Frank
Pat
Milly
Daphny


Listed in Last Will and Testament Inventory:

Man Nick
Man Harry
Man Frank
Man James
Man Daniel
Boy Pompy
Woman Patt
Woman Phibby
Girl Eady
Woman Annakay (there is some question of the last part of the same. The first is certainly Anna. It could be Annamay. It is ANNA_ _ Y.
Woman Kelsey
Woman Daphney

You Can't Change History...

I am from the deep south. I was born there and lived there until 1982. As a result, it is with a heavy heart that I am aware that many of my ancestors owned slaves. It was something I knew in my heart, but was unprepared for the emotions that squirmed their way to the surface of my soul the first time I saw proof.  I can't change history. I can't apologize for the actions of my forefathers. They were living and fighting for what they knew. I can help in any way possible, to recreate the families of so many people who were separated by slavery, who have no idea who their 3rd great grandfather was because   until 1870, if he was a slave, he was not listed by name in a census record.

While traveling through this genealogical DNA journey,  I have discovered many cousins, linked by DNA, who are likely descendants of my slaveholders and their slaves. Typing these words makes my heart weep. I would like to fantasize that it was "love", but I am not so naive. I pray they are the product of boundless love in recent generations.

I have decided to take on a project to list the slaves of my ancestors, who are mentioned in any way in their wills or in other documents. Since many slaves were given or took the last name of their owners, I am hoping that through this project I may join at least one person with an ancestor they have not yet found. 

It know it is a miniscule gesture, but it well help to heal my sadness, at least in a very small way, to try to give back an ancestor that was taken from one of my DNA cousins. 

"Oh Danny Boy", or Holy Cow, We are Irish!

I am one of seven children, each of us having our own quirks and characteristics. Many we share, if not with all of our siblings, with at least one or two.

For a few years now, I have been considering the Ancestry DNA test. Okay, honestly, I have been obsessing over it. Two of my siblings generously agreed to test at the same time I tested. The wait was excruciating. My sister, JFO's DNA was the first to arrive, and although we were pleasantly surprised that the largest portion of our DNA comes from Ireland, we were shocked at the substantial amount of Scandinavian that was in our DNA. 

It was only a few days later when my DNA results arrived and about a week later when the third family member's arrived. 

If you haven't researched DNA testing, you may be surprised to learn we are not all the "same". Yes, we are full siblings, the amount of shared DNA proves it, but we are still each a mishmash of 50% of the DNA of each of our biological parents. I always use this analogy to explain how we can be siblings and yet our ethnic DNA not be identical. 

Imagine that each of my parents has a bowl of alphabet soup. The bowl is filled with random letters that they received from their two parents. When I was created, each of my parents took their bowl of alphabet soup and poured 50% of it into a new bowl, representing Me. They were unable to sit and pick through the letters and choose which traits to give to me, they just had to be satisfied with the random lot of letters that were poured into my bowl. In my parents case, they did that seven times.  There were seven new bowls, filled with random letters. When those letters were combined, they made each of us unique, and similar.  

I am thrilled to begin this journey. I have much to learn!

Lula Jack (Jackie) Swanson 1878-1938

Lula Jack (Jackie) Swanson McCarter Harrington
15 Jun 1878 - 19 Jun 193

My great grandmother Lula Jack (Jackie) Swanson McCarter Harrington was born
15 Jun 1878 in Georgia and died 19 Jun 1938 in Georgia. 

Lula  Jack (Jackie) was married to
(1) William Marvin McCarter
(2) Jessie Charlie Harrington

Lula Jack was the daughter of George Washington (Wash) Swanson and Luranie (Lurena) Catherine Bird.

Lula Jack's first husband, William Marvin McCarter died at the young age of 25 leaving Lula Jack with three young children; Johnnie Eloise McCarter, Lizzie McCarter and Hershell McCarter.

Johnnie Elosie McCarter was my grandmother.  

After the death of William Marvin McCarter, Lula Jack married Jessie Charlie Harrington. Lula Jack and Jessie Charlie Harrington had children; James Harrington, Maude Harrington and Voncile Harrington.

The Sacred Harp Singers (Swanson)

The Sacred Harp

A Collection of Psalm and Hymns, Tunes, Odes and Anthems

(Publication date believed to be 1869)

Music has always been the very heartbeat of my family, as far back as I can remember, there was music playing and someone dancing. So when my dear cousin Nita Foster Ayers shared the pages of this Hymnal with me, I was ecstatic. My 3rd great grandfather, John T. Swanson (1822-1889), wrote his name many times on the pages of this hymnal. Was he practicing his penmanship or claiming ownership? On yet another page, is the signature of his son, my great great grandfather G. W. Swanson. It also includes a beautiful “doodle” incorporating the name “Swanson”. 

“Awake My Soul”

This is a link to a trailer for a movie documentary about Sacred Harp Singing.

http://awakemysoul.com/thefilm.php

Side Note: After the passing of my elderly neighbor, a few Sacred Harp Hymnals were found among his belongings. It brought to mind mornings when I would here him singing gospel music with a record playing, as he was going about his daily chores, or better yet, singing at the top of his lungs while mowing the lawn. Being your neighbor was a blessing Mr. Harold Stark.





The Sacred Harp, an oblong songbook first published in 1844 by B.F. White and E. J. King

Marshal Stevens

Marshal Stevens

My third great grandfather, Marshal Stevens was born 21 Aug 1804 in South Carolina and died 6 Oct 1888 in Harris County, Georgia. Marshal married Elizabeth Lundy Huff before 1833. They made their home in Harris County, Georgia.

*19 Oct 1850 Harris County, Georgia, Valley Plains District.
(Value of Real Estate owned was $2000.00)

*1860 Harris County, Georgia
( Real Estate $4000.00, Personal Estate $10,500.00)

*27 July 1870 Harris County, Georgia, Hamilton Post Office (Value of Real Estate $4400.00, Value of Personal Estate $575.00)*04 June 1880 Harris County, Georgia, 786th District

Children of Marshal Stevens and Elizabeth Huff : 

Mary Ann Isabelle, William Huff, Nancy (Lucy) Virginia,

Narcissa Emily, Martha Burchet, Frances Ozella Texas, Sophronia Thermutis.

Roosevelt State Park, Red Bugs and Southern Hospitality or Beauty and the Beasts!

 

For weeks before my visit to Georgia, I busily planned my trip to see the home of my great great great grandfather, Marshal Stevens. Through contacts I have made on the internet, I was certain the house was still standing and had the location pinpointed  to the exact distance I would have to travel to where the Stevens home is located.

For about 15 years, I have had a photograph of the Marshal Stevens family in my possession without knowing who they were. I was certain it was family, just uncertain as to exactly who the family was. Only last year did I discover my link to the Stevens family of Harris County, Georgia. Shortly after discovering my connection to the Stevens family, one of my first cousins sent a photo of my great grandfather William Marvin McCarter and his parents, one of whom was Frances Ozella Texas Stevens, daughter of Marshal.

My older sister was visiting my family in Ohio and happened to be looking through my 3-ring binder, which is filled with miscellaneous genealogy papers on a day when we had been looking at the photo of William Marvin McCarter and his parents. She came upon the  photograph of a large family and asked who they were. I told her I was unsure, that it had been given to me by a Foster family member who didn't know who was in the photo. She studied the photo for a while and then let out a WHOOP! Right there in that photo were William Marvin McCarter and his parents, Alexander H. McCarter and Frances Ozella Texas Stevens. I studied and studied the photo, trying my best to decide where it was taken and who the people in it were. After many long hours of studying the photo I decided it to very likely be the home of Marshal Stevens. I contacted another Stevens researcher who had access to photos from the book History of Harris County, Georgia, 1827-1961  by Barfield, Louise Calhoun (Mrs. G. C.) and she emailed a copy of a photo Marshal Stevens home to me. It was indeed the Marshal Stevens home!

On Sunday, a day after we celebrated my mother's 85th birthday, several of us loaded up our cars and took off for Pine Mountain. Our first stop was Roosevelt State Park. My older brother, who is familiar with the area, chose Dowdell's Knob for our picnic in the park. It was absolutely breathtaking and only heightened my anticipation. In a few short hours I would be standing on the very same ground on which my Great Great Great Grandfather, Great Great Great Grandmother, various cousins, aunts and uncles and the cherished William Marvin McCarter had stood. While standing on Dowdell's Knob we were looking at the very valley through which we would soon be driving. 

We had a simple but lovely picnic overlooking Pine Mountain Valley. Click on the thumbnail photos to see what we saw on top of Dowdell's Knob.

This Was His Georgia Historical Marker

Stone Grill  Reads...Franklin D. Roosevelt liked to picnic her

and he had this grill built. It was filled in to preserve it.

Dowdell's Knob  This is the view from Dowdell's Knob.

Great Great Great Grandson (and wife) of Marshal Stevens .

Great Great Great Great Grandson (my son) 

of Marshal Stevens at Dowdell's Knob.

The Picnic

Following our picnic, as we started down the mountain. I knew exactly where I was going. It was if I had been there a hundred times before. We made a right turn onto King's Gap Road and my hard skipped a beat. It would only be a few more miles until I would see the home of Marshal Stevens, the very home that was in the photograph that I had spent hours studying for clues. Nothing prepared me for what I was going to see next.

I expected it to need work; it is after all over 120 years old. I expected that it might need extensive work but I was not prepared for it to have been turned into a dumping ground. The only thought my mind could form was...it is still supposed to be in the family. How could anyone who was a part of the family have let it come to this? It broke my heart. I could better understand it if it were strangers...but family?

There was an enormous pick-up truck parked in the front yard of the house (note my creative angles for photographing around it, tee hee). We decided we should call the house before we started trespassing and were greeted by an answering machine. I left a detailed message explaining how far I had traveled and my purpose for being in the front yard, in hopes of someone picking the telephone up. No one did.  Just as I was disconnecting from the answering machine a man walked out onto the porch. My hopes soared...a new cousin! Someone who was living in the very house that Marshal and family had lived in, sleeping in possibly the very room he slept in.  

After asking if he was the man I knew to be living in the house, I shouted out to him who we were and what we were doing there. He said the man who lived there was his father and quite frankly that was about all the conversation we got out of him. I told him we were likely related from very far back (turns out he is more than likely my fourth cousin)  and that all we wanted was to take a picture of the house. He said we could and went on about his business.

My older brother who was with us has never met an enemy. Everyone loves him. He is just that kind of guy, a good old born and bred southern man. Everyone he meets is his friend, but not this cousin. My brother tried, made small talk...but this newfound cousin did not reciprocate. The others in my party were my 20 year old son, who was still in the car so I know it wasn't his northern accent or facial jewelry who scared the guy; my sister-in-law who is as harmless as a fly...(note, I didn't say harmless as a red bug); my 85 year old mother who came along for the adventure even though this was her ex-husband's ancestors. (She must have looked terribly threatening walking with her cane.); my older sister, who can easily carry on a 60 minute conversation with the neighbor's grocery delivery guy without catching her breath. Even she couldn't budge this new cousin. He traipsed straight by us and closed the door behind him.  I even pulled out the "Hey, I've got a really old picture you might like to see" card. Nope, that didn't work either. So we walked around the front yard and took a few pictures and I had my moment. Scarred as it was...I still took my moment.

I stood in front of the house, directly in front of the very porch steps on which numerous members of our family had gathered over 100 years ago for their family photograph. I tried to visualize them standing there on those steps. I tried to imagine Marshal's grandson William Marvin, who was still just a lad, running through the front yard. I imagined the chattering that must have gone on as the photographer tried to assemble this large group for a photo. Yes, I had my moment. I took it! I wasn't flying all the way from Ohio to Georgia and not have MY moment!

A MOMENT was all I got!

It was only a few minutes later when our newfound cousin decided to be even more welcoming and charming than he had been thus far. He suddenly found it necessary to walk out onto the front porch carrying a barrel from a machine gun. Yes, I said machine gun. He was only "cleaning" it, but his message was clear. It was time for us to leave. 

What a sad moment for me. I take great pride in my family history and have uncovered more information than anyone has ever known about our family. I have chosen this path, or it has chosen me. Never did I expect to be treated this way in such a warm and welcoming place as Georgia. Georgia is the place where strangers on the side of the road put their rakes down to smile and wave to you as you pass by and every car that you meet on a country road has a driver who lifts his hand from the steering wheel in a greeting. I am still baffled. We were harmless. If he didn't want us there all he needed to do was ask us to leave. 

He may have threatened me with his silly little machine gun, but he can never ever take back what I had already taken...my moment!