First-Timers Friday - NERGC, Manchester, NH

I was too tired yesterday to write about my first day at NERGC.  In a word (or three) it was awesome!

I left my house later than expected, and stopped for breakfast somewhere along the three-hour trek, but I still managed to arrive in Manchester in time to find parking and to grab my registration packet before things got started.  I spotted Heather Rojo in the lobby, but didn’t get a chance to introduce myself.

My first stop was the First-timer’s session.  The purpose of the session was to orient newbies to the convention.  I didn’t really learn anything that I couldn’t have learned from reading the paperwork in my registration packet, but it was nice to have some time to adjust to being in conference-mode.

The next stop was the opening session in which SandraMacLean Clunies, CG, spoke about mill workers in the Lawrence and Lowell, Massachusetts areas.  Using three specific individuals that had been researched, she was able to bring the time-period to life easily, providing a bit of humor to go with it.  Looking around the room at my fellow attendees (850+ was the count that I heard), I could see that I was clearly among people like myself.  We weren’t learning about history like it was taught to us in school.  We were getting to know individuals as clearly as if they were standing in front of us, being introduced by a mutual friend.  The side-affect was learning a bit about the history of millwork during the early to middle 19^th century.  My take-away, actually, was to check if millwork may be why my Charles Jenkins may have ended up in Massachusetts before the Civil War.

In between the opening session and the next session I remembered something about conventions and conferences.  People don’t walk as fast as I do.  It’s not that I hurry, but I have long legs.  I had to keep reminding myself to take smaller steps while negotiating the lobbies.

In the afternoon I was able to follow the “Photographs” track of the agenda.  While I’m not sure that I learned anything that hadn’t been covered in the reading that I’ve been doing.  It was fun to listen to the speakers, and how passionate they are about what they do.  Especially entertaining was Michael Strauss,AG (“…and my son Levi. -pause-  Yes, Levi Strauss…”).  I loved his stories about finding old photographs of his hometown and family.

The last session of the day almost literally left me with my mouth open in amazement.  ColleenFitzpatrick, PhD, walked through the processes she had used to identify a few photos.  First, she talks quickly (at least for this New England boy).  Next, the amount of information that she gave was staggering, and the logic that she used to solve the mystery of a bar photo was more than a little impressive.  I left with a mental note to check out her books when I get a chance.

So, my first day plans of immersing myself in conference culture and learning about photographs were both successful.  I did notice, though, that none of the speakers talked about photos much past the turn of the 20^th century.  I’ve also noticed this in my reading.  That leaves about a hundred year span of photography that doesn’t seem to be covered much.  I wonder if there’s an opportunity there, or if I just haven’t come across anything authoritative yet.

Wednesday Wit - Quips From The Past

When some people hear that I enjoy history and genealogy, they get “the look”.  Their face scrunches up, their eyes glaze over, and you can almost see them transported back to their days in high-school where history meant boring lectures about dates and names and places.  They mentally shiver, and sometimes let out an audible “Bleh!”

It’s for those people that I try to share some of the more interesting things that we never learned in school.  In fact, I’ve easily learned more about history reading on my own than I ever did in school, and I would argue that what I’ve learned has been more exciting than any classroom could ever be.

Schools, I think, forget that history is about people.  That’s why I like studying genealogy.  Genealogists study history from the individual out toward the larger events.  We are the historians that get to see that people are people, no matter when they lived, and sometimes people are funny.

One of my favorite finds involved an ancestor of mine, Oliver Wright (1741 – 1820), who was recorded in a local history with this quote: 

“They had a family of twelve children, ten girls and two boys. The old gentleman was wont to boast that he had brought up a ton of girls; and it is a fact that they were all weighed at one time, and averaged two hundred pounds apiece.”[1]

First, I think it’s neat that the author of the history recorded this quip.  Apparently Oliver’s sense of humor was well-known enough to warrant being written down.   

Next, it seems that my family’s sense of humor hasn’t changed much over the years. Well over a hundred years after Oliver Wright’s death, I remember a family reunion where my grandfather stood looking at a pedigree chart hanging on the wall.  Someone nearby noticed him looking at the names of his seven children and asked “Wesley, why’d you have so many kids?"

With a slight grin he dryly said "Winters are cold in Vermont."

[1] Charles A. Bemis, History of the Town of Marlborough, Cheshire County, N.H., With The Report of Its Centennial Celebration in 1876; Also Embracing Genealogies and Sketches of Familes From 1764 to 1880, (Boston, MA: Press of George H. Ellis, 1881), 711.

Wandering Wednesday - My Migration Path

Davis (Yellow) and Batchelder (Blue) Migration Paths

The above image shows my migration path plotted out on a Google Earth map.  By “my” path, I mean the migration pattern of my mother and father’s patrilineal lines.  It’s interesting to me that both sides of my family followed basically the same route from Massachusetts, through New Hampshire, and into Vermont at roughly the same time periods.  In fact, when I took a few measurements on the map, it appears that the two lines always lived within 20 to 30 miles of each other, with the exception of a 15 year period when the Davis family was in Vermont while the Batchelder family was still in New Hampshire.

When looking at a map like this, I can’t help wondering if the two families ever met in the past.  Both sides arrived in America in 1636.  Did John Batchelder ever walk the 12 or so miles from Salem to Charlestown and run into Barnabas Davis?  Did Edmund Batchelder ever come across Solomon Davis while they were hunting in the woods of southern New Hampshire as boys?  The chances might be low, but it’s fun to think about.

Another thing that interests me while looking at migration paths is what may have caused the people to move.  Looking at these two paths, it appears that the first major move occurred at around the time of the American Revolution.  Did the families move due to the events that were happening in and around Boston at the time, or did they have other reasons?  The second major move for both families occurred just after Vermont became the fourteenth state.  What was it that caused them to leave New Hampshire?  Were they unhappy there, or was the lure of new land and development in a new place too much to pass up?

Whatever their reasons for migrating, I’m thankful that my ancestors landed where they did.  I can’t think of a better place to grow up than in the mountains of Vermont.

Military Monday – Captain David Perry

View of Fort Ticonderoga from Mount Defiance

In addition to my family lines, I’ve also looked into my wife’s ancestors so that I can pass that information on down to my children. One of her most interesting ancestors is Captain David Perry, a participant in the French & Indian War and the American Revolution, and an observer of the War of 1812. He is also one of the few people of the time-period to record a near-death experience.

David Perry was born 8 August, 1741 in Rehoboth, Massachusetts. In 1758, at the age of 16, he took part in an attack on one of my favorite historical spots, Fort Ticonderoga. He was part of the British army, fighting against the French. His description of the battle, which was lost by his side, contains a wonderful quote that shows that even in that time-period, not everyone thought that linear warfare was a good idea:

“It was the first engagement I had ever seen, and the whistling of balls, and roar of musketry terrified me not a little. At length our regiment formed among the trees, behind which the men kept stepping from their ranks for shelter. Col. Prebble, who, I well remember, was a harsh man, swore he would knock the first man down who should step out of his ranks; which greatly surprised me, to think that I must stand still to be shot at.”

Perry continued to fight with the British for the next few years, taking part in battles in Canada, including the taking of Quebec. It was at the end of the war, in 1762, that he had his near-death experience while sick aboard a ship headed for Boston. The most interesting part of this experience, to me, is that he claims to have been shown an image of the Battle of Bunker Hill, more than 10 years before it happened. His description is incredible to read:

“While I was on board that vessel, it appears to me that I died -- that I went through the excruciating pains of the separating of soul and body, as completely as ever I shall again, (and such a separation must soon take place) and that I was immediately conveyed to the gate of Heaven, and was going to pass in; but was told by one, that I could not enter then, but in process of time, if I would behave as he directed, on the set time I should have admittance. It appeared to me that my feet stood on a firm foundation, and that I stood there for the space of about a half hour. In this time there appeared to be a continual flowing up of people, as we suppose they die; and none stopped, but all passed off, one way or the other. Just at my left hand, there appeared to be the opening of a great gulph, and the greater part of the grown people seemed to pass off there. Once in a while one passed through the gate into the Holy City. One person appeared, with whom I had been intimately acquainted, and it appeared to me that I knew him as well as ever I did: it was Doct. Matthews -- [and whether I saw him or not, he died, as I afterwards learned, while I was sick on board the ship]. The one that talked with me, told me about the Revolutionary War, and showed me the British vessels in the harbor of Boston, as plainly as I saw them when they came. And during the first year of that war, I was down there in Gen. Putnam's regiment, and I went on Roxbury hill to see the shipping in the harbor, and they looked exactly as they had been shown to me many years before. This transition (as I firmly believe) from life to death, and from death to life, which took place nearly sixty years ago, is as fresh in my mind now as it was then; and not many days have passed from that time to this, which have not brought the interesting scenes I then witnessed, clearly to view in my mind.”

After the Revolution, Perry moved to New Hampshire, then later to Vermont where he witnessed the addition of the state to the Union in 1791, and the Battle of Lake Champlain during the war of 1812. David Perry died 2 May, 1826 in Ira, Vermont, where many of his descendants still reside.

For more information about David Perry and his adventures, see the Captain David Perry Website, which contains a complete online edition of his book Recollections of An Old Soldier: The Life of Captain David Perry.

Sentimental Sunday – Road Trips

Amos Batchelder with his 6th-great-grandaughter in 2009.

First, I’d like to thank the Geneabloggers for the warm welcome.  Originally I was going to post about my Davis line next, but a few people mentioned their own Batchelder lines, which made me think back to the research I’ve done on that side of my family.

For those familiar with the Batchelder, Batcheller Genealogy by Frederick Clifton Pierce[1], my line is the one listed in the second half of the book, those descended from the brothers Joseph, Henry, Joshua and John.  The family came from England in 1636, settling in the area of Salem, Massachusetts.  They lived in the Salem/Wenham area until the time of the American Revolution when the family migrated to Mont Vernon, New Hampshire.  In the 1800s, the family moved again, this time to Peru, Vermont, where Batchelders lived until my great uncle, the last Batchelder in town, passed away in 2006.

The Batchelders were the first family that I began researching with my mother when I was a child.  I have memories of walking the two town cemeteries while she pointed out the gravestones of various family members.  I also recall visiting a cemetery in another state, though I didn’t realize until many years later that it was the cemetery where her father was buried in New York.

Road trips like that to the cemetery were a constant when I was growing up.  I remember many trips to see family, and to visit old homestead sites, or even road trips just for the sake of taking a road trip.

As an adult, I still enjoy road trips, and I still enjoy going to cemeteries, visiting my ancestors.  Like many genealogists, visiting the burial sites of my ancestors gives me a sense of their lives and their communities.  Small towns seem to be in my bloodlines.  Most of the towns that I’ve visited haven’t changed much since my ancestors lived there.

One example of such a place is Wenham, Massachusetts.  Several years ago my wife and I decided to visit the Wenham Museum.  While we were in town, we took a tour of the cemetery, looking for Batchelder headstones.  We found the grave site of my ancestor Amos Batchelder.  About a year later my daughter and I took another road trip, again passing through Wenham.  As we drove past the cemetery, I said, “Hey, let’s go visit Grandpa Amos.”  Though not interested in genealogy, my daughter was a good sport, letting me capture the above photo of ancestor and descendant together.

Every time I see this photo now, I think of all the road trips I’ve been on;  visiting Washington, D.C. with my oldest daughter, or going to Stephentown, New York with my mother, or those solo road trips that I’ve taken to places like Mont Vernon, New Hampshire.

[1] Frederick Clifton Pierce, Batchelder, Batcheller Genealogy (Chicago, IL: W.B. Conkey Company, 1898).