Earlier this month I joined Bernice Bennet on the hit podcast ANCESTOR’S FOOTPRINTS to discuss my research into my 5th great grandfather’s remarkable journey from slavery to free man of color.
It was a pleasure to be back on with Bernice, a leading black genealogist, award-winning author of Black Homesteaders of the South, national archives specialist, and inspiration to family historians working to tear down brick walls in their research. Five years ago, Bernice and I sat down to talk about another ancestor of mine, Harriet Riggs, on her earlier podcast series Research at the National Archives.
Listen to the podcast on Apple Podcast, Spreaker on IHeart Radio, and your favorite podcast service.
By following the middle name of my late maternal grandfather down a genealogical rabbit hole, that of antebellum and postbellum African American naming conventions as a way to remember one’s roots, I recently discovered the identity of the English immigrant enslaver of my great-great grandfather Jim Mays (1847 – 1910) of Greenville, South Carolina. Tracing my roots to the hilly upcountry in the O’neal District, after which my grandfather was named, led to new insights that finally revealed the identities of his mother Mariah Few and her mother Sylvia Few, descendants of African slaves and William Few, a founding father and signer of the Declaration of Independence. I also learned that James Mays, the migrant from Surrey, England who arrived in the Americas as a sailor at the advent of the 19th century became a grocer, tavern owner, and planter, and first began purchasing enslaved people in the city of Charleston with an intriguing man named Abraham Ashe in 1807. Ashe’s free labor established Mays’ “American dream.”
Slave auction block on the curb in Charleston, South Carolina. Photo by author.
New evidence reveals Abraham Ashe was born enslaved in Haiti about 1772, that he became a free man of color in South Carolina, a husband and father several times over, and the owner of several properties in Charleston until his death in 1842. Abraham was my 5x maternal grandfather. Abraham’s 18th century descendants are found enslaved in records in both Greenville and Charleston, and free before Emancipation in Philadelphia and New York. My research uncovers a dramatic turning point in my family history; when Abraham Ashe’s last enslaver James Mays left Charleston about 1825, Mays took two slaves, Abraham’s first family away to Greenville, leaving Abraham behind.
Abraham Ashe had many lives, in the West Indies and America, as a slave and free person of color, that spanned the Haitian revolution, War of 1812, Denmark Vesey’s slave revolt, the establishment of an abolitionist African Methodist church, all while navigating the rise of a precarious class of an African-descended elite in Charleston. Most astoundingly, he would use the institution to his gain, to secure his family. The same institution would threaten his family’s existence. His constantly evolving life, well-documented by virtue of being at the epicenter of the American slave trade, is an example of the diaspora wherein Charleston could be regarded as an extension of the West Indies, and the contradictions of being instrumental to white wealth played out in contracts and financial agreements that managed the lives of those around him, free and enslaved.
Abraham’s children lived on in three lines. One line lived as free people of color and nominal slaves in the hustle and bustle of one of the wealthiest port cities in America at the time. Another line, self-liberated, were industrious migrants in Free states, while the other quietly toiled enslaved in South Carolina’s “dark corner” near Greenville until the Civil War. Until now, no one living knew of Abraham Ashe’s existence or his remarkable legacy except his contemporaries.
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A CERTAIN NEGRO MAN.
After an early career as a sailor, the white Englishman James Mays, settled in Charleston, South Carolina in about 1804 then naturalized to become an American citizen in 1807. Just under 30 years had passed since the war of independence. Charleston was the busiest and wealthiest port in the Americas, a center of international trade with Europe and the many island nations and colonies of the West Indies. In fact, Charleston was founded by early colonial planters of France and Spain from Bermuda, but eventually fell into British hands. During the Revolutionary War, the British blockaded and invaded Charleston, securing the strategic port city for Loyalists, including formerly enslaved who fought for freedom. After two years of occupation, the Continental Army forced the British out. The fall was marked by a mass evacuation of over 4,000 loyalists whose properties were seized, and over 5,000 blacks who left with them, now free people of color. Reports state that approximately 14,000 people evacuated aboard approximately 130 Royal Navy vessels. When James Mays arrived, records show he quickly naturalized, completing his oath to show loyalty to his new country. He quickly set up shop at 3 Tradd Street in the heart of the city according to the city directory.
At the age of 26 in August 1807, James Mays purchased a “certain negro man slave” named Abraham from the wealthy white widow Elizabeth Ashe for $600. The bill of sale confirmed Mays was the same “grocer” appearing in the 1805 and 1806 city directory, and was witnessed by Elizabeth’s son from her first marriage Daniel Legare.
Bill of Sale, 1807. Elizabeth Ashe to James Mays, a certain negro man, Abraham.
Presumably, Abraham, who took the surname “Ashe” after his last enslaver, labored for about three years for Mays. Abraham managed to gain his freedom by about 1810. We know this because he does not appear listed in James Mays’ household on the 1810 census in the column marked “slave” and not long after Abraham creates a new status appearing in financial records in Charleston archives. I surmise Abraham likely continued to work for the grocer or hired himself out in the city. He was probably freed by “private manumission” – a method by which an enslaver like Mays could grant freedom to a slave without going through the courts. This method was later outlawed by the South Carolina legislature. In 1819 James Mays, now 38, married 26 year old Elizabeth Bouchonneau also of Charleston. Elizabeth brought into the Mays household her sister Ann Felicity (19), and the enslaved girl, Cretia, whom the sisters shared equally. Cretia’s only mention in the records by name was in a bequest of Sarah Bouchonneau to her daughters Ann and Elizabeth. Cretia appears in the Mays household on the 1820 census (unnamed) as an enslaved woman between 14 and 25 years old. Also in the household is an enslaved girl under 14, probably Cretia’s infant daughter.
“I give and bequeath to my two daughters, Elizabeth and Felicity Ann Bouchonneau my negro girl (Cretia)…and it is my wish that the said Negro girl be hired out and that the Product of her wages Divided equal among my two daughters.” – Will of Sarah Hutchinson Bouchonneau, 1811
The Bouchonneau family were led by Charles Bouchonneau (1747 – 1803), a Frenchman who is first found in the 1790 census working as a scrivener on Meeting Street. Bouchonneau was a Huguenot refugee; the Bouchonneau are found in a Huguenot settlement among the records of Hillsborough in “New Bordeaux” as early as 1765 in Colonial South Carolina. The town of French refugees was abandoned after 1770. When Charles Bouchonneau died in 1803 he left Sampson, an enslaved man to be hired out and a boy, Jack, to be apprenticed to his son Isaac. Charles’ daughters were quite young when he passed and then inherited Cretia when their mother died a few years later.
The Mays household held two dower slaves when in 1820, the legislature passed a law forbidding the emancipation of slaves within the state except by an act of law; even a single emancipation effectively required a bill. This law was in response to the growing number of Free People of Color (FPOC) in South Carolina and the fears by whites of an uprising. These free blacks were several generations old, emancipated by private or public manumission, or born free, and they lived and worked alongside thousands of enslaved blacks who were hired out to use various skilled trades. Their labor was to produce wealth for their owners in the city or on large rice plantations in the surrounding wetlands or in building homes, furnitures, dress and boot-making. Free and enslaved even worked closely on the many ships taking port in the city.
The City of Charleston, 1855. May by J.H. Colton & Co.
The South Carolina General Assembly’s ban was in response to the growing power of FPOC who were openly expressing their desires against inequitable laws like the capitation tax by using petitions and their organizing power gained in various fraternal societies and churches. In 1820, a group of free negros and persons of color wrote a petition asking that they not be charged capitation tax because they already paid taxes on property they owned. They were being double-taxed. Free people of color had certain freedoms guaranteed under the state’s Bill of Rights, which included the freedom to petition, but it did not include suffrage (the right to vote). Their pleas to be taxed less went unanswered, largely because the city needed the money and whites were right to fear an uprising.
In 1822, while Abraham Ashe and James Mays plied their trades a plot was discovered amongst the enslaved people of Charleston and surrounding plantations, led by a wealthy carpenter and influential free man of color named Denmark Vesey. Born a slave in St. Thomas, Denmark was traded in Haiti twice and then back to his original enslaver Captain Joseph Vesey who took him back to Charleston. Originally known as Telemaque, Denmark was educated and well-respected in his community. He became famous when he won a $1500 lottery in 1779, a sum significant enough to purchase his freedom of Capt. Vesey’s wife and start a carpentry business. He became a leader in the African Methodist church (A.M.E.) and when frustrated by his inability to purchase his wife and children out of slavery began to work with enslaved leaders and other FPOC to devise a plot to destroy the institution of slavery in South Carolina.
Modeled on the Haitian revolt which had previously transfixed the slave south and transformed the West Indies between 1790 and 1805, the conspirators even wrote two letters to the black President of Haiti inviting their support. It was one of the largest planned slave uprisings in American history and was supposed to liberate thousands of participants. Denmark was betrayed more than once by loyal slaves; over 130 FPOC and dozens of conspirators were arrested and tried in show-trials. In the end, 34 men were hanged including Vesey, dozens more were banished outside of the state, sold into slavery. Both slaves and FPOC who rioted at the hangings were brutalized. The A.M.E. church that Vesey worshipped at was closed, raised to the ground, and the city approved a 150 strong militia to be housed at “the Citadel” just outside the city on Boundary street, not coincidentally in the heart of a free black neighborhood known as “Charleston’s Neck.” This uprising in the Summer of 1822 shifted the legislature’s mindset completely about the community of free people of color in Charleston.
There were many dire consequences for black institutions and people. The General Assembly passed an act prohibiting free blacks from returning to the state if they left it, effectively quarantining FPOC. Also, every free man of color over the age of fifteen had to get a white “guardian” who was to appear before the county court to attest to the free man’s good character and accept guardianship. I have found no records for whom Abraham Ashe’s guardian might have been – the South Carolina Archives does not have them for Charleston County, but there are clues in his later life as we’ll see.
Sometime between 1827 and 1830, perhaps mortified and inspired by the Denmark Vesey affair, or desirous to escape the hot humid swampy atmosphere in the low country, James Mays decided to relocate his family inland to the mountains in the O’Neal district north of Greenville township in South Carolina. This area was known as “the dark corner” because of its remoteness, and the law of the land was white supremacy. Though he retained his grocery in Charleston for several years. He may have been interested in distilling according to records. Using the profits from his grocery, which likely also included a tavern (notices in the newspaper invited James to reapply for a liquor license), James took his wife, sister-in-law, and his enslaved people with him, including Cretia and her daughter. Mays was 46. Abraham, a free man of color, age 55, was left behind. He may have continued to work the tavern for Mays or hire himself out, his profession wasn’t entirely clear, but Mays abandonment of Charleston would cost Abraham dearly.
ABRAHAM, CRETIA, AND ANN.
A genetic revelation leads me to believe that Abraham Ashe and Cretia Bouchonneau became partners, and had a child between 1819 and 1820, probably the same enslaved girl listed in the 1820 census in the household of James Mays and his wife Elizabeth Bouchonneau. Though Abraham Ashe gained his freedom from James Mays in 1807, he remained very close to James, he likely continued to work for him at the grocery and tavern at 3 Tradd Street for many years, and yet after the terror of the Vesey affair, he could not prevent his own enslaved family from being taken away when the Mays left Charleston. After more than a dozen years of acquaintance, this must have been seen as a terrible betrayal. As we’ll see, though Abraham raised money for other transactions, including purchasing enslaved people himself, James Mays and Elizabeth Bouchonneau-Mays were not willing to leave Cretia and her daughter behind with Abraham.
The author outside 3 Tradd Street in Charleston, the grocery and tavern of James Mays between 1805 and 1830 where Abraham Ashe and Cretia Bochonneau labored for enslaver James Mays.
Recently, as I explored my Ancestry DNA matches of black descendants with roots in antebellum Charleston, I discovered a few cousins whose line stretches back to a postbellum black family with the same surname “Ashe”. This family were free people of color with connections to Col. John S. Ashe’s plantations just outside the city in St. Paul’s Parish. The head of household of the Ashe family in 1870 was a black sloop captain named Jacob Ashe from Toogoodoo Creek on Edisto Island. Was our common ancestor Abraham Ashe? The fact that these DNA match cousins are also related to several other known descendants of the enslaved woman Mariah Few of Greenville, Jim Mays’ mother, seems to indicate so.
The relocation of the grocer turned planter James Mays and his family to Greenville marked a tragic but seemingly inevitable split between Abraham Ashe and the Mays family exposing one of the worst consequences of American chattel slavery, the destruction of stable family relationships and interior lives of people of African descent. Despite the nominal freedom they could achieve, their lives and labor were truly not theirs to command, whether free or enslaved. Enslaved people had no right to resist; as chattel property they could be bought, sold, transported at will tearing apart mothers from children, husbands from wives, fathers from daughters. Neither the family bonds of enslaved or FPOC were recognized under South Carolinian law, only the whim of the master. Though blacks pursued workarounds – in 1815 free black Methodists were discovered pooling their money to buy enslaved congregants – there was never a guarantee that an enslaver would make a deal.
Just north of Greenville in the O’neal District, James Mays and his family were prospering by 1830, largely because he held 10 people in bondage working fields and mills to produce distilled alcohol for sale in Charleston. The Mays were members of Milford Baptist Church, including several of his enslaved. Among several names of James May’s enslaved people I documented there is a woman named Ann. In 1833, Ann was first mentioned in the Milford Baptist Church minutes notably for not receiving a baptism; she would have been about 27 years old. Richard, one of Mays enslaved, was received so perhaps Ann was not baptised because there was something disagreeable about her character, a critical judgement baptists observed. Baptist churches were strict about their laws for white and black members, for both enslaver and enslaved. In fact, just a few years later in 1837, the minutes show that Julius, another enslaved man of James Mays was actually excommunicated from Milford Baptist Church for adultery, which is unusual given his slave status. Perhaps Julius was married to Ann or even Cretia – from later records, I learned Julius’s estimated birth date was about 1805 and Cretia would likely be close in age. So what could have disqualified Ann?
Prior genetic genealogy research on my black Mays line of Greenville revealed that I was descended from an enslaved woman on the Mays plantation who was raped by a neighboring planter and enslaver named Hardy Jones Gilreath producing a mixed-race child. Despite having his own white wife, Gilreath was a serial rapist of several slaves he owned and apparently that included slaves of his O’neal District neighbor James Mays. It was well known then and in the present that Gilreath fathered several mulatto children. However, my research has recently added among those children my unidentified 3x great grandfather who with Mariah Few fathered my great-great grandfather Jim Mays named for his family’s enslaver, the Englishman James Mays. I now believe Hardy’s victim was none other than Ann, and that she was the daughter of Cretia and Abraham, perhaps named for Felicity Ann Bouchonneau. This may explain my genetic connections to other Ashe family descendants. If Ann Ashe was Jim’s grandmother, then Cretia and Abraham would be my 5th great grandparents. This lines up with the presence of a predicted 5th generation shared ancestor with my DNA match cousins who also descend from a line of black Ashe family members from Charleston.
Sadly, James Mays plantation book and records did not survive. The Milford Baptist Church minutes are the only records naming Mays enslaved in Greenville between 1833 and 1865 when he passed away. Much of my work has been to reconstruct my Mays family through genetic evidence between the records. Cretia Bouchonneau-Ashe and Ann Ashe probably died before Emancipation. I feel fortunate that the Mays took their enslaved to the church, and that the recorder of minutes thought to include them, otherwise there would be no extant material about them other than Sarah’s 1811 will to illuminate their lives. Cretia’s daughter Ann was the property of James Mays because slavery was matrilineal. If Cretia survived, she is not mentioned in the church minutes at Milford, but on the 1830 slave schedule of James Mays are two enslaved women over the age of 35. I imagine they are mother and daughter, Cretia and Ann. Unfortunately, I have no further information about Ann’s life or even the name of her unidentified mulatto son with her enslaver’s neighbor, only genetic echos. I have now enlisted the help of another descendant of Hardy Jones Gilreath who has researched his mulatto Gilreath ancestor for many years to help find the identity of Ann Ashe’s son. The search goes on.
I can only imagine the agony Abraham and Cretia must have felt upon realizing James Mays was planning to move his family and separate theirs. But what happened to Abraham Ashe? As a free person of color, could Abraham have moved to Greenville to live near his enslaved family? Did he even try to purchase his Cretia and Ann away from Mays? Or was he forced to abandon Cretia and start over? What life did he live as a free man of color in Charleston after the Mays removed to Greenville? I wanted to know the complete story of my 5th great grandfather, and whether his legacy lived on.
A FREE MAN OF COLOR IN CHARLESTON.
Not long after the English immigrant James Mays left his sailing days behind and opened a store in downtown Charleston on Tradd Street, he purchased a slave named Abraham Ashe (1772 -1842) from a wealthy elite Charlestonian, the widow Elizabeth Ashe nee’ Daniel (1739 – 1820). It’s unclear if there was any relationship between James and the Ashe clan or if James simply purchased Abraham on an anonymous auction block – Charleston’s streets had several, and to sell a slave was an ordinary affair, like purchasing a horse. The widow Ashe was in her late 60s and controlled a vast collection of plantations including prime property in Charleston, and of course, dozens of enslaved, from domestic to field workers, gained through two prominent marriages.
Elizabeth Daniel first married the planter Nathan Legare (1739 – 1782) of Charleston County in 1774. It was Legare’s second marriage – he was first married to Mary Barksdale (1743 – 1769). At about the same time, South Carolina picked its delegates to the first Continental Congress. By 1770, Charleston was the largest city in the southern colonies, driven by South Carolina’s plantation economy. It was the center of the Atlantic slave trade, with slaves making up about half the population. Charleston processed around 40% of African slaves brought to North America. Its wealth made it a target for piracy and competition from French and Spanish forces. During the American Revolutionary War, General Sir Henry Clinton’s Philipsburg Proclamation encouraged enslaved people to escape and join the British Army. Nearly 25,000 enslaved individuals in South Carolina fled, migrated, or died—around 30% of the enslaved population of the state. After the British captured Charleston in 1780, black Loyalists formed regiments to defend the city. When the British retreated in 1782, over 5,000 black individuals left with them. While many remained enslaved under Loyalist ownership, some secured freedom by escaping to British lines and resettled in Canada, the Caribbean, or Sierra Leone.
Charleston Street, circa 1865. Source. Charleston County Public Library.
After Nathan’s death, Elizabeth Legare, now 44, married her cousin in 1783, the Hon. Capt. John Ashe Jr. (1742 – 1800). The captain was a lawyer and the elder son of Major General John Baptiste Ashe of New Hanover, North Carolina who was infamous for destroying a British garrison at Fort Johnston near Wilmington during the Revolution. Captain Ashe and Elizabeth Ashe lived at 12 Lamboll Street close to the Battery in Charleston.
“Married: On Thursday, the 23d ult., in Christ Church Parish, near this city, the Hon. John Ashe, Esq., elder son of the late Major-General Ashe, of North Carolina, to Mrs. Elizabeth Legare, relict of Mr. Nathan Legare, a lady possessed of every amiable qualification that can render the marriage state happy.” (Thursday, November 13, 1783.)
Capt. Ashe died before 1800 making Elizabeth a widow for a second time. When Elizabeth Ashe died herself in 1821 she willed her Lamboll street home and outhouses, along with her enslaved, to be sold to benefit her two daughters from her first marriage. The estate sale further advertised “24 Prime Country-Born Negros” and several house servants. The executors of the estate of Elizabeth Ashe sold three sets of slaves in June 1821 no doubt breaking up several families.
While it’s not known how exactly Abraham Ashe purchased his freedom from James Mays, or whether he was manumitted privately, he became a free person of color between 1807-1810 and remained in the city of Charleston, likely in the employ of James Mays. We know now that he likely had a daughter with the enslaved woman Cretia, named Ann, but when the Mays left for Greenville, Abraham remained behind.
Tracking him through census records, court records, bills of sale, land deeds, I learned that there was more than meets the eye to Abraham Ashe. Perhaps in his long service to Capt. Ashe and Elizabeth Ashe, he became educated and shrewd. Documents suggest he was born in Haiti, so we know he spoke French and English. Many of the enslaved who were refugees with their white plantation owners from Haiti to Charleston were educated, some were their mulatto children. Abraham may have been able to read and write; he signed his own name to several contracts. Throughout his life, he would do business with some of Charleston’s most established families and held status among the community of free people of color. His signature contained a flourish that marked him as singular, a person with a certain self-identified status. The “A” is prominently featured between his first and surname. The serif signature with the sharply pointed downward crossbar expresses pride, understanding, and a certain amount of panache. It feels foreign yet familiar, like a choice and a promise. It is Abraham’s brand.
Abraham Ashe’s mark with the “A” on the 1811 complaint filed with the South Carolina Court of Equity. Ashe was educated, but may not have been literate.
Abraham Ashe doesn’t appear on the 1810 and 1820 census, but he is found in numerous financial and court records. After gaining his freedom, he would on three separate occasions purchase slaves himself between 1816 and 1835. That formerly enslaved people, or free people color would purchase slaves themselves is shocking. It would have been shocking to many self-liberated people at the time, to abolitionists in the North, even perhaps to whites from the interior slave states. For South Carolinians, who lived in an interdependent slave society however, this was not uncommon, especially among the small group of wealthier FPOC in Charleston who were often property owners and tradesmen. Sometimes free people of color purchased slaves for the domestic slave trade, domestic help, and sometimes they purchased family members to secure their freedom, making them nominal or slaves “in name only.” There were as many reasons as there were classes of people in antebellum Charleston.
Abraham appeared to purchase slaves at a very low rate with no evidence of trading indicating that some of his purchases may have been family members. I believe Abraham was likely hired out by Elizabeth Ashe and had some savings, because not long after he gained his freedom from James Mays, he began to purchase slaves. His first slave purchase was for an enslaved man named July for $50 on March 29, 1810 of Joseph Alexander. He even had his former master James Mays as witness to the purchase. The price for July would indicate a very elderly man, long past his prime making me wonder if July was a family member. The low price may have seemed a bargain, but in actuality, Abraham was swindled.
Bill of Sale, 1810. Joseph Alexander to Abraham Ashe, “July” a negro man, witnessed by James Mays.
A few weeks later Abraham Ashe petitioned the Court of Equity in Charleston regarding July. Ashe claimed he purchased July and received a Bill of Sale, which was recorded on the same day. Records of the legal case explain Joseph Alexander was the bona fide purchaser unaware of any claims against the property. However, the local Sheriff seized July after the sale due to a mortgage claim held by another man, John Findley, which was linked to the estate of the Reverend Bishop Smith, the first President of the College of Charleston. When Rev. Smith died, he held enslaved more than 200 people, July among them. Ashe argued that the executors of Bishop Smith’s estate, and others, lost their claim to July due to their negligence. Abraham petitioned the court for an injunction to prevent the sale of the property until claims could be properly investigated. In a precise several page petition made by Ashe he argued the executors’ failure to initiate legal proceedings within four years forfeited their rights, thus protecting Alexander’s ownership. It is unclear if he won his petition. I find no further records suggesting July was ever returned to Abraham.
Ashe’s petition was a turning point document. Here was a former slave, with his former enslaver as witness, purchasing a slave, then defending an unlawful seizure of his property in a written petition signed by “Bay” solicitor for the complainant and sworn before “W. H. G.” (William Hassell Gibbs). “Bay” was likely Honorable Elihu Hall Bay (1754 – 1838) who later filled the office of the Associate Justice of the Court of General Sessions and Common Pleas. Judge Gibbs (1754 – 1834) studied in London and was one of thirty Americans in London that petitioned the King against acts of parliament which was one of the factors in the Revolution. When the war broke out, he escaped London through Bermuda and returned to Charleston. His father was part of the Secret Committee of 5 of the Council of Safety in Charleston at the beginning of the revolution – a group of Charleston elites who preserved government during the revolution. Gibbs was a Captain during the war and admitted to the bar in 1783 and remained head of Chancery until 1825.
In 1816 Abraham struck out to purchase another enslaved man named Mick for $400 from James Gibson, a coachmaker and planter on nearby Goose Creek. The purchase price suggested Mick was in his prime and more likely to be hired out by Abraham, if he wasn’t also a family member. Records show James Gibson hired out an enslaved girl to the local orphanage in 1804. It was difficult and challenging to learn Abraham was participating in the slave trade clearly to benefit himself. Of course Abraham had his whole life seen people of color purchasing slaves in Haiti or in Charleston as a norm. How had Abraham raised the money? How did he deploy Mick? There are no ready and easy answers, but Mick may have also been permitted to hire himself out which would enable him to keep a portion of his wages. Blacks could not free enslaved people, if Mick had raised enough money, Abraham would have been prohibited from freeing him and Mick would be a nominal slave “in name only.” Since Mick doesn’t appear in Abraham’s probate in an inventory of property after his death, we can conclude Mick was either free, self-liberated, or dead by 1842.
A year later in 1817, Ashe had another transaction with the Honorable W.H. Gibbs. Ashe entered into a mortgage agreement with Gibbs when he was Master in Equity in Charleston, South Carolina. Ashe secured an $800 loan (with interest) using a Lot 18 on Boundary Street as collateral under a $1600 bond. If Ashe failed to repay, the Court had the right to take ownership of the property. The property was part of a large sale by the College of Charleston along Boundary Street. Abraham was identified as a “free person of color” on the bond agreement. Other FPOC made similar purchases of the college at this sale. This was a business transaction built on some level of trust in Ashe’s ability to payback the loan. Perhaps in his service to John Ashe, the lawyer, Abraham picked up an understanding that he had access to the Court to help materialize his plans. These records, petition, bill of sale, and mortgage bond demonstrate that Abraham was made familiar with his rights under the law, the opportunities he had as a free man of color (and the extent to which he could use them), and that he was willing to utilize and challenge Charleston’s systems to defend his limited rights. It shows tremendous agency that matched his mark.
On the 1830 census, Abraham Ashe is no doubt recorded as the free man of color between the ages 55 and 100 years old. A free man of color between 24 and 35 years also lives with him, and 3 boys under 10, along with free women between 24 and 35 and 55 – 99, and two girls under 10. There are also 4 enslaved in the home, 2 women between 24 and 35, and 1 male between 10 and 23. It’s likely some were different family units, and boarding with Abraham. The household’s size and makeup was not uncommon for Charleston. Free people of color and enslaved mixed freely in the city. Slaves were often hired out from plantations, and living on their own in the city, sending wages back to their enslavers, renting rooms from local FPOC. Families might consist of both free and enslaved, and free people of color who owned property often boarded. It can be hard to distinguish families without further records.
Though I believe the enslaved woman Cretia Bouchanneau may have been his earliest identified partner, Abraham marred twice more later in life. The first documented wife was a woman named Clary. She is identified on a contract of indenture of a mulatto boy Sam in 1830. For $100 Abraham and Clary were both to have indenture “until the boy reaches 21 years of age.” This record shows Abraham’s intention to hire out to raise income, though for what labor is unclear.
Contract of indenture of “Sam” to Abraham Ashe and his first wife “Clary” witnessed by John B. Legare, 1830. The contract shows Abraham as actively dealing with the Legare family. Clary died shortly after.
Incidentally, another free woman of color known as Clara Ashe was head of the household that consisted of 20 other FPOC and one male slave between 10 and 23 years old as listed on the 1820 census. It is the same year Abraham Ashe is not listed on the census, though we know he is in the city and living at his property on Boundary street. On the 1850 census she is listed as 105 years old, born in Africa. Her last address was in the household of John Simons, another free man of color, and very likely her son-in-law. Simons may have been married to Clara’s daughter, Clarissa (1785 – 1833). Clarissa may be the same woman Col. John S. Ashe sold to William H. Gibbs in 1813 for 5 shillings, clearly an inside trade with other motives beyond the usual slave trading, a mistress or illegitimate child perhaps? According to records Clara Ashe died between 90 and 105 years old in 1853. Abraham’s wife Clary probably died before 1831 or 32.
On his third and last purchase of enslaved people in 1835, Abraham Ashe agreed to pay $400 for the enslaved woman Susannah and her three children; William, Clarissa, and Tyra all held in bond between Joseph Allen Smith and Thomas Middleton. Records eventually helped identify this grouping as being very special to Abraham.
In all his dealings, he became a property owner, an enslaver, he knew the law, why didn’t Abraham purchase Cretia and Ann? I think the answer is simple. James Mays and Elizabeth Bouchanneau wouldn’t sell them. Mays was not a large slaveholder and Cretia and Ann would have been instrumental to their household. The Bouchnanneau’s were French and Cretia probably also spoke the language. To Elizabeth and Felicity Ann, Cretia would have been their ultimate servant, as an appendage and servant to their needs, inseparable.
STATUS AND DEBT.
How did Abraham Ashe, this once enslaved person rise to the ranks among Charleston’s elite free people of color? In certain records, he signs his signature in full. In another, he uses a flourish with “A” in the center of his signature. Abraham was clearly educated, could possibly read and write, and was a shrewd negotiator who understood the law and how to use the courts. He was familiar with contracts and understood business. Was it a level of station gained as being formerly enslaved by the Ashe family that lent him his status? Was he perhaps a valet or assistant to the Hon. Capt. John Ashe Esquire? His familiarity with the law and financial agreements suggest Abraham may have learned a lot from his enslaver Capt. Ashe. He may have also had the guidance of the refugee community of free blacks from Haiti in Charleston, and the patronage of white Haitian refugees.
Historian Bernard Powers writes in Black Charlestonians, A Social History, 1822-1885, “Elite free persons of color formed a highly group conscious and exclusive segment within the larger free Afro-American population. They had an appreciation for Charlestons’ aristocratic traditions but this did not necessarily lead to a disavowal of racial pride or heritage. As an artisan-elite, they were imbued with the Protestant ethic and confidently embraced the idea of self-help as the vehicle for individual and group advancement.”
I’m not certain why Abraham Ashe doesn’t appear regularly on local capitation tax records, as required by all Charleston’s free people of color who annually paid $2 to the city. Digitized capitation records begin after 1840 and are incomplete. However, there is an example according to Powers where a free person of color was made exempt from taxation by the Mayor. Frustratingly, Abraham Ashe also does not appear in Charleston City Directories from 1816 – 1830, which included other FPOC and their occupation. Yet records show he became a property owner in Charleston by 1820. Did he hire himself out? Did he apprentice? I have yet to find his trade and occupation. The City of Charleston retains records of income statements of slave hires including self-hires from 1800 – 1865 that I have yet to explore.
In 1817, in a financial arrangement between Abraham Ashe and a white Charlestonian merchant and lawyer, William Hasell Gibbs, Ashe agreed to pay Gibbs a sum of $800 with interest, as stipulated in a bond. In case of default, Gibbs was granted the right to occupy and possess the property that Ashe mortgaged from the College of Charleston, two lots, 18 and 19 with a loan he secured from Ann Legare, the white daughter of his former enslaver Elizabeth Ashe. The agreement was signed and sealed on April 22, 1817.
In short, Ashe made a mortgage bond and records show Ash paid principal and interest to Ann Legare from 1821 to 1827 annually. Gibbs and Ann’s brother Daniel Legare were witnesses. Ashe’s lots on Boundary street were next door to lots owned by the Brown Fellowship Society, a society for free people of color who identified as “mulattos” descendants of black and whites in Charleston. The Fellowship was the earliest known black fraternal group in Charleston dating to 1790. It had just 50 members who each paid $50 to join and had to go through 3 rounds of voting to be inducted. To avoid the scrutiny of whites, discussing politics was forbidden. The elite society included Jehu Jones, a well known minister and innkeeper whose hotel was frequented by whites and blacks; Richard Holloway was a FPOC from Maryland who settled in Charleston. Holloway was also part of a benevolent charitable society that operated schools for black orphans called the Minor’s Moralist Society in the Neck. Like Ashe, Holloway also purchased “college lands” when the College of Charleston sold some its land on Boundary Street in 1817.
Richard Holloway (1776 -1845)Jehu Jones (1769 – 1833)
As a free man of color who owned property that included the enslaved, Abraham Ashe held a high status among black Charlestonians. He clearly used his status when in 1818, he and over a dozen other Methodists of color petitioned for the creation of their own cemetery in the village of Wragg Borough, north of Boundary Street (date unknown). Brown Fellowship Society members Charles Corr, and Malcolm Brown, were fellow petitioners for the burial ground. Just before in 1816, the majority of black methodists in Charleston, numbering in the thousands, left the white segregated Methodist church in one fell swoop to establish their own independent African methodist church.
Abraham Ashe is among the petitioners -“Methodists” (free men of color) – to purchase two lots to use as a cemetery in Wraggs Borough north of Boundary Street, circa 1818.
They were no doubt influenced by the knowledge of the establishment of the African Methodist Episcopal Church in Philadelphia. Powerful “class leaders” white and black maintained strict attendance of Methodists and scholar John Saillant believed this level of surveillance on blacks, free and enslaved, maintained secular and spiritual power over blacks in Charleston. The same group formed an independent methodist church and it was their second petition to have their own burial ground that Abraham joined. The petition was also signed by Bishop Morris Brown. It passed in the House but failed in the Senate. According to Saillant, Brown was working in the city secretly to establish an outpost of the AME as well. Not coincidentally, Denmark Vesey became a homestyle class leader and preacher of radical liberation theology at this time at the African church. Charleston’s white leaders moved to break up this church in 1818 and arrested dozens of members.
Brown Fellowship Society Cemetery, Charleston.
Throughout his life, Abraham Ashe often had to deal with powerful white figures in Charleston society; they were elite whites who included planters, lawyers, traders, merchants, state representatives and judges. For example, he did business with Thomas Middleton III, of the same family behind Middleton Place, at which between 2,600 and 3,200 slaves labored from 1738 to 1865. James H. Ladson, a well-known attorney, was an executor and appeared twice in key roles in Abraham’s dealings suggesting a certain amount of patronage. Ladson was also a planter of cotton and rice and held over 200 enslaved people in his lifetime. Ladson famously used religious instruction to gain obedience from his enslaved. He was also a consul to the Danish and Director at the State Bank. Ladson was also a proponent of “States Rights” and served as the vice-president of the Great Southern Rights and Southern Co-Operation Meeting in Charleston in 1851.
Notice of Sheriff’s Sale of goods of Mrs. Wilson, a tenant of Abraham Ashe. Southern Patriot 1821.
Though Abraham doesn’t appear in capitation tax records, his appearances on the financial records show he was a landlord in 1821, renting to a “Mrs. Wilson.” Scrupulous, he arranged to have some of her goods sold to pay back rent. The Constable’s sale was advertised in the Southern Patriot. Neither Abraham nor Wilson were referred to as “colored” in the ad, though it was the norm.
Ashe himself had a history of difficulties as a property owner that led to several actions in Charleston’s Court of Equity. Abraham got into trouble over property in Charleston’s Ward 3 that he mortgaged after securing a loan from Ann Legare, the daughter of his one-time enslaver Elizabeth Ashe in 1821. The loan was against one of two lots of land he purchased that were formerly owned by the College of Charleston, lot 17 and 18 on the corner of Coming and Boundary Street. Presumably Mrs. Wilson lived in one of them. Though he agreed to make regular annual payments to Legare, Abraham was wildly inconsistent, only ever paying about $600 against the $1200 mortgage loan in odd sums. Legare eventually sued him in the Court of Equity in 1841.
“Ann Legare seeks the court’s assistance in collecting a debt from Abraham Ashe, “a free colored man.” Ashe became indebted to the petitioner in the amount of $1,200 in 1822. He mortgaged a lot of land in Charleston to secure the bond, which has recently become due. Legare now complains that Ashe “refuses” to pay her and has set up “various pretexts to delay and defeat your Oratrixes just claim.” Legare asks that the mortgage on the land be foreclosed and that Ashe “be Decreed to pay to your Oratrix all such sums of money as may appear to your Honors to be due to your Oratrix.”
Ashe’s lots on Boundary Street, later renamed Calhoun Street, were originally owned by the College of Charleston and was bounded by Benjamin T. Huger to the South, Walter Knox, to the East. Huger, a free person of color, tailor and Brown Fellowship Society member, had lot 17 surveyed in 1835 because he believed Ashe’s lot trespassed on his own land. Incidentally, Huger himself had 14 FPOC and 8 enslaved in his household on the 1830 census – probably boarders. The Brown Fellowship Society owned lots on the opposite side of Huger’s land.
Survey (1835) of Abraham Ashe and Benjamin Huger Lots on Boundary Street, Charleston.
In 1836, Abraham Ashe found himself before the Supreme Court of South Carolina over his debts where he managed to get the better of the situation. The case of John A. Cook vs. Abram Ashe involved a lawsuit over an account of $115.50. Ashe argued the debt was barred by the Statute of Limitations. The key witness, Thomas Legare, testified that Ashe acknowledged the debt and promised to pay in installments but could not specify the amount or details. Cook confirmed the accuracy of his account records.
The court determined that Ashe’s general acknowledgment of the debt did not specifically revive accounts from 1827 and 1828, which were already barred by the statute. Only accounts from 1829 and 1830, still within the four-year limitation, could remain enforceable. A new trial was ordered unless Cook agreed to reduce the judgment by $88, representing the barred accounts, leaving about $26 recoverable for the more recent accounts.
Sheriff’s sale of “lot of land to be sold” in Ann Legare vs. Abraham Ashe.
When in 1841, Ashe’s debts finally caught up with him, the Equity Court granted Ann Legare’s petition and Lot 18 and 17, on Boundary Street, was foreclosed, seized by the Court of Equity and sold in a sheriff’s sale which advertised “two lots and small wooden houses…known as Nos. 107 and 109.”
ABRAHAM’S LEGACY.
A few days before Christmas, Abraham Ashe died a year later on the 18th of December in 1842 at the age of 70. According to death records he died of dropsy or edema, a swelling of his limbs symptomatic of heart disease or kidney failure. His death record states he was “free”, born in December 1772, and was buried at the African Burial Ground. He lived almost twice the average lifespan of a free white man of his time, and three times the average lifespan of a slave. Ashe bequeathed his entire estate to his lawyer, James H. Ladson. Ladson dutifully invited all debtors to come forth, but there was nothing left of material value in Ashe’s estate except his enslaved.
1843, will of Abraham Ashe, transcribed by the Works Progress Administration.
When the probate was conducted, William $300, Maria $200, and Abram $150 were inventoried by Ladson in June 1843. J. M. Hume, owner of Hopsewee Plantation on the Santee River, George H. Ingraham, and Alonza J. White (slave trader), respectively, were witnesses and most likely appraisers of the inventory. Did the men have their eye on Abraham’s invaluable legacy for purchase themselves? The values associated with these enslaved people, William, Maria, and Abram, are a tell-tale sign that they were not yet “prime,” still just children. Was William the son of Susannah, the enslaved woman Abraham purchased in 1835? Was Abram, named for Abraham Ashe? Susannah was not listed. Had she died?
I wondered what happened to the children but the paper trail grew cold. Ladson was an enslaver himself and participated in several sales of enslaved people as a purchaser between 1843 and 1847, but there are no records of the sale of William, Maria, and Abram, not even in the “disposal” of Ashe’s property. I felt that any answers about the outcomes of these individuals might lie in records in the distant future, after the Civil War and emancipation of the nation’s enslaved blacks. Certain records, like those of the Freedmen’s Bureau often captured the very first details of untold thousands of formerly enslaved. I reasoned that I might find the children by searching for references to Abraham Ashe after 1865 during Reconstruction of the union.
After finding references to only the white Ashe family of Charleston, led by Col. John A. S. Ashe in the Bureau records, I feared the worst.
I moved on to a recordset I seldom use, the Freedman’s Savings Bank records. A search for “Abraham Ashe” immediately came back with results. Abraham Ash (no “e”) appeared in one record in 1870. It was a revelation. This simple record offered a genealogist all he could hope for! It expanded Abraham’s story and legacy over multiple generations to the present day. The record extended his family’s story geographically far beyond the slave state of South Carolina to the free states of Pennsylvania and New York. The document was a testimony to the power of familial bonds and revealed the exciting identities of William, Maria, and Abram.
***
In 1870, a black woman named Maria Louisa Julius, age 38, wife of William Alexander Julius (a waiter) opened an account at the Freedmen’s Bank in New York City. Her address was 20 East 21st street in the heart of the Flatiron District in Manhattan, but she had grown up in Philadelphia according to the record. The private bank which was chartered at the Civil War’s close was supposed to assist the newly emancipated to establish their financial identity, deposit their earnings from new labor contracts and the bounties of US Colored Troops. At first the bank prospered, eventually collecting millions in savings from over 100,000 depositors that would be worth about US $1 billion today. Risky investments in railroad bonds and fraud heightened by the panic of 1873 helped the bank fail by 1874 dashing the hopes and savings of thousands of African Americans. Along with the retraction of the promise of 40 acres and a mule, the wonton rise of the violent retribution by whites in the South, and failure of Reconstruction freed men and women came to feel America was perhaps incapable of keeping its commitment to them as citizens. Yet, in the hope of a simple banking account, blacks placed their futures and recorded their pasts.
The account paperwork required Maria Louisa Julius to identify her parents, siblings, along with any other relevant details so they could access the account. On countless records this information can appear sketchy, often left blank, but Maria Louisa had a lot to share – it is as if her excitement in opening the bank account drove her to “overshare” using today’s slang.
Freedman’s Bank Record, 1870. Maria Louisa Julius nee’ Ashe lists all family members, including her father Abraham Ashe and mother Susannah Ashe.
On November 28, 1870, Maria Louisa Julius, a 38-year-old resident of New York City, recorded her details with the Freedmen’s Savings & Trust Bank. She lived at 2o East 21st street in the Flat Iron district. Born in Charleston, she reported that she was raised in Philadelphia, and was the wife of William Alexander Julius, a waiter. She wrote that her father, Abraham Ash, died 31 years earlier, and her mother, Susan, died a year later. She listed siblings, both alive and deceased. William (a machinist in Western California), Abraham (a boot maker in Philadelphia), Rebecca (married to Henry L. Price in Philadelphia), and Isabella (married to Thomas Peace in Charleston) were all living. Other family members, including Elizabeth and Christopher, were deceased.
The bank record confirms that William, Maria, and Abram, the enslaved property of Abraham Ashe that were inventoried after his death in 1842 thirty years earlier, were in fact his children, and that Susan was their mother. Recall that in 1835 in a tripartite agreement, Abraham Ashe agreed to pay $400 in bond to Thomas Middleton who purchased of Joseph Allen Smith (Izard) four enslaved people, Susannah and her children,William, Tyra, and Clarissa. Middleton was a trustee holding these nominal slaves.
“The bill of sale is made out to me with the understanding that when the amount of bond given by me for $400 for purchase of the within negroes is paid up by Abraham Ashe – then the right of property becomes vested in said Abraham Ashe.”
Izard’s attorney was none other than James H. Ladson, Esq. Perhaps this is where Abraham Ashe first became acquainted with Ladson and why he entrusted him to be administrator of his estate, which included his children. Free people of color had to have “Guardians” in Charleston, white men and women who could vouch for them; perhaps Ladson was Ashe’s “Guardian.” Thomas Middleton (1797 – 1863) was the third son of Honorable Thomas Middleton, and grandson of Henry Middleton who established Middleton Place’s gardens after inheriting the plantation from his father-in-law John Williams. This Thomas Middleton was a merchant and lawyer, and a member of the powerful Middleton family who held vast plantations with hundreds of enslaved peoples across the region. His mother and first wife were Izards. Joseph Allen Smith Izard (1810 -1879) was the son of Joseph Allen Smith, a famous diplomat. Smith (who later used Izard as his last name) graduated from West Point, fought in the Seminole War and became owner of rice plantations including Recess Plantation on the Savannah Back River in St. Peter’s Parish, and appears to have shipped slaves out of the port of Savannah. He held property in Charleston as well.
We could stop once again to ponder how Abraham no doubt secured this remarkable deal between Charleston elites like Ladson, Middleton and Izard, and how Abraham came to have a wife and children with an enslaved woman purchased on his behalf in trust by Middleton. More intriguing is the connection between the two documents that appear to show Abraham’s purchases of enslaved people was likely focused on securing his family. Two records, the 1835 bond agreement and the 1870 Freedmen’s Bank Record forge a powerful connection across 35 years. Together they are a keystone that unravels the Ashe family life from slavery to freedom, before and beyond the Civil War.
Bank records can be sparse, but Maria Louisa‘s went into great detail stating valuable information; Abraham and Susannah were her parents and several other siblings, including in-laws, were living or dead, and she shared their current locations in 1870. The 6 siblings known to her included William,Abraham Jr. “Abram”, Rebecca, Isabella, Elizabeth, and Christopher. By 1850 Rebecca was living in Philadelphia with her husband Henry L. Price, a carpenter. So was Abraham Jr. At the same time, Isabella was living in Charleston with her husband Thomas Peace. Elizabeth and Christopher had passed away before 1870 according to Maria Louisa. Her brother William, likely the eldest, was a machinist living somewhere in western California. Abraham Jr. who went by “Abram” or possibly “Charles”, his middle name, was also living in Philadelphia with his wife Ann M. where he was a boot maker.
Abraham Ashe must have met the $400 bond payment in full to Thomas Middleton for Susannah, and her children and therefore owned Susannah and all her increase, which would include her later born children, Maria Louisa and Abram, Elizabeth and Christopher. We can infer that their mother Susannah somehow became free or died before 1842 actually. She wasn’t mentioned in Abraham Ashe’s will or probate, she was not listed as property nor made an heir. Maria Louisa said Susannah died a year after Abraham. Abraham could not make his enslaved children his heirs either. Because of a 1820 South Carolina law, he could not have manumitted them. Enslaved family members became nominal slaves, in name only. Most likely Susannah, and her other 3 children, Clarissa, Isabella, and Tyra had achieved some other status and were no longer enslaved or the property of Abraham Senior. Perhaps they were married and living as FPOC in Charleston.
Apparently, Abraham’s first wife Clary died between 1832 and 1835 before Abraham entered into the bond to purchase Susannah. Susannah’s children William, Clarissa, and Tyra (as listed on the 1835 mortgage bond) were probably not Abraham’s biological children. According to Maria Louisa’s bank record, Susannah died a year after Abraham, between 1842-43. Some of the Ashe siblings were free, others still enslaved, so how did the enslaved orphans arrive in Philadelphia after their parent’s death if they were in the possession of James H. Ladson as estate inventory?
We know the Ashe children had a very strong incentive to leave Charleston, and slave states all together. In 1841, South Carolina’s legislature passed The Act to Prevent the Emancipation of Slaves. This Act prohibited testamentary emancipation, and it also voided all bequests to slaves, closing loopholes that enslavers with abolitionist tendencies had exploited for years to emancipate their slaves. Section IV states, “That every device or bequest, to a slave or slaves, or to any person, upon a trust or confidence, secret or expressed, for the benefit of any slave or slaves, shall be null and void.”
In 1846, Charleston established a police force identifying serious punishments for both slave and free persons of color who resisted arrest, “twenty lashes on the bare back at the public market.” Also, capitation taxes increased from $2 to $5 annually for every free person of color over the age of 18. The freedoms FPOC enjoyed were dwindling as whites sought to curb their growth in reaction to the expanding nascent black freedom and growing abolitionism in free states like Delaware and Pennsylvania.
Did the elder Ashe siblings, go to James H. Ladson and broker a deal for their brothers William, Abram and sister Maria?
Though Charleston had been their home where the Ashes held high status that their father built up and strategically deployed to their benefit, that door had closed. With both their parents dead and no path to manumission, the future wasn’t bright for the Ashe children. Abraham’s lingering debts could put them on the auction block, separating them forever. I have no doubt that the eldest Ashe siblings and Abraham’s closest confidants, Ladson and perhaps men in the elite fraternal societies, or fellow church congregants conspired to arrange the escape of Abraham’s children from bondage.
***
Maria Louisa’s bank record revealed she had an older sister named Rebecca Ashe-Price (1822 – 1877). In 1850, Rebecca was living as a free person of color in Philadelphia when she first appeared on the census, classified as a “mulatto”, married mother of 3 with her husband Henry C. Price (1816 – 1872). At the time of her father’s death, she would have been about 20 years old. Since Rebecca wasn’t listed on Abraham’s inventory, I presume she was somehow free or unknown to the Probate Court (perhaps deliberately). We don’t know how old William was (I suspect he was at least a teenager) and other records show his siblings were much younger; Isabella was about 5 or 6, Maria Louisa, about 4 or 5, Abraham Jr. was about 3-4 years old. They were all just children. His siblings Clarissa and Tyra, first listed on the 1835 record were also not listed in the probate inventory. Elizabeth and Christopher, the other siblings mentioned by Maria Louisa, were either dead or free themselves.
Abraham Ashe surely knew his death would lead to dire outcomes for his family, and placing his infant children into the care of Ladson was likely a very canny move. He was relying on the stature and wealth of the attorney to devise a plan for his children, they may have even planned it together and involved the children’s older siblings.
Rebecca Ashe-Price, with her husband Henry C. Price, took their young enslaved siblings to Pennsylvania between 1847 and 1850. Henry was older, and already a FPOC, when he paid the the 1826 Capitation Tax in Charleston while living on Cannon Street. Both Rebecca and Henry were classified “mulatto” in the 1850 and 1860 census and “white” on the 1870 censuses of Philadelphia. I suspect the Price family used their very light skin and status as free people of color to pass unmolested out of Charleston with their children, Henry Jr. and Isabella (named after Rebecca’s sister) and the orphaned Ashe youth, William, Maria, and Abram. The Prices may have packed everything up and taken a train or wagon North or perhaps they booked passage on a steamship out of Charleston Harbor.
They likely traveled alongside their friend and neighbor, William Cooper (1781–1852) and his family, also from Charleston. The Coopers appears in the 1847 Quaker census of Philadelphia. By 1850, census records indicate that Rebecca’s sons, Jacob and Benjamin, and her youngest daughter, Susan, were all born in Pennsylvania.
James H. Ladson’s role remains a mystery. Were the orphans purchased of Ladson by their siblings? There is no bill of sale on record. Were they liberated by one of the siblings prompting the exodus? There were no Runaway Slave ads placed in the papers. I believe the key to the orphans story may lie with William Cooper. Cooper was a boot maker and also a member of the Brown Fellowship Society. His wife and children were also formerly enslaved. The Cooper and Price family lived in the same tenement in South Philadelphia according to the 1850 census. William Cooper was also a member of the Minor Moralist Society. Bishop Daniel Alexander Payne of the A.M.E. wrote in Recollections of 70 Years, about the society.
“As early as 1803 the Minors’ Moralist Society was established in the city of Charleston by James Mitchell, Joseph Humphries, William Cooper, Carlos Huger, Thomas S. Bonneau, William Clark, and Richard Holloway–all free colored men. Its object was to educate orphan or indigent colored children, and also to provide for their necessary wants. It consisted of fifty members, who contributed five dollars each at first, and paid thereafter the monthly sum of twenty-five cents each. As many as six children were at one time receiving its care and attention. It continued in existence until 1847, when, from the decease of many useful members and other local causes, it ceased to exist; not, however, without having done much good which continues to manifest itself both in Church and State.”
Motivated by the mission of the Moralist society, I imagine that the Coopers and Price families worked together to devise a plan to secure the Ashe orphans’ freedom in the North, and that they all preferred their children to be raised in a free state. Cooper would have been sympathetic and eager to help; he purchased his second wife Hannah out of slavery, along with Hannah’s mother Lucretia, and her siblings July and Lavinia in 1829.
The Coopers were Presbyterian like other prominent FPOC – members of the Third Presbyterian Church in Charleston and in Philadelphia as well. The Price family were methodist. The foundations of Methodism though were anti-slavery and abolitionist, and the A.M.E. did not allow slaveholders. The A.M.E. and Quakers also worked with abolitionists to traffic fugitives out of slave states, including South Carolina. The A.M.E was active in Charleston and operated schools for free blacks until Bishop Alexander Payne of the church, himself a FPOC, was forced to leave the city in 1835 by worried white elites.
The Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 was an ever present threat. The Act was an attempt to enforce the Constitutional provision that required free states in the North to return fugitive slaves to the South. Slave catchers prowled the streets of every major northern city, especially Philadelphia. Whether Henry and Rebecca brokered a deal with Ladson, or used their own status as free people of color to escape North, the two families eventually adjusted to life in the free state of Pennsylvania by 1850. Henry Price continued his work as a house carpenter and William Cooper as a boot maker. Since the Ashe children – William, Maria, and Abram don’t appear on the 1850 census, I assume they were in hiding-probably in plain sight.
Maria Louisa finally appears on record, well after Emancipation in New York. In 1876 Henry and Rebecca Price ‘nee Ashe purchase a 3 story tenement at 714 Wharton Street in South Philadelphia for $1100. As Episcopalians they attended the African Church of the Evangelist on Catherine Street. The Prices had 5 children and lived out the rest of their lives in Philadelphia in peace. William and Hannah Cooper both died in the 1850s and are buried at Lebanon Cemetery.
***
Abraham Charles Ash, Junior (1838 – 1920) appears on the 1860 census in Philadelphia before Emancipation. At the time his profession was “shoemaker” Abraham (who on some records was “Abram”) was probably apprenticed to William Cooper, Price’s friend and neighbor from Charleston, the black boot maker. He stated his birthplace as Pennsylvania not South Carolina. As a fugitive slave, he was probably attempting to avoid sharing information that might lead to his discovery and possible recapture.
Inspired by his own journey from bondage to freedom, Abram was moved to fight for the freedom of his enslaved brethren. In 1863, Abram Junior enlisted into the Union Navy in Philadelphia, proudly stating he was born in South Carolina. For over two years he served on three different vessels including the USS Monticello, USS Princeton, and USS Savannah. Before he enlisted in the winter of 1860, he married Ann Maria Jackson. Their first child was stillborn in 1863 and buried in Lebanon cemetery, their second attempt also ended in tragedy. Frederick lived only 17 months and is also buried in Lebanon. “Annie” and Abram were married for 50 years and appear to have had no further children.
USS Monticello, colored print, 1860s.
Abram filed for a naval pension for his service during the Civil War and received it in 1891 according to the Philadelphia Enquirer. The pension application has been a wealth of information, including about his sister Maria Louisa.
According to his US Naval Pension records, while serving as a sailor during the war, he slept on a zinc floor of the USS Savannah and not a hammock, and as a result suffered frostbite and rheumatism. His pension was increased over time from $6 to $12 a month. To secure an increase in the pension, Abram furnished a letter saying he came to Philadelphia from Charleston about 1848 and “went to Mr. William Cooper.” The record also states Abram was bound out to shoemaker Jesse Turner who lived on 2nd and Chestnut between 1850 and 1860 (Abram first lived in the home of William Cooper). A 1903 letter from his sister Maria Louisa Julius who was living in Orange, New Jersey at the time is also included in the application. In the letter, Maria begged Abram and his wife Anna to move to New Jersey near her. She stated she did not have any dependents who could claim her life insurance upon her death. Maria chastised Abram for “being nearly 61 years old” and not yet being a “good Christian man.”
In one notable affidavit in the pension records, Abram states he was “born free” in Charleston and that his parents died before he left. The record shows otherwise, however. He was either ignorant of the facts of his birth status as a slave – or he felt it necessary to continue to hide the circumstances of his birth from the US government. Perhaps he thought it jeopardized his pension status in some way.
In fact there were discrepancies in his age. He reports being born in 1838 and 1842 separately during his pension negotiations – an error the Commissioner of the Pension office asked him to reconcile. Or perhaps he was growing senile. On one application document asking for the status of his family he stated that his wife had died in 1916, then put his wife’s name down under children, and that she was living in Mount Holly, New Jersey. Abram Ashe died in July 1920 and is buried at the Philadelphia National Cemetery under a veteran’s marker arranged by his widow Anna Jackson of Kater Street in Philadelphia according to records. It appears that is the end of his line.
***
Isabella Ash (1835 – 1883), another of Maria Louisa’s sisters, is found living in Charleston on the 1860 record before Emancipation. By then, she was clearly a free person of color – only her daughter Rebecca aged 6 at the time was living with her though. Thomas Peace was on the 1868 voter registration roll before appearing with his wife and family in the 1870 census. Isabellabecame a “Mantua maker” or dressmaker on Coming Street. Mantuas were formal 17th century gowns hand stitched by enslaved women that would return their wages to their owners. In 1870 after the Civil War’s close, Isabella Peace, once again advertised she was seeking patronage for her craft. Freedmen’s Savings & Trust bank accounts of her sons St. Julian and Eugene living at 24 Wall St. in 1868 show they too were entrepreneurial and eager to establish financial records after Emancipation. By 1880, Isabella was no longer sewing – she was paralyzed for over a year, and died not long after in 1883 at about the age of 55. Her husband Thomas died of old age in 1887 at age 80. St. Julian died young. Eugene, a barber, married and moved to Philadelphia. Rebecca, married and remained in Charleston. Isabell died at 55 of old age and is buried in the historic Charleston Cemetery district in the Unity & Friendship Society cemetery. The district includes the relocated Brown Fellowship Society cemetery as well.
Abraham Ashe’s son, perhaps the eldest, William Ash remains an enigma. His name is recorded in his purchase as a slave in 1835, inventory in 1842, then again in 1870 on the Freedmen’s Bank Account record of Maria Louisa Julius, but I can find no further mention of him. His precise location in California was not noted by his sister, other than that he was a machinist. William Cooper’s son William Jr. did move briefly to Sacramento, California about 1852 for work, but returned to Philadelphia. If William Cooper went with the family friend, there is no record.
Outside the Freedman’s Bank record, there are few records for Maria Louisa Ash, either under the married name Alexander or Julius, or her surname Ash. However, we know by November 1870, at age 25 she arrived in New York City where she was married to a man named William Alexander Julius. Her “dark brown” complexion distinguished her from her sister Isabella, listed as “mulatto” her whole life. Perhaps they were half-sisters? Julius may have also been the surname of Maria Louisa’s husband. In 1903 she wrote a remarkable letter to her brother, Abram, which he used in his US Navy pension application. The letter revealed she was living alone near Newark in Orange, New Jersey, without any heirs – apparently she was childless. She described herself as an “old woman” who could not get work washing, but with many friends. She hoped her brother and sister-in-law would claim her life insurance. Abram stated he attended her funeral in the pension application in 1912. She would have been 78. It’s a pity that Maria Louisa’s bank record could lead to so much information about her siblings and not more about her own early life. Did she also make the journey directly to Philadelphia with her siblings or was the family split up to better protect them from slave catchers?
ABRAHAM, REFUGEE OF SAINT-DOMINGUE.
By examining the life of the Ashe children, I’ve learned further remarkable facts about the early life of Abraham Ashe. On the 1880 census, Abram Ashe listed both his parents as being born in “Hayti” (Haiti). His sister Rebecca also ticked the box on the 1870 census record that her father was of “foreign birth.” Though they had come a long way out of slavery in Charleston, they had not forgotten their parents origins. Perhaps Rebecca was the knowledge keeper of the family. She would name her daughter Susan after her mother for example. Their parent’s reported origin in the former French colony of Saint-Domingue may explain the francophone names of Abraham’s children Isabella and Maria Louisa. Saint-Domingue was the French name for the island of Hispaniola before 1804.If Abraham Ashe Senior was first enslaved in Saint-Domingue and then brought to South Carolina as a refugee in the 1790s during the Haitian Revolution then the widow of Capt. John Ashe, Elizabeth Legare-Ashe, was not Abraham’s first enslaver. Abraham would have already lived a full life as a young French black on the island of Saint-Domingue. Was he a skilled tradesman in towns like Cap Francis or Port-au-Prince or was he a valet or house slave tending to a wealthy mulatto merchant, or was he a seaman working the ports transporting the ill gotten gains of the French colonists? Was he born free in Africa, enslaved and then taken to Saint-Domingue?
The Burning of Cap Francais, Haiti, by the French School (engraving).
It is not well known today that Saint-Domingue was once the wealthiest colony of the “new world”, with wealth greater than all the British and Spanish colonies combined at that time. In many ways, the West Indies, Florida, and southern port cities like Savannah and Charleston were satellites of this powerful trade port. The mountainous island of Hispaniola was in fact cosmopolitan with well developed cities in nearly every bay, deep ports, and vast estates. Saint-Domingue produced so much wealth, the French gave up the entirety of Canada to secure their claim on the colony. When the Haitian Revolution took place between 1791 and 1804, different bands of enslaved people, free people of color (largely mulattos, but some Euro Africans as well), and maroons (self-emancipated blacks) joined together to overthrow the government in a series of bloody battles on the island lasting years.
Over about a dozen years, white French and gens de couleur libres or free people of color – merchants, planters, traders lost control of the cities, then the sugar cane farms, and coffee plantations, and thousands of acres of land along with access to forced labor that made them wealthy. Becoming refugees on other islands due to the uprising, the French streamed into the US to southern ports like New Orleans and Charleston, taking their enslaved people with them as their primary, and only source of income. Of course, the US ended international slave trading in 1807 shutting the door to the legal importation of slaves, but not before many thousands of Haitian enslaved arrived unwillingly. Over 500 documented French refugees arrived in the port of Charleston in the 1790s but the numbers of enslaved they bought with them are not precisely known.
During the colonial era, Saint-Domingue had a diverse three-tiered society of Whites of French, British, and Spanish descent, mixed-race Africans and indigenous peoples, and Black people, both enslaved and free. It was a creolized society – one where the African diaspora historian Ira Berlin called “Atlantic Creole” could prosper under the right conditions living between and taking advantage of societal rules around race and religion. When they arrived in Charleston, French-speaking Catholics from Saint-Domingue significantly altered Charleston’s Protestant, two-tiered social structure (white/black) and their creolized culture threatened the white supremacist status quo – they were not exactly welcomed with open arms. Charlestonians feared they would bring the insurrectionist tendencies with them embodied in their slaves. In fact, the preeminent South Carolina historian Bernard Powers wrote in his book Black Charlestonians that about 15 French slaves led by two Haitians were implicated in a conspiracy to burn Charleston “as they had formerly done at St. Domingue.”
Despite the concern, many Charlestonians, part of French benevolent societies, embraced the refugees. It seems James H. Ladson, the attorney and executor of Abraham Ashe’s estate was sympathetic to the refugees of St. Domingo. In 1805 and 1806, as a member of the St. Cecilia Society, he financially supported several benefit concerts for Saint-Domingue orphans. Perhaps this predisposed Ladson to Ashe and made it possible for him to broker with Abraham’s daughter Rebecca to let her take her siblings North to freedom.
After he gained his freedom from the English merchant James Mays, Abraham Ashe could have sought to model himself after the elite French gens de couleur libres class who arrived with slaves and wealth. He might have wanted to imitate people like the Euro African family of Marie-Adélaïde Rossignol, a quadroon born in West African island of Goree who immigrated to Haiti, became a slave owner, before fleeing to Charleston where her family. Rossignols married into European immigrant families in Charleston and effectively “passed” into white life for generations. Or he may have considered styling himself after William Rollin, a Catholic mulatto from Saint-Domingue who ran a successful lumber business in Charleston, employing Irish labor.
What we know is that Abraham aligned himself early on with the Episcopalians. His proximity to the members of the Brown Fellowship Society and interactions with them suggests that he became more “African American” though his Franco-African roots no doubt set him apart. He could traverse many spaces in the antebellum postcolonial world as an “Atlantic Creole”, as a former slave and purchaser of enslaved people, the world of free people of color with French West Indian roots, and into the emerging modern African American identity desperately seeking freedom.
CAPTAIN JACOB ASHE.
Captain Jacob Ashe (1850 – 1896), a sloop captain from Charleston, is the 3x great grandfather of several of my 4th generation Ancestry DNA match cousins. Captain Ashe and his wife Ellen “Nellie” nee’ Grant (1852 – 1906) lived at 11 Nunan St., 2 New St., 10 Smith Lane, and 4 Council St. throughout the 1870s and 80s. Together, Jacob and Nellie had seven children beginning in 1876.
John Jacob (1876 – 1895)
Ellen Elizabeth (1879 – 1966)
Mary Jane “Minnie” (1880 – aft. 1900)
Lorine (1880 – aft. 1900)
David (1882 – aft. 1900)
Rosa (1893 – 1848)
Jacob Jr. (1896 – aft. 1900)
Most records spell Jacob’s last name as “Ashe” with an “e”. Death records state he died about Nov. 20, 1896 and was classified as “brown” or a mulatto. He was born at “Togoodoo,” a northwest tributary of Toogoodoo Creek on Edisto Island, in St. John’s Parish, Colleton, but also the name of a major plantation there. Buried at Emanuel cemetery, his family were African Methodist Episcopalians. Based on the predicted genetic relationship of a mutual descendent, Capt. Jacob Ashe was very likely the grand child of Abraham Ashe, and my distant cousin.
Abraham was enslaved by Capt. John Ashe Esq., son of Major General John S. Ashe of North Carolina. Abraham was then held by Capt. Ashe’s widow Eliza Legare, before she sold him to James Mays in 1807.
Given his prior enslavement by Capt. Ashe, Abraham may have spent time at Toogoodoo, probably in the mid-1790s through the early 1800s after arriving as an enslaved refugee from Haiti. He may have even had a child there with an enslaved woman producing one of Jacob’s parents, like his father. On the 1880 census was Jacob’s mother named Louisa Johnston, born about 1832 in Charleston. She could have been his mother-in-law too.
American sloop, circa 1850s.
Abraham had three documented sons, William, Abraham Jr. and Christopher according to the Freeman’s Bank Record of his daughter Maria Louisa Ashe. Christopher and William do not have birthdates or date of deaths. Abraham Jr. left Charleston before he was of age to have children. Records show William was born before 1835 but living in California by 1870, and Christopher was deceased. I surmise Christopher didn’t survive childhood and was likely born after Abraham purchased his wife Susannah in 1835, making William the most likely candidate for Jacob’s father. William would have only been a teen, but still a young man by the standard of the day when Jacob was born in 1850.
A “historic cabin” on Toogoodoo Plantation for rent on VRBO appears to be a remodeled slave cabin.
As a sloop captain, Jacob Ashe likely traveled back and forth between area plantations delivering cotton and other products, probably from Toogoodoo Creek to Charleston’s many ports. Toogoodoo is closely associated with the plantations of the white Ashe family since the colony of Carolina. The lands originally called “Tooboo-doo” perhaps for its native name were in the Ashe family for at least 3 generations before Joseph Ashe (1758 – 1790) and his brother John Ashe Senior (1760 – 1825) resided at the place also called Ashe Point. He had several plantations at the time of his death in 1825, two of which were rice plantations with mills. His other plantations included Whooping Island, Russell’s Point (on Edisto), Pingree Island, Will Plantation (near Willtown), Moss Plantation, a mansion house in Charleston and several lots of land. Capt. Jacob Ashe was probably born on Toogoodoo plantation under the occupation of Col. Ashe. He was likely hired out or apprenticed as a sailor to learn the trade. He eventually would use those skills to become a sloop captain.
Survey of “Ashe Point”, plantation at “Tooboodoo” Creek outside Charleston.
Captain Jacob Ashe raised his family during that remarkable period known as “Reconstruction”, when radical Black Republicans were ascendent during a volatile period of governorship of the state and city. During Reconstruction in Charleston, Congressman Robert Smalls, the legendary self-liberated former slave and Civil War hero famous for stealing a Confederate ship, started a railroad enterprise between Charleston and Beaufort. Over 80 blacks were elected to the South Carolina legislature in 1868. A black man, Jonathan Jasper Wright, was elected judge of the South Carolina Supreme Court and Smalls was elected to fill his unexpired time in the state Senate in 1870.
Rep. Robert Smalls (1839 – 1915)Judge Jonathan J. Wright (1840 – 1885)
Jacob Ashe became a member of Charleston’s “Special Police” in 1870 tasked with protecting the vote of thousands of blacks heading to the polls in South Carolina history. Black Republicans won 3 of the 4 seats in the House of Representatives and a Senate seat. In 1880 Capt. Jacob lived next door to several black sailors on Council Street: Captain Peter Allston, father and son Captain Henry L. Graddick, and Captain Henry Taylor Graddick. The Graddicks were FPOC before 1865. Capt. Graddick hosted Frederick Douglass in his only southern visit in 1888.
Tragically, Captain Ashe’s family had several early deaths. Jacob and Nellie’s eldest son John died at age 19 from Bright’s Disease. Then Jacob, himself died just a year later in 1896 – he was only 44. His wife Nellie died of apoplexy at 44 years old as well in 1902. She was last living in the neck at 90 Morris Street and is buried at Emanuel as well. Their daughter Ellen “Ella” Elizabeth married Joseph Nelson. Ellen and Joseph had 15 children, though not all survived to adulthood. Ellen lived a long life, to age 87. Joseph was a porter for the American Railroad Company when they lived in the Washington Heights neighborhood in Charleston in the early 1900s. In 1920, the family moved to Charlotte where Joseph worked as a cook, and at Southern Railway Company. Ellen’s younger sister Rosa Ashe married James Pinckney of Charleston.
Rosa was a cook and lived on rented premises on Calhoun Street which used to be Boundary Street when she passed in 1948. Her death certificate, signed by her sister Ella, spelled her father Jacob’s last name as Ashe with an “e”. Her husband James was a carpenter, and was once employed by the passenger rail company, Atlantic Coast Line Railroad as a boilermaker helper. They lived at Tobins Court Alley in Ward 9 for many years throughout the Great Depression. James died sometime before 1840 in his 60s. Rosa is also buried at the Emanuel cemetery.
THE LONG ARCBENDS.
The story of Abraham Ashe and his remarkable family doesn’t end here. Clues point to the possibility that the Haitian-born man was first enslaved in the port city of Cap Francais by the Afro-French descendant of the Bertrand family, merchants and planters in San Domingue from the 1870s up to the Haitian revolution.
When Martin Luther King said, the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice, he never spoke truer words. In twenty years of family research, I’ve never encountered an ancestor story quite like this one. That Abraham would be enslaved in another country, live through the largest slave uprising in history, and the only uprising that led the the creation of a free state of formerly enslaved people, live life as an enslaved refugee in Charleston to a powerful elite white family, be sold to an English immigrant, and then become a free person of color who would go on to own land and purchase his enslaved family members to create a nominal freedom for them, well, it’s simply astounding. That Abraham and his second wife Susannah and their enslaved children were smuggled North to freedom after his death, and their son Abram Junior would go on to become a US sailor on three ships in the Civil War fighting for the freedom of all enslaved blacks and to preserve the Union, is the very definition of resilience. My hope is that by recovering and sharing Abraham’s journey, and the earliest history of my maternal family, my own descendants will find in their past legacy, the strength and lessons in resilience necessary to face the future where the American experiment is always being tested.
SOURCES.
“Free Blacks and Mulattos in South Carolina.”Ancestry.com.
Bill of Sale (1807, Slave: Abraham to James Mays, from Elizabeth Ashe, Widow of Nathan Legare, and Hon. John Ashe, Esq.). Charleston Public Records.
Charleston Public Records.Enslavement Records 1832–1836.FamilySearch.
“Slaves at Little Edisto and Frogmore Plantations, Edisto Island, SC, 1858.”Fold3.
“Middleton of South Carolina.”The South Carolina Historical and Genealogical Magazine, vol. 1, no. 3, July 1900, pp. 228–262.
South Carolina Historical Society.J.H. Ladson Papers.
Salley, A. S., Jr., editor.Marriage Notices in The South-Carolina Gazette and Its Successors, 1732-1801. Joel Munsell’s Sons, 1902.
“Digital Library on American Slavery: The Race and Slavery Petitions Project.”University of North Carolina at Greensboro.
“Freedom on the Move Database.”Cornell University.
“Haiti to Charleston.”Roman Catholic Diocese of Charleston, charlestondiocese.org/bishop-jacques-fabre-jeune-cs/haiti-to-charleston/.
City of Philadelphia Register of Wills Office.City of Philadelphia Register of Wills Office.secureprod.phila.gov/wills/.
Powers, Bernard E., Jr.Black Charlestonians: A Social History, 1822–1885. University of Arkansas Press, 1994.
Saillant, John, “BEFORE 1822: ANTI-BLACK ATTACKS ON CHARLESTON METHODIST CHURCHES FROM 1786 TO DENMARK VESEY’S EXECUTION,”Commonplace: the journal of early American life, accessed 1.10.25, https://commonplace.online/article/before-1822/.
Gillikin, M. W.Saint Dominguan Refugees in Charleston, South Carolina, 1791-1822: Assimilation and Accommodation in a Slave Society. 2014. Doctoral dissertation, University of South Carolina, scholarcommons.sc.edu/etd/3040.
“Colonial Families of the USA, 1607-1775 for William Hasell Gibbs.”Ancestry.com.
Force, Pierre, and Susan Dick Hoffius.Negotiating Race and Status in Senegal, Saint Domingue, and South Carolina: Marie-Adélaïde Rossignol and Her Descendants. McNeil Center for Early American Studies, 2018.
“INDEMNISATION DES COLONS SPOLIÉS (Compensation for Dispossessed Colonists).” Sous-série F/12, Articles F/12/2740-2883 et F/12/7627-7632, Archives Nationales, Paris.
Annuaire de la pairie et de la noblesse de France et des maisons souveraines de l’Europe (Directory of the Peerage and Nobility of France and the Sovereign Houses of Europe). Vol. 26, 1869.
THE LAST ENSLAVERS OF JOSEPH SHerman AND MARIE YORK.
My great-great-great-grandparents, Joe Sherman (1821–1880) and Marie Sherman (1830–1915) became a couple while they were both enslaved in the 1850s in the Grove District of Greenville, South Carolina.
According to family oral tradition, Joe Sherman may have originally been from Charleston, South Carolina where he was purchased as an enslaved man. Charleston was America’s oldest and largest slave-trading port, and most African Americans are likely to have an ancestor who arrived through this gateway. After the 1807 U.S. ban on international slave trading, when the US Constitution was finally ratified by 1808, Charleston became a hub for the domestic slave trade, which forcibly relocated generations of Africans who already had lives and communities liminaly as enslaved labor on plantations in the North to the Deep South. If a planter wanted to get enslaved labor, the only place they could get it was within the boundaries of the United States. The international ban basically became a legal sanction, federally protected trade that supercharged the business of slavery in the US.
Gadsden’s Wharf, the largest slave port in Charleston, saw an estimated 100,000 West Africans land there between 1783 and 1807. More than 40% of all Africans in America first set foot on American soil at Gadsden’s Wharf, survivors of the horrific Middle Passage, one of the worst traumas in human history. After 1808, more than 40,000 more Africans were smuggled in. Today, Gadsden’s Wharf is the site of the International African American Museum dedicated to black history and genealogy – a place where all Americans can explore their African roots.
I want to believe the lore, but it’s probably most likely that Joe’s parents first stepped foot on the continent at Charleston, not him. Or that Joe’s parents were sold south through Charleston but were originally from the North. However, I have come to definitively learn so much more about Joe’s early life from about 1848 through emancipation by researching my genealogy, weaving together archival study and genetic research.
Census records are consistent that Joe’s wife, Marie, was born in Virginia, but how she arrived in South Carolina has been as equal a mystery as Joe’s life. I assumed she was sold South, perhaps taken from her family, since I could not find her parents or siblings in the records after 1870. For over twenty years, I have been researching my family history. Before me, my late cousin, Pat Mays-Thompson, spent fifty years studying the Mays and Sherman families and their origins on the record around Greenville, South Carolina. Despite all these many years of research, very little has been known or even speculated about Joseph and Marie’s origins—until now.
1870 US Census, Grantt, Greenville, the Sherman and Mays family living next door to each other. Harriet is the daughter of the Shermans.
Just a few years after the Civil War ended on the 1870 census, Joe, 49, and Marie Sherman, 40, farmed in the Gantt District, just southeast of Greenville, while leading a large household that included six children ranging in ages from 18 to 3; Nancy, Jackson, Tanday, Felix, Henry, Charles, and John. Charles and John were the first free-born children of the family after emancipation. We know Joe and Marie met while they were enslaved because five of their seven children were born before the Emancipation Proclamation of 1863 when over 3 million enslaved people were freed by the legal decree during the Civil War.
Joe and Marie’s eldest daughter Harriet, 22, is found living next door to the Shermans with her husband Jim Mays, 24, and their infant son, Benjamin Franklin “Frank” Mays. Jim and Harriet are my great-great grandparents, through their fifth son, Van Matthew Mays (1883 – 1961) who migrated to Cleveland, Ohio in the early 1900s with his wife Elvira Higdon (1890 – 1848).
Harriet Sherman, (1848 – 1929), daughter of Joseph Sherman and Marie York. Image, enhanced and colorized.
Greenville in 1870 at this time was a high country community of farms, cotton mills, and textile factories, with a small downtown, but it was far from sleepy. Due to the cotton boom, and Greenville’s many creeks and rivers, the town supported one of the largest textile manufacturing areas in the country. Greenville was built on the insatiability for cotton and woolen clothing being manufactured in England and Europe. In 1860, South Carolina had an enslaved population of 400,000. The Gannt district was named for Judge Richard Grant of Maryland who settled in the area in the early 1800s. The White Horse Pike was already a major highway from North to South. Various mills and a few large factories situated on the Reedy and Enoree rivers in Greenville transformed cotton and other materials into wealth for the early planters.
Vardry McBee Grist Mill on the Reedy River, Greenville, SC, mid 1800s. Image from Friends of Reedy River.
Joe Sherman was born about 1821 and Marie about 1830. Marie’s 1870 and 1880 census records show she was born in Virginia, and as we’ll see, she was part of a sprawling interconnected family – by blood – of black enslaved people and white early American enslaver families that migrated from Virginia to South Carolina after the American Revolution. The heads of these slaveholding families took advantage of land patents awarded for their service as soldiers during the American Revolution, as well as large swaths of land in South Carolina purchased when they were still British subjects. They also came in search of fertile new lands to cultivate because Virginia tobacco farming had depleted the arable land. I’ve previously discussed how the families that enslaved my earliest Mays ancestors, the Moon, Few, Mays, and Gilreath families, were part of an explosion of growth in the population of Greenville that built vast intergenerational wealth for antebellum white farmers while imparting generational trauma and depredation on their enslaved. Among those Virginian families were the Curetons – who also had strong ties to the Moon family. However, they arrived in the Greenville district of Grove instead of O’Neal.
HENRY SHERMAN SELLS “JO”.
In January 1846, for the sum of $450, a white Greenville planter living in Grove District named Henry Sherman sold two enslaved men, “Jo” and “Peter” to a neighbor named William Henry Cureton (1812 – 1893). Sherman warranted them to be “sound and healthy.” This remarkable information was uncovered using the FamilySearch full-text experimental search to explore Sherman records that are currently unindexed. I came across the bill of sale by researching white farmers in the region with the same surname as my ancestors.
Mortgage of Negros, Henry Sherman to William H. Cureton, 1846.
I set out to explore if this Jo was my ancestor, but I had never heard the name Cureton before. I imagined for many years that my ancestor may have adopted the Sherman surname of Union General William Tecumseh Sherman whose infamous army march devastated Confederate forces, and freed countless slaves across the South. I should not have been surprised to find Joe’s surname was that of a former enslaver.
“I, Henry Sherman, have granted, bargained, and sold and by these presents do grant, bargain, and sell unto Wm H. Cureton, one negro man named Jo and one other negro man named Peter for and in consideration of the sum of Four Hundred and fifty Dollars with interest thereon from 1st of December last, which payment to be well and truly made and done by the said William H. Cureton.”
In 1840, according to US Census records, the farmer Henry Sherman family included two boys and a girl under 9, and a wife between the ages of 20 and 29. With just 3 enslaved, Henry would have been a small village farmer and not part of the wealthy planter class. He was between 30 and 39 years old when he enslaved a black male between 10 and 23, and two black females between 10 and 23 years old. Since Henry made the sale of two males in 1846, he likely acquired at least one of them, Jo or Peter, between 1840 and 1846.
Henry Sherman To William H. Cureton Mortgage of Negroes
South Carolina Greenville District
Know all men by these presents, that I, Henry Sherman, have granted, bargained, and sold and by these presents do grant, bargain, and sell unto Wm H. Cureton, one negro man named Jo and one other negro man named Peter for and in consideration of the sum of Four Hundred and fifty Dollars with interest thereon from 1st of December last, which payment to be well and truly made and done by the said William H. Cureton. I do hereby bind myself, my heirs, executors, and administrators & assigns to warrant and forever defend the rights and title of the said negro Jo and negro Peter to the said William H. Cureton, his heirs and assigns forever. And I do warrant the above-named negroes to be sound and healthy negroes to have and to hold said negroes until the conditions underwritten shall be complied with. This the 9th day of January 1846.
The condition of the above obligation is such that the above bound Henry Sherman has become indebted to Edmund Waddle on one note for four hundred and fifty Dollars with interest thereon from about the 1st of December last past, and the said William H. Cureton did assign said note with the said Henry Sherman as security and in order that the said William H. Cureton from his liability has bound himself for assigning said note with said Sherman that if the said Henry Sherman shall give the said Cureton the above obligation, and if the said Henry Sherman does pay and fulfill and discharge the above note in full, then this obligation to be void and of no effect otherwise to remain in full force, etc. And the said negroes Jo and Peter shall be applied to the payment of the above debt, and if there should be any surplus after paying said debt and the cost that may arise thereon, it shall be returned to the said Henry Sherman. Witness my hand and seal the day and date above written.
Henry Sherman [seal]
Signed, Sealed and Delivered In the presence of us: Pascal D. Cureton Wm. H. Cureton
South Carolina Greenville District
Personally came before me Wm. H. Cureton the above named, and made oath that he did see Henry Sherman sign, seal, and deliver the within instrument of writing for the uses and purposes therein mentioned and that he, Pascal Cureton, and H. Cureton, in the presence of each other, witnessed the due execution of the same.
Sworn to and subscribed before me this 17th day of January 1846 Robt. McKay, C.C.C. & Magt. Ex off.Recorded 17th January 1846, By Robt. McKay, C.C.C.
With this being the only evidence of a man named Jo with the potential surname Sherman, I knew I would have to thoroughly research Henry Sherman as well as William H. Cureton independently. My Joe Sherman had a wife named Marie, but until this bill of sale, I had found no other documentation about either in Greenville records.
I speculated, if this Jo was my Joe Sherman, perhaps my great-great-great grandparents met on Cureton’s plantation or in the mill? I already knew their daughter Harriet was born before the emancipation of the enslaved and well before the Civil War. Frustratingly, I also knew William H. Cureton died after the war, so his will and probate record would not contain the names of his formerly enslaved unless he had a special relationship with them that extended beyond the freeing of the slaves. However, William H. Cureton appears to have also died intestate. I often explore the possibility of genetic relationships between myself and enslaver families and research them as thoroughly as I would my own. As is common in my reports, I often find connections. So, could genetic genealogy again shed light on the ancestral path when paper trails fade? Before delving into my own genetic story, to locate Joe and Marie, I would to first better understand who William H. Cureton and Henry Sherman were. Fortunately, there was plenty of historical documentation on the men to be found.
THE YORKS –WILLAM CURETON’S ENSLAVED FAMILY.
According to Historical Southern Families, Vol. XIX, the Cureton clan was originally from Wales and settled in Pennsyvlania and Virginia in the early to mid-1700. The Curetons were associated with plantations in several Virginia counties, including Prince George County, and Lunenberg County south of Petersburg around the Meherrin, Blackwater, and James rivers. Various Cureton family members immigrated south to North Carolina, Laurens County, Lancaster County, and Greenville County in South Carolina, as well as Alabama, Georgia, and west to Arkansas over several generations. Other early families marrying into the Curetons include the Heath and Baugh families.
Another source of Cureton family history includes a Cureton Family Bible in the collection of Bible Records at the Houston Genealogical Forum. The bible was passed down through the generations and stated that Cureton and his wife, Frances, had six children between 1717 and 1735. A note indicates that the Cureton Baugh branch of the family also lived in Prince George and Bertie Counties, Virginia.
There were three generations of John Cureton. John Cureton Jr. was born in 1757 to John Cureton Sr. (1731-1803) and Winifred Heath (1733-1783) in Lunenburg, Virginia with land on both sides of the Meherrin river, and married Sarah Moon, daughter of Gideon Moon, in 1778. Gideon Moon, the namesake of the Moon family, traces his lineage back to British colonial Virginia. The Moon and Cureton families were close, as some of their children shared the same first names. Gideon Moon gave his son-in-law 70 acres of land in Virginia. John Cureton Jr. served as the executor of Gideon Moon’s estate, as recorded in Moon’s will exhibited in 1790.
Gideon Moon also held lands across several districts in Greenville, and evidence shows he gifted some of it to his son William. Gideon’s son John Moon also settled in Greenville and died in 1839 – his daughter married David T. Cureton, the son of John Cureton Sr. Sarah Moon (1750–1797) one of Gideon’s daughters, married John Cureton Jr. In 1790, John Jr. bought and sold land in Virginia twice, eventually selling it to another of Gideon Moon’s sons.
John M. Cureton Sr. also purchased over 1,000 acres of land in 1805 in Greenville on the Rocky River (now Reedy River), later selling much of it to his son. Sarah Cureton (née Moon) died around 1797. By that year, John Cureton Jr. had sold his Virginia property and fully migrated south with his two sons, John “Moon” Cureton III (1779–1845) and Abner H. Cureton (1785–1850) to South Carolina on the Enoree River. In about 1820 John Cureton Jr. built a home about 5 miles south of Simpsonville. Showing how close the families were, John Moon also named one of his sons “Abner Heath” Moon.
1825 Mills Atlas of Greenville, Grove District, Cureton’s Mill on the Reedy River south of Greenville.
The Greenville Century Book states, “John M. Cureton was the first of that name to settle in the county (Greenville)…He was also from Virginia and located on the Enoree river in the Clear Spring neighborhood soon after the Revolutionary war.”
Abner Heath Cureton and his brother John Cureton III later moved to Greenville to the Sandy Springs area and lived on adjoining plantations in the district of Grove. The “Cureton Mill” on the Reedy River appears on the 1850 mills map of Greenville County. John married Mary Adkins Dacus and Abner married Matilda Lester first and then Matilda Nelson second and had 13 children in all. John became a true planter – he enslaved 29 people in 1830 and by 1840 he held 59 people in bondage. Fitting with the growth of factories and textile mills spinning cotton in the area, Cureton was also enslaving on an industrial level to achieve industrial strength returns. By contrast, Abner held no slaves himself between 1820 and 1830 as he was establishing himself, and then gained just 3 people enslaved by 1840. He likely worked with his brother in an overseer capacity. Perhaps because they held adjoining plantations, Abner and John Cureton probably shared the spoils of the enslaved labor.
James Douglass Cureton (1830 – 1904), son of Abner H. Cureton, brother to William H. Cureton. Image, enhanced and colorized. Source. T. Marty, Ancestry.com
Abner and Matilda’s second son was named William Henry Cureton. He was born in Greenville and grew up on the Cureton plantations with his siblings, John, Thomas, George, Sallie, and David. In 1846, William H. Cureton purchased “Jo” and “Peter” but he wasn’t particularly wealthy like his uncle. Though he lived in Fork Shoals through the early to mid-1800s farming, he was worth only about $1400 in 1850. Surprisingly, he remained a bachelor with no children according to the record (but that fact would change with more investigation). He was a slaveholder, however.
William H. Cureton’s 9 enslaved in 1850 were:
Female 38, b. 1812
Male 24, b. 1826 (possibly Joe Sherman – born about 1821)
Female 20, b. 1830 (possibly Marie Sherman – born about 1830)
Female 2, b. 1848 (possibly Harriet Sherman – born about 1848)
Male 35, b. 1815
Female 14, b. 1836
Female 5, b. 1845
Male 1, b. 1849
Female 2, b. 1848
Besides being a farmer, William H. Cureton was a “backcountry slave trader.” Such traders were small and largely rural, trading occasionally. Cureton partnered with a man named Elihu P. Smith of Spartanburg, another trader to sell an enslaved African. In 1841, Elihu borrowed $745 “in full pay for one Negro girl Jane and her child Caroline, which Negros I [William H. Cureton of Greenville, S.C.] warrant to be Sound in every Respect and slaves for life.” Elihu’s transaction was captured by his nephew, William James Smith, also a rural slave trader in James’ trading ledgers.
Among Smith’s papers is a receipt written by William H. Cureton from 1847 that read, “Received, Feb. 9, 1847 from Elihu P. Smith, two hundred and seventy-five dollars it being one half of the purchase money of a Negro man Stephen which we purchased jointly.” William Smith entrusted Stephen to his nephew and the “old man” was sold for $735 a year later. William Smith also conducted business with John M. Cureton Jr. according to letters directed to him.
By 1860, William H. Cureton’s personal wealth dramatically increased by three times to $15,725. Was his boost in fortune tied to profits from slave trading or perhaps exceptional productivity on the farm he worked with his younger brothers? It was probably a bit of both, as well as some fortune from an inheritance.
William H. was the executor of his father Abner’s estate around 1850. Abner and his brother, John Moon Cureton III migrated from Lunenburg to Greenville with their father over forty years before where they farmed and enslaved people on an industrial level as planters. Although Abner’s will did not leave any of his enslaved people to William, it directed that nine of them (four women and six children) be sold, while two men, Sandy and Andy, were passed to his widow, Matilda, and a girl to his daughter, Margaret. It’s likely the slave auction put money in the pockets of Abner’s sons. In comparison, Abner’s wife Matilda was only worth $2,500 according to the 1850 census.
William H.’s first cousin, Pascal Dacus Cureton, the son of John Cureton III, also inherited planting from his father and held 1,600 acres of land by 1850, valued at $15,000. This land was the remainder of his father’s estate. Pascal enslaved 76 people on his plantation next to Williams. However, by 1860, the number of people he enslaved had dropped to 32, likely due to a large sell-off. Again, I wonder if William H. was doing more extensive trading? Despite these changes, the adjoining Cureton plantations remained quite prosperous as they passed from fathers to sons.
The original home of John Moon Cureton Jr., William H.’s grandfather, today is known as the Cureton-Huff House and is on the National Register of Historic Places, and Inventory of Historical Places in South Carolina. Cureton was a prosperous farmer in Simpsonville and his house and farm are representative of the rural farmhouses and complexes of the time and region. The house in particular is representative of the vernacular building modes, construction technology, and limited stylistic awareness common to an upper-middle income farmer in a rural community. The house also retains noteworthy Federal stylistic elements in its woodwork. The plan of the house, originally a vernacular hall-and-parlor, was altered prior to the death of Cureton into a central hall plan. Both plans were common to the farmhouses of South Carolina in the antebellum era. The heavy timber-braced frame with its mortise-and-tenon joints, the beaded weatherboarding, and the small-paned window sash were representative features of such houses. Outbuildings on the property include a carriage house, a blacksmith shop, several barns and animal pens, two corn cribs, and a garage. The house was likely all built by slave labor. Most of the outbuildings date from the early twentieth century. The Cureton-Huff cemetery on site has a low stone wall. Listed in the National Register January 13, 1983, by an ancestor, the application stated that upon his death, John M. Cureton Jr. enslaved 75 people and his estate was over $28,000.
Home of John Moon Cureton, “Cureton-Huff House” is on the National Register of Historical Places, Greenville, SC.
In 1851, William H. Cureton sold 250 acres of land on the south side of the Reedy River near Wilson Ferry. By 1858, Cureton had become Commissioner of the Poor in Greenville, as reported in the Charleston Mercury. By 1860, his reported wealth was largely tied to the value of his 11 enslaved people, who ranged in age from 2 to 40, many of them males. A notable detail from the slave schedule is that of the 11 people listed, 5 were categorized as ‘mulatto,’ while the rest were listed as ‘Black.’ Several of the slaves were mixed-race, black and white.
According to the 1860 slave schedule, Cureton’s 11 enslaved included:
Male 40, black, b. 1820
Female 38, black, b. 1822
Male 33, mulatto, b.1827
Female 20, black, b. 1840
Female 14, mulatto, b. 1846
Male 11, black, b. 1849
Male 9, mulatto, b. 1851
Male 7, mulatto, b. 1853
Male 3, black, b. 1859
Male 9, black b. 1851
Male 2, mulatto, b. 1858
About this time, William H. Cureton was still a bachelor. Given the age range of the ‘mulattos’ listed, it’s possible that one was a descendant of both Abner Heath Cureton and the other a descendant of William H. Cureton. The schedule seems to reflect only one or two enslaved families. Who were these mixed-race enslaved people and could I find out more about them after Emancipation when formerly enslaved were finally listed in the national census?
Interestingly, a Cureton ancestor shared in the book Soil Conservation, that General Sherman’s army camped on the plantation at the Cureton-Huff house where “some of his soldiers stood on the portico and shot chickens off the smokehouse.”
In 1870 after the Civil War, two households away from William H. Cureton, lived Eliza Cureton, age 49, b. 1821, a black woman born in Virginia, was head of household. Her household members according to the census were:
James, 24
David, 19
John T., 16
Ferdinand, 12
Christopher Columbus, 11
Emma, 6
Alice, 9
Their ethnicity was listed as black. However subsequent censuses record the ethnicity of Eliza and her children as mulatto. Some individuals in her household are her children, as supported in later documents. They include James, David, John T., Ferdinand, Emma, Alice.
Other records show Eliza also had two more daughters Sarah Anna York and Mary Frances also known as “Mamie”, and possibly another son named William M. Cureton. On the 1880 census, Sarah Anna’s last name is listed as ‘York’ which I initially thought to be the surname of a former husband. I eventually learned her siblings referred to their mother as ‘Eliza York.’
Contemporary African American descendants of Eliza York’s family share a fascinating oral lore about their origins. The story goes that William Henry Cureton did father children with his enslaved women, and not just one, but two enslaved families. The first family was with Eliza, the second was with his own biological daughter, Sarah Anna York. In a brazen act of incest and “breeding” common throughout slavery, William H., fathered several Eliza York’s children, as well as Sarah Anna’s children; Columbus, Alice, Emma, Ferdinand, and Lidia Cureton. Another oral story about Sarah’s mother stated that her daughter Mary Frances “Mamie” Sizer (nee’ Cureton) was the daughter of an Apache slavetrader, though this is clearly not true. On the oral history, I have not found any documented evidence that Sarah’s children were William’s. The family lore is still held however by the black descendants of William H. Cureton and Eliza York and maintained by several family historians, including Samuel Roberts, a descendant of William M. Cureton. Samuel has been researching for over thirty years and was the first to identify an 1865 Freedmen’s Bureau contract between William H. Cureton, and Eliza York (“Cureton” on the document) that named her children and showed her family structure.
Of course, it’s also possible members of Eliza’s family, siblings, and parents may have been enslaved nearby, perhaps the adjoining plantation of Pascal D. Cureton. Pascal was first cousin of William H. Cureton and their fathers together ran an industrial-level operation using slaves on plantations and mills. There were likely very close ties between the enslaved communities on both plantations. It’s possible these enslaved families formed one interconnected community with familial bonds. However, mixed-race children of a planter would afford that enslaved family a higher status among their peers. We know for certain that Joe Sherman was enslaved on William H. Cureton’s plantation alongside William’s concubine and several of his mixed-race children.
John T. Cureton, “mulatto” son of William H. Cureton and Eliza York. Image enhanced and colorized. Source. Samuel Roberts, Ancestry.com
On the 1880 census, it’s clear that these formerly enslaver and enslaved families remained living close to one another well after emancipation. Next door to William H. are two households headed by his mixed-race sons, their ethnicity listed as mulatto. John Cureton b. 1855 is likely the mulatto male b. 1853 in listed on the 1860 slave schedule. James Cureton, also mulatto, b. 1850 could be the other mulatto male b. 1851 according to the slave schedule.
The surname York also appears on several related records. The first appearance of the surname is on the death certificate of Eliza’s mixed-race son, John T. Cureton (1854 –1928) which names ‘William Cureton’ as his father and ‘Eliza York’ as his mother. Here we also see the first record officially naming William H. Cureton as the progenitor of a mixed-race household that started in slavery.
Death certificate of John T. Cureton naming William Cureton and Eliza York as his parents.
Eliza’s daughter, Sarah Anna York lists her surname as York on the 1880, 1900, 1910, and 1920 census records. The last instance of the name is on the death certificate of Christopher Columbus Cureton (1858–1949), except he also lists ‘William Cureton’ as his father and ‘Mary York’ as his mother. This last detail conflicts with the oral history of the mixed-race descendants that declared Christopher was the son of Sarah Anna York and Wiliam H. Cureton. It appears he was Eliza’s son instead. Descendant research of the York-Cureton family doesn’t quite settle on whether Mary and Eliza were distinct individuals or the same person, but she is often referred to as “Eliza” York in family trees consistent with census records, which I use as well.
MARIE SHERMAN AND ELIZA YORK – SISTERS.
Was my ancestor Marie Sherman, related to Eliza York, the enslaved concubine of William H. Cureton?
There is very strong evidence to support this. A search of my maternal DNA matches produced both white and black DNA cousins with Cureton surnames from Virginia and South Carolina in their family trees. We shared enough DNA to indicate that we had a common ancestor about 5 generations back for each of us. This could be one or more parents of Eliza York, one of whom we know likely had the surname “York.”
We have the information from census records that state Marie Sherman was born in Virginia about 1830, and the records that show her husband Joe was later sold to the Cureton plantation by a man named Henry Sherman. The Cureton, Moon, and Walker families, early Greenville pioneers, were all originally from British colonial Lunenberg and Prince George Counties in Virginia. So was Marie also descended from a line of enslaved people who were forcibly migrated from Lunenburg to Greenville with the Curetons? Cureton DNA passed through Marie to her daughter Harriet Sherman and of course to her Mays descendants, including me.
Searching Ancestry.com and MyHeritage, I found several Black Ancestry DNA matches with ancestors from Greenville with the surname Cureton and Virginia roots. The genealogy tools predict that several of these matches were third cousins—one full and two half-cousins—and their family trees indicate they were direct descendants of Eliza York and William Cureton’s mixed-race son, James T. Cureton. The evidence points to a shared common ancestor, likely a fourth great-grandparent. That ancestor is at least one parent of Eliza York.
York and Cureton pedigree triangulation with Ancestry Thrulines tool demonstrating a common descendency from the York sisters, Eliza and Marie.
Another of my white descendent AncestryDNA matches with Cureton ancestors from Greenville is a direct descendant of Mary Cureton (1780-1849) and Col. Henry Tandy Walker (1779-1841). Recall Mary was the daughter of John Cureton Jr. and Sarah Moon. Mary Cureton and Col. Walker were the great aunt and uncle of William H. Cureton. Both were born in Lunenburg, Virginia and also migrated to Greenville where they were wed in the early 1800s. Here was an obvious genetic and kinship network of black and white, enslaver and enslaved, associated peoples from as early as the mid-1700s in Lunenburg through the Reconstruction period in Greenville, reflected in the modern DNA of their descendants – and I was among them!
If my ancestor, Marie Sherman, was born in Virginia, likely on the Cureton plantation in Lunenburg, could John Cureton Jr. or Abner Cureton have been the biological father of Marie and Eliza? If so, that would mean Marie and Eliza were both descendants of enslaved African Americans, the Cureton and the Moon families.
Another fourth cousin AncestryDNA match traced directly back to Richard Moon of Lunenburg, the father of Gideon Moon, the patriarch of the Moon family that migrated to Greenville around the same time as the Curetons. Recall that Gideon’s daughter, Sarah, was William H. Cureton’s grandmother.
1866 Freedmens Bureau labor contract between William H. Cureton and Eliza York and children. Source. U.S. Freedmen’s Bureau Records 1865 – 1878.
Beyond DNA evidence, the paper trail widens during Reconstruction, when former enslavers entered into agreements with their formerly enslaved. For family historians, contracts created by the Freedmen’s Bureau are invaluable records, often serving as the first official documents to include the names of formerly enslaved individuals, and sometimes their enslavers. These records can reveal family connections, relationships with enslavers, and much more. They often document the first instances of compensation by enslavers after generations of forced and stolen labor. These agreements were a source of pride, dignity, and power that helped early freemen establish a foothold in society as farmers, landowners, and citizens. As I’ve shared, the family of Eliza York contracted with William H. Cureton in the immediate aftermath of the Civil War.
“William, Eliza and her children and Grandchildren “viz” Sarah, Mary, James and David and five small ones” on the first day of January 1866 in the consideration of their labor were to receive “board them and give them two suits and one pair of shoes each and one field to plant and cultivate in corn, supposed to be 14 acres, the said William to have one half and Eliza and her family the other half. Also one hog to William and three to Eliza and her family.”
The contract between William H. and Eliza York and her children shows that they did not remain in the concubinage relationship and likely ceased cohabiting. It may have ended after the birth of children, or even, if the stories are true after William sustained a relationship with Eliza’s daughter Sarah Anna over several years producing children. We can say the neither relationship could ever be fully consensual given the power imbalance between enslavers and their enslaved. No matter whether there was affection or love or even coupling out of convenience, Eliza and Sara Anna could never be free to make their own choices for themselves or their children. Perhaps it became untenable to Greenville society as well after the Civil War to change the status of his formerly enslaved black family through Eliza or Sarah Anna’s concubinage to something of a legal and voluntary status, or to change his status from bachelor to married to a black woman, who was formerly his enslaved. Either way, William H. made the decision not to marry Eliza, but instead his white widowed cousin. Sarah certainly never took the surname Cureton. Though Eliza did after emancipation, it’s telling that her children used the surname York in referring to her and not Cureton.
William H. Cureton ceased being a bachelor when he married Ann W. Cureton, the widowed sister of Pascal D. Cureton, his widowed neighbor sometime between 1860 and 1870. They supposedly had a daughter, Lillian, in 1867 but it’s doubtful given Ann’s age. She was probably an adopted relative. Lillian went to school in her early teens, moved away, married, and then died young in Oregon in 1897 without children.
Eliza’s and William H. Cureton’s children were listed as Wiliam Sarah, Mary, James, and David – the “five small ones” on the contract were Eliza’s grandchildren. William M. appears later in the household of William H.’s brother George Washington Cureton. After emancipation, the children of Eliza York remained in Grove District near Fork Shoals. The 1870 Agricultural census shows that Eliza and her sons farming produced 50 bushels of corn, and that they did indeed own 3 hogs. The 15 acres were worth about $720. Eliza seems to have died between 1880 and 1900, and doesn’t appear on the record after 1880.
William H. Cureton’s cousin Pascal also entered into a contract with several black freeman named to work his lands in exchange for provisions; Moses and his wife Harriet, Taylor, Albert, and William. Williams’ brother Thomas Jefferson Cureton did the same, forging a contract with Cicero Cureton and his wife Silva and daughter Hannah, also Isham Stokes and his wife Julia. William’s other brother George Washington entered into a contract with a freeman named Dale Johnson. While such contracts were hardly fair by today’s standards, the formerly enslaved were basically bartering for basic provisions, room and board, for continuing to farm or manage a kitchen, at least former enslavers for the first time in American history, had to deal with their former bondsmen in federally enforced labor contracts.
It is striking to see how the same people who enslaved blacks had to eventually negotiate with them to develop agreements to work their farms during Reconstruction, this after renouncing the Confederate States of America and several long years of bitter war. Most whites found it galling and an attack on their worldview of white supremacy to see blacks armed and marching in their streets, demanding education, pay and wages; this call for suffrage happened whilst newly freed blacks were also daily sharing complaints of abuse to the Freedmen’s Bureau. As was the case with William H. Cureton and Eliza York and her family, the former slaves of white planters, who in some cases were also biological family members, witnessed the complete upheaval of their centuries-old power structure and turned once again to the violence they were so accustomed too as enslavers. White leadership historically responded to this upending of their status with beatings, attacks, murders, and other forms of racial terror, leading to coups of local integrated South Carolina county governments that appeared to destroy the hope of Reconstruction.
Oral family history suggests William H. Cureton gave his mixed-race sons land. However, a thorough examination of land deeds in Greenville County shows he did not. According to the agricultural census John T. Cureton did farm 50 acres of land in 1880 but it was as a tenant farmer. By 1920, he did become a landowner under his own volition. His brother William M. Cureton owned land earlier by 1900. William M. could read but not write. John T. could read and write by 1880. More family lore about William H. Cureton states he may have had a third enslaved family in Anderson County. However, I can find no evidence of this either, nor can I find court records or deeds suggesting he ever lived in any other county other than Greenville. There were Curetons in Anderson. John T. Cureton raised and family in Anderson and passed away there intestate (without a will) in 1928.
There are examples of enslavers heading enslaved families throughout antebellum American history. We can not know the details of Eliza York and William H. Cureton’s relationship. Was it a loving marriage of equals? Almost certainly not.
William H. could have freed Eliza and his mixed-race children outright. He did not. After emancipation and the arrival of the Freedmen’s Bureau, he could have gifted land to Eliza and his his children. He did not. In fact, he made them all sign contracts with the Freedmen’s Bureau to enforce their continued servitude on his land. William H. might have rented parcels of lands to some of his mixed-race children to farm, but there’s no evidence of that either.
Eliza York could have left Grove with her children upon gaining her freedom fully in 1865 after the war, but instead she stayed nearby. Her sons John and James were bound to the land as tenant farmers. Another son, William M. Cureton, appears to have had a tougher time. After removing to Anderson County he was arrested for larceny and spent 2 years in prison. William H. died intestate, without a will, in 1893 and is buried in the cemetery at Sandy Springs Baptist Church in Pelzer, Greenville. It’s unclear who received his estate (his white wife Ann and daughter Lillian?) or if it was simply auctioned off. I haven’t found administration records for the estate yet. His wife Ann died 7 years later.
Tragically, I don’t know where Eliza York is buried either. Joe and Marie Sherman are likely buried at Mt. Pleasant Baptist Church in Gantt, a black church co-founded by the Mays family.
The period immediately after the enslaved gained their freedom was volatile and dangerous. Complaints and reports by blacks of brutalization, beatings, and extrajudicial murders – lynchings perpetrated by their white neighbors were high. In Greenville in October of 1865, a free man named George, who was formerly enslaved by George Washington Cureton, brother to William H. Cureton, was murdered, shot in the heart. The local police, reminiscent of the slave patrols, invaded his home after midnight according to a Coroner’s inquest. George defending himself swung an axe, cutting the throat of one of the men. The others testified they shot George immediately out of self-defense. It’s unclear why the patrollers broke into George’s home seeking him to begin with, but clearly, he was afraid for his life. Defending his freedom cost him his life.
Looking for work and escape from racial terror, some of the black Curetons followed their children on the Great Migration north and west to Ohio, Pennsylvania, Indiana, Michigan, New York, and even further. Still, many remained under the brutally repressive Jim Crow era rooted to the Piedmont.
Resilience defined the relationships of the enslaved and newly freed. Eliza’s sister Marie found a partner under the crushing yoke of slavery in Joe Sherman. There’s no evidence of a wedding, but I imagine Marie and Joe “jumped the broom” as was tradition, and together they had a child, my great-great grandmother Harriet while they slaved away in a Cureton mill or field. Harriet Sherman and her parents would become eventually be freed and thus, Harriet could marry Jim Mays, on her own terms.
THE MAYS AND YORKS CONNECT.
With the insight and DNA evidence that Marie Sherman was a York, I reexamined my Sherman and Mays family trees. I soon discovered more documented ties between the York and Sherman families through blood and marriage. My great granduncle Benjamin “Frank” Mays married a York!
Eliza York’s daughter, Sarah Anna York (b.1840 – about 1920) had several children, supposedly with William H. Cureton. They were reported as Columbus, Ferdinand, Alice, and Lydia (also spelled Lidia and Lidy). Sarah York appears on the 1880, 1900, 1910, and 1920 census. Sarah’s children were in her mother Eliza’s household during the 1870 census but she was missing. The 1870 census did not have a field for family relationships.
Sarah Anna York (1841 – 1920), daughter of Eliza York and William H. Cureton. Image, enhanced and colorized. Source. Samuel Roberts, Ancestry.com
However, in 1880, Sarah York, age 39, is found in the household of her daughter Alice, age 18, who has since married William Mattison “Matt” Garrett, age 25, in the Gantt district just north of Grove. Sarah’s youngest daughter Lydia, age 12, is also living with her sister and brother-in-law. Columbus and Ferdinand were in their own households. Further confirming the York Sherman ties, next door to Matt and Alice lives Marie Sherman (nee’ York), Sarah’s aunt! Marie, age 50, is widowed and living with her two eldest sons Tandy, age 20, and Henry, age 17.
Around 1895, Lydia married my great-granduncle Frank Mays, and by the 1900 census can be found living in the Gantt district. Sarah is found living with Lydia and Frank! Lydia died in 1920 childless and Frank Mays remarried at which Sarah moved out of the household. Frank was also Lydia’s first half-cousin 3x removed, and the son of my great-great grandparents Jim Mays and Harriet Sherman, grandson of Marie Sherman (nee’ York), grandnephew of Eliza York.
Sarah Anna York is last found on the 1920 census at the age of 78 living in Garvin, in Anderson County near the city of Pendleton. She was living with her granddaughter Myrtle and her husband Pinkney Bruce. Myrtle was the first daughter of Emma V. Cureton. Sarah appears to have passed away sometime after 1920. I’m not surprised Sarah kept her surname York throughout her life, however, her children did use the surname Cureton, lending some credibility to the claim that they may were fathered by William H. Cureton.
With a clearer understanding of the Curetons, it was time to shift my attention to Joseph Sherman’s first enslaver, Henry Sherman.
THE Planter & Teacher.
The enslaver Henry Sherman, who sold my ancestor Joe Sherman to William Henry Cureton, first purchased a significant amount of land in Greenville in 1833 from Major George Seaborn, paying $2,500 for 500 acres stretching from Bakers Creek on the Reedy River to Golden Grove in the Grove District. Sherman may have arrived after 1830, as he does not appear in the 1830 census for the area.
Major George Seaborn, a planter born and raised in Greenville, was the son of George Seaborn Sr., who enslaved seventeen people in 1820. It is not surprising George Jr. followed in his father’s footsteps, becoming a successful domestic slave trader. By 1840, he enslaved seven people on his own farm, according to census records. Around 1850, Seaborn moved to the town of Pendleton in nearby Anderson County and founded the influential journal Farmer and the Planter, which was widely advertised in South Carolina newspapers. The journal featured reprints and original articles on topics ranging from cotton farming and animal husbandry to advice on managing enslaved people. Seaborn also served as Secretary and Treasurer of the State Agricultural Society. His success in farming and the slave trade made him a wealthy man.
The land Henry Sherman acquired from Maj. Seaborn in Greenville was adjacent to property owned by David T. Cureton, who enslaved at least ten people on his plantation.
Henry Sherman probably arrived in Greenville between 1830 and 1833, purchased land from Major Seaborn, then was appointed postmaster in Sterling Grove in 1837. Sherman, Pascal Cureton, and J. Moon are signatories to a “Petition to Amend the Laws on Usury made by the Citizens of Greenville” in the 1830s further demonstrating the closeness of this planter community.
According to the 1840 census, Henry Sherman was between 30 and 39 years old, probably born between 1810 and 1819. He was married with two children under 9 in the household. Sherman owned three slaves, one man between 10 and 23, and two females between 10 and 23 years old. According to The Centennial Celebration of Northborough (Massachusetts), “George and Henry Sherman who taught school many years in Greenville, SC. were natives of this town.” I confirmed this in the 1850 census where George’s birthplace was listed as Massachusetts, and his occupation as “school teacher.” Just a few years before, the Greenville Mountaineer reported Henry Sherman of Northborough Massachusetts had married Miss Caroline M., daughter of Philip Evans of the District in April 1832.
Massachusetts ended slavery in 1783 however much of its fortune was still fueled by the importation of cotton to textile mills. Even though Worcester, the largest town close to Northborough outside of Boston became a center of industry and abolition, the Shermans were drawn south and there found farming and slave-owning a business worth pursuing.
In 1842 Henry Sherman sold 300 acres of his land on Grove Creek to James Pickett. Sherman appears in several records between 1800 and 1849, including as a witness to a neighbor’s will. In 1845 with Pascal D. Cureton, Abner Cureton’s nephew, also Henry witnessed the sale of nearby land, showing he was a contemporary and neighbor of the Cureton clan. A year later, another land deal, one that failed, further connected my enslaved maternal ancestors to Sherman.
In April 1838, George and Henry Sherman became indebted to Col. William Choice for $500. George, who was regarded as insolvent, was the principal on the note to Col. Choice, while Henry was solvent. To settle a judgment against him, Henry negotiated a second $500 loan from Laurence Lenhardt, securing it with a note and a mortgage on 250 acres of his land. The judgment against Henry remained unsatisfied. Sherman could not pay Lenhardt back and in May 1848, the Greenville sheriff levied 150 acres of Sherman’s land to collect the debt, with Lenhardt attempting to force Franklin Wynne who signed a surety on the mortgage into a payment arrangement that was rejected. Lenhardt then went on to pursue the property of Wynne, indicating a continuous effort to exploit the judgment against Sherman.
Sherman wasn’t alone in this financial struggle; George Sherman and Benjamin Franklin Wynne were also bound by the debts they owed to Laurence Lenhardt, a planter and miller. George Sherman and Franklin Wynne appeared to reside in nearby Brushy Creek in Anderson County. I found numerous court records showing his creditors were coming after him and his brother George. His guarantor Wynne felt duped by Henry Sherman’s various loan schemes and sued him.
Henry Sherman’s mounting debts forced him into a desperate gamble. To clear his portion of the debt, in 1846, Henry began liquidating his assets. He mortgaged all the land he owned, including the land he lived on, and gave a bond to Lenhardt for “all that tract of land whereon I now live, containing 250 acres more or less, situated in Greenville District in the State aforesaid, on the waters of Grove Creek.” Sherman made the bond in the presence of two prominent Greenvillians, Col. William Choice and Jesse Gilreath.
Col. Choice, Jesse Gilreath, and Laurence Lenhardt are familiar names in the Mays-Sherman family story! Through previous research, I learned that immediately after the Civil War, my eldest enslaved ancestors from Greenville, Alec Choice and Sylvia Choice (née Few), were living “in destitution” on Lenhardt’s Grove plantation, according to Freedmen’s Bureau records. The Bureau worked to identify people in urgent need of supplies, particularly the elderly, sick, or poor—both Black and white—across the South. Alec was likely enslaved on the Choice plantation, and Sylvia on the Few plantation, initially in the O’Neal District. Sylvia was the grandmother of my great-great-grandfather, Jim Mays. Jim Mays was the father of Ben Franklin Mays who married Lydia York, Sarah York’s second daughter, reputedly with William H. Cureton. As noted in The Mays: Early Origins of Mays of Greenville, the Mays family descends from the Gilreaths. Joe Sherman’s son-in-law, Jim Mays, was the grandson of Hardy Jones Gilreath.
While Henry Sherman’s enslaved people were not part of the initial deal witnessed by Col. Choice and Jesse Gilreath, Sherman was in significant debt and so mortgaged his enslaved people, using his land and property as collateral for repayment to various creditors. This indicates that Sherman was at least acquainted with other enslavers of my ancestors; many were prominent members of the Greenvillians. This shows that the kinship network between enslavers in a community like Greenville, also extended to their enslaved, from plantation to plantation.
In 1846, Sherman continued to clear his debts which included a $400 note with Edmund Waddell, then he mortgaged Jo and Peter, two of his enslaved to William H. Cureton. I do not believe he ever repaid the debt and thus Jo and Peter became permanent property of Cureton. Joseph Sherman, my 3x great-grandfather, became a Cureton asset.
In 1849, Henry Sherman sold another 250 acres on “the waters of Grove creek” for $1200 to one David McCullough. In February 1850, Sherman continued to liquidate his assets and he turned back to his enslaved. He mortgaged his enslaved woman and her child, “Sarah aged twenty-two and herinfant Phillis about four months old,” to Matthew Tyler Hudson of Rocky Creek in Greenville for the sum of $400.
The enslaved woman Sarah was 6 years younger than my ancestor Joe, born about 1827. Was she related to Joe or Peter Sherman, perhaps a sister, maybe a spouse?
Matthew Tyler Hudson (1791 – 1863) was a farmer and enslaver with 15 people in bondage on his farm according to the 1850 Slave Schedule taken in November of that year. Sadly, a 22 year old woman and 1 year old infant do not appear among the anonymous hashmarks of the schedule. Did Sarah and Phillis ever arrive on the Hudson farm at all or did they remain with Henry Sherman, only mortgaged to Hudson? When Hudson passed, he directed his estate be appraised and split between his wife and children but no mention of his enslaved.
I can find no further records for Sarah or Phillis, or Peter Sherman in records. Since I learned William H. Cureton was a part-time slave trader, was Henry? Were they sold away like Jane, Caroline, and Stephen? I would like to find them.
Henry Sherman may have climbed out of debt and left the area, perhaps to Anderson County with his brother George, because he and his family no longer appear on the records in Greenville after 1850. Over nearly 20 years, Sherman’s efforts to farm with the enslaved labor, probably using Major Seaborne’s famous farming techniques based on how to be a model plantation owner, slave driver, and farmer, had utterly failed him.
THe SHERMAN STORY IS the YORK STORY.
In reviewing my theory about the origins of my great-great-great grandparents Joe and Marie Sherman, I have uncovered telltale patterns of the enslaved-enslaver relationship through genetic clusters of Black and white DNA cousins, aligning with the paper trail of associated planter families and their enslaved spanning from Virginia to South Carolina. These families, in the Grove and Gantt districts, as well as the O’Neal district, had documented interrelations across plantations through marriage, business, and migration.
I also have evidence of genetic ancestry linking my family to at least three of these antebellum Greenville families: the Choice, Walker, and Cureton families. I have shown that the black Curetons are indeed ancestors and connected to my Sherman family through the marriage of a sister, Marie, formerly unknown to the many descendants of William H. Cureton and Eliza York.
Joe Sherman and Marie York named two of their children Henry and Tandy Walker. Were they named after William M. Cureton’s sons, Henry and Tandy, or more likely after Col. Henry Tandy Walker, Abner Cureton’s brother-in-law? If Marie York first served in the Cureton household, rather than in the fields, she would have had intimate knowledge of the Cureton family and their extended relations, or she may have learned these details through her sister Eliza York, who was William H. Cureton’s concubine.
1882 Grove district map in Greenville County featuring land of white Curetons.
In one scenario, I imagine my ancestor Joe Sherman, once enslaved by Henry Sherman, emerging from the plantation in 1865 after working the land for the Cureton family for nearly 20 years. Joe met his wife, Marie York, who was also enslaved on the Cureton plantation. They had their first child, Harriet, on the farm in 1848. Although Joe may have been separated from his family on the Sherman plantation, it’s possible he had a sibling named Peter on the Cureton farm too. Joe was fortunate that Henry Sherman did not sell him further south to feed ‘King Cotton’ and clear his debts. Peter may not have survived, as there is no record of him after emancipation. Joe survived and maintained ties to his community in Grove. It was Joe and Marie’s hard labor, along with that of other enslaved people and families on the farm that built the wealth and success of William H. Cureton.
DNA research suggests that Marie York’s ancestor was white or mixed-race, likely a Cureton. Marie York may have been the enslaved biological daughter of Abner Cureton, whose family migrated from Lunenburg, Virginia, to Greenville, South Carolina along with the Moons’. Marie’s sister, Eliza York, became the enslaved concubine of William H. Cureton, and together they had at least four children. Marie’s grandson, Frank Mays, would later marry his cousin, Lydia York.
Eliza was not without agency. The dynamics of slavery always reveal the porosity of boundaries, especially the notion of what was a “traditional” family. William H. maintained his enslaved family and did not take a wife until the schism of the Civil War. I can only imagine the pressure the split between the North and South created on white men and enslaved African women who were in illegal relationships. This war likely threatened the ability of Eliza to keep her family together. What kind of negotiations did she have to make? When William H. finally took a white wife, a relation, how did the household dynamics shift? I am hopeful there is a Cureton history, a plantation book, diary, or bible, that William H. left behind to further shine a light on this fascinating family history.
Marie Sherman (widowed) lived next door to her niece Sarah York and Sarah’s children Alice and Lidia in 1880 in the Gantt district of Greenville.
The mixed-race children of Eliza York became a large and diverse family after emancipation spread out over Greenville and Anderson counties. Today, African American Cureton descendants still hold reunions with family traveling from over a dozen states. The Cureton family is well documented and researched, and I hope the inclusion of Joseph Sherman and Marie York in the family history will help them better understand their connection to the Mays-Sherman family of Greenville and why Eliza’s daughter Sarah York moved with her daughter Lydia Mays (nee’ York) to the Gantt District. My research revealed that William H., also known by his children as “Bocto” – the white patriarch of the Cureton family was a farmer, miller, and confirmed slave trader. I was able to document him as the father of at least one member of his enslaved family.
And what of York? Was the surname derived from Eliza’s father? York is a common male first name. A search of the South Carolina Department of Archives for the name York (slave) generates no fewer than 142 instances across a dozen counties. And of course, York was a county in South Carolina as well. For now, the name remains a mystery. Eliza was born in Virginia and the county of York was derived from Charles Rivershire and is a tidewater community bordering Williamsburg and Newport News, west of Lunenburg county where the Cureton family was settled. Was York enslaved on the John Moon Cureton’s plantation near John’s son William? We may never know.
Soon new tools fueled by AI will provide even more access to our shared history locked away in obscure archives, identifying migration patterns for entire family lines based on scans of land deeds, census, and other data. I’m particularly excited to see more databases at FamilySearch become fully searchable by their AI tool. As documents are digitized and share, our understanding of how deeply interwoven the relationships were between our antebellum ancestors – those who were born and lived before the end of slavery, enslavers and the enslaved, kith and kin. Now, with genetic genealogy, traditional research methods, and AI-enhanced full-text search, previously indecipherable documents buried in obscure archives are becoming searchable, word by word. These advances highlight the importance of researching not only our direct ancestors but their entire community—their friends and neighbors—to break down the 1870 census ‘brick wall’ for African Americans.
Many Black families, including that of my great grandfather Van Matthew Mays, left the Jim Crow South for Ohio, carrying with them traditions that connected them to their kin back on the farm. Today, we have a deeper understanding of those connections. Recovering history and unraveling the complex web of familial relationships is now more achievable thanks to the digitization of family records, where key documents can unlock an entirely new understanding of our past, like the bill of sale of ‘Jo’ by Henry Sherman to William H. Cureton.
SOURCES.
Cureton, Abner H. Of Greenville District, Will. Mss Will: Will Book C, Pages 316-319; Estate Packet: Apt 12, File 48. South Carolina Department of Archives and History, 3 Mar. 1850.
Roberts, Samuel, Snr. The History of the Cureton Family. 2018.
Thompson, Pat. “I Came By Way of Somebody.” Family history of Mays, Sherman, Ladson. 2004. 6th Edition.
“Greenville, South Carolina, United States records,” “Mortage of Negroes, William H. Cureton, Henry Sherman” Images, FamilySearch.
What’s in a name? To African Americans descended from enslaved people who were in turn descended from free people in West Africa of many nations, everything. African names did not just signify personal identity, but tribal and regional identity as well; the Yoruba, Wolof, Mandinka, Akan, Fon, and Igbo were all different ethnic groups stolen and sold into slavery, each with different languages and cultures. There were many Africans with Portuguese names sold into slavery who had converted to Catholicism and spoke Portuguese as Portugal was the first European enslaver in West Africa. During the 400 years of slavery, as African names were stripped away, enslaved peoples were given first Spanish, then English names as a practical management tool over an expanding global workforce of colonization and dispossession. Over time, even surnames were omitted to further leash the slave to the master. Escaped slaves or slaves sold away might take a new name but incorporate a geographical place as a way of reclaiming power over their identity. They might also take the name in the hopes they might find a way home someday to families they were forced to leave behind. After Emancipation, the freeing of over 3 million black people mostly in the South, a few blacks renamed themselves but most kept the surname of a former enslaver. This is where the surname Mays originates in my mother’s paternal family.
The Mays Family of Cleveland. Art O’Neal Mays, third from left, standing, about 1944, grandson of Jim Mays of Greenville, formerly enslaved between 1847 and 1865.
I’ve learned that the very name of my late grandfather Arthur O’Neal Mays (1913 – 2001) holds a secret to the origins of our earliest recorded Mays family origins. That clue connects several families from antebellum Greenville, South Carolina, black and white. The Mays, Walker, Few, Gilreath surnames align on the paternal Mays line recovered from dusty archives and digital databases, and years of genealogy sleuthing. My grandfather’s unusual middle name O’Neal is a compass of sorts pointing backwards in time, across generations to a time not long after the revolution in the piedmont of South Carolina. Art, as my grandfather was called, was born in Greenville in the Gantt District in 1913 on his grandmother Harriet May’s farm to Van Mays and Elivra Higdon. His grandfather Jim was born about 1847, enslaved. Jim passed away 3 years before Art’s death at the age of 63. Art was just 6 years old when his parents joined the Great Migration out of the South, leaving behind the crippling life of Jim Crow with all its indignities for black people, for the promise of industrial jobs and more opportunity in the North. Though the Mays landed in Cleveland, new research has revealed the earliest geographical location of the African American Mays on record, and their earliest enslavers. By combining traditional document-based research and genetic genealogy of several “genetic networks” between white and black lineages in 18th-century South Carolina, I cracked a code to a cypher passed down through generations.
My maternal grandfather, Art O’Neal Mays, 1937, (l) Art O’Neal Mays (r) about 1980.
In the ancestral hunting lands of the Cherokee, a few miles north of Greenville, just east of Paris Mountain, renamed for Richard Pearis the early loyalist settler, is a fertile set of valleys along the Saluda Gap, nestled between the Enoree River and South Tyger River. Not far from the main highway between Greenville and Spartanburg, the area was populated by independent communities made up of farms, mills, and plantations and towns like Milford, Chick Springs, and Traveler’s Rest, but at their center was an area first known as “Moonville.” Today, the manmade Lake Robinson covers the fields and cabins of several plantations my ancestors were forced to cultivate for several different white enslavers in the Blue Ridge along the Tyger River. The antebellum farms were led by the Few, Walker, Gilreath, and Mays families. These high land millers, planters, and farmers adopted enslaved labor to carve out a life in the mountainous and cool valleys along the northern border of South Carolina, far from the hot swampy lowcountry around Charleston. In fact, Greenville and the surrounding area became known for its resorts for wealthy Charleston elites trying to beat the heat. The springs, hollers, and woods were first and second homesteads, and eventually the foundation for a new community spread across the many districts.
In 1825 the “Greenville” district was expansive stretching from the Saluda River to the edge of the Glassy Mountains in the Blue Ridge. Spartanburg was to the East. Over time, Greenville was subdivided into 15 districts. The Northern districts included Bates, Cleveland, Highland, Glassy Mountain, Greer, and Saluda…and O’Neal. Here was my grandfather’s middle name, pointing to a Greenville District I had never heard of before.
O’Neal District was named for John Belton O’Neal (1793-1863), a judge for South Carolina’s supreme court. O’Neal famously wrote “The Negro Law of South Carolina” in 1848 preaching humane treatment of the enslaved. Yet in his hypocrisy, the Judge held in bondage over 150 Africans himself. Of course, the book was denounced by the planter class and elites as abolitionist drivel.
John Belton O’Neal, in office. Author, “The Negro Law of South Carolina.”
I have written about how I used both genetic and traditional genealogy to unearth the identity of my 4x maternal grandmother Mariah Walker (1825 – d. before 1900), originally enslaved in Greenville, South Carolina. Mariah was the mother of two sets of families; the Mays and Walkers. The Mays boys came first and included her sons Sam Mays (1843 – d. after 1900), Oliver Mays (1845 – d. after 1900), and my great-great-grandfather Jim Mays (1847 – 1910). I discovered this largely by researching genetic connections with DNA matches on Ancestry.com, and exploring family history records of associated families. Mariah’s second family, according to various records was with a man named Pleasant Walker (1825 – d. about 1890). Together they had 10 more children between 1852 and 1871.
In conversations with my late cousin Pat Thompson (1939 – 2024), our Mays and Sherman family historian, she often lamented not being able to go further than Jim Mays. Family lore suggested Jim did not even know the identity of his parents himself. Though I’m currently researching the Mays, I couldn’t do it without my Walker descendant cousins testing on Ancestry that helped recover Jim’s connection to his mother Mariah. My research over the last several years debunked that myth and recovered important details during the period of Reconstruction after the Civil War. First, Jim and his family appear on the record living in the Gannt District, southeast of downtown Greenville as farmers – living close by both his mother’s first and second families, the Mays and Walkers. Henry Mays lived next door in 1870 and by 1880 Mariah and her family also lived on the White Horse Pike in Gannt. Both families also came together to found Mt. Pleasant Church on White Horse Pike during the turn of the century. The Mays and Walkers even had a funeral home business together in the early 1900s in Greenville. I imagined the condition of the Mays sons’ father was probably challenging. He was either a white man or an enslaved mulatto. The exact history of the lineage faded as the family turned away from the painful legacy of slavery. Or Jim’s family simply held a secret so close that their descendants did not speak about it.
According to cousin Pat Thompson and other researchers, the Mays family origins were associated with a Greenville plantation near “Moons.” Exactly which Moon’s, was however unclear. Records in historic Greenville newspapers show “Moonville” may have referred to multiple villages around Greenville rooted in different plantations owned by related enslavers with the surname Moon. Several plantations across Greenville owned by members of the Moon family who originally settled in the area in the early 1800s by William Moon (1768 – 1833), son of Gideon Moon Sr. (1720 – 1781). The Moons were originally from Lunenburg, Virginia. Their extensive holdings and plantations in Virginia, and then South Carolina’s highlands from Grove to Mountain View, began first across none other than the O’Neal District, before expanding to Grove and Gannt Districts.
O’Neal District section, Greenville District, 1825. F. Lucas, Jr. for Mill’s Atlas. Moon’s (farm) is on Saluda Gap State Road, southwest of the South Fork of the Tyger River.
I had learned the name O’Neal references a Greenville district, and now, the Moons could be found in the very same district! Two areas of interest quickly emerged. The first was “Moonville Gin” on Saldua Gap State Road about 15 miles north of Greenville near Greer (now Highway 101), known first as “Moon’s Place.” Newspapers also mentioned “Moonville” about 9 miles south of Greenville in Piedmont which seemed too far. Were the Mays from Moonville in O’Neal, from an actual Moon family plantation?
Returning to my grandfather’s paternal family surname, I started combing maps of the area for farmsteads owned by a Mays family. Though there were several planters with the surname “Mays or Mayes” across Greenville throughout the 1800s, my research showed only one of them lived adjacentto a plantation owned by Gideon Moon, son of William Moon, the source of “Moon’s Place” in O’Neal. His full name? James Mays, born in England, he was a naturalized immigrant who lived in O’Neal district from about 1820 to 1865. He bore the same name as my 3x grandfather. None of these discoveries felt random, each felt like breadcrumbs leading me down a path.
Given the names and location, I knew I had found the right Moonville. I wanted to understand the entire community, to learn about this Englishman James Mays, his friends and neighbors, planters, millers, slave, and free. This “Moonville” along the South Fork of the Tyger River could hold vital information about Jim Mays and his family. I would need to thoroughly examine James Mays’ life and those of his neighbors. During the circuitous route family history research often takes, and after many months, I was surprised to find that Mariah Walker’s origins did indeed begin in O’Neal, but not on the Moon plantation, and not with James Mays. It began on the plantation of their neighbor just upriver, a man named William Few.
Mariah and Sylvia on the Few plantation.
I first hypothesized that Jim Mays’ mother, my 4x maternal grandmother Mariah’s maiden name was “Choice” in an article I wrote 5 years ago, The mays Family, One Step Closer to Home. I based my assumption on records about her eldest family members found on the 1870 household census. In the years after the fall of the Confederacy, when traditional planter life in the South was upended by the emancipation of millions of enslaved people, free black families were desperate to reunite. If they didn’t know where to find each other they asked agents in the new Freedmen’s Bureau to enquire; their pastors and community leaders placed thousands of ads in newspapers asking for the whereabouts of kin sold away. Though there is no official record listing Mariah’s surname as Choice, the elders in the 1870 census enumeration of the Mariah and Pleasant Walker families included Alec Choice and Sylvia Choice. I presumed Alec and Sylvia were Mariah’s parents and not her husband Pleasant Walker’s parents based on the surname. The elder Choices were also married and had been living in destitution on a plantation in Gantt District, according to the Freedmen’s Bureau records.
The Bureau for the Relief of Freedmen and Refugees task in Reconstruction America was to provide food, shelter, clothing, medical services, and land to displaced rural and impoverished Southerners, including newly freed Africans. According to the website Lowcountry Africana, “The major activities of the Freedmen’s Bureau in South Carolina generally resembled those conducted in other states. The Bureau issued rations and provided medical relief to both freedmen and white refugees, supervised labor contracts between planters and freedmen, administered justice, and worked with benevolent societies in the establishment of schools.” South Carolinian Freedmen were in dire need at the war’s end. “By mid-summer 1865, with help from the offices of the Commissary General of the Army, the Quartermaster General, and the Surgeon General, Saxton provided more than 300,000 rations, clothing, and medical supplies to nearly 9,000 destitute persons.” The Bureau also made tens of thousands of new records of the suddenly free Black population of South Carolina.
List of Destitute in Reed’s Beat, Greenville District, Freedmen’s Bureau. Aleck and Sylvia Choice, colored are “infirm” counted twice, reported living at Lenhart Mills (in Gantt District) about 1865.
Based on his surname, Alec Choice may have come off the plantation of a prominent Greenville planter named Col. William Choice Jr. (1796-1877). Col. Choice was the son of a Revolutionary War soldier who settled in Greenville in 1784. The Choices were all enslavers. After the Civil War, Alec and Sylvia were first listed on a record by the Freedmen’s Bureau living in destitution on a plantation in the Gantt District. They were already quite old. Alec was first listed as 65 years old, then 75. By the 1870 census, which was self-reported, he declared himself to be 100 and native born in Africa. Sylvia was 60 years old and together they had moved into the home of Mariah and Pleasant Walker. However, a surprising document made 67 years later showed I had more to learn about Sylvia.
In a 1937 Social Security application by Mariah Pleasant’s son John T. Walker, he wrote that his mother’s maiden name was actually “Few.” Because surnames of formerly enslaved were often the same as an enslaver, it was an indication that Alec or Sylvia had a one-time enslaver named Few. This simple name became another incredible detail that would unlock Mariah’s origin story. Like the name O’Neal, I looked for connections in the O’Neal District. I looked for the name Few.
Examining the planters of the Moonville neighborhood on O’Neal District maps throughout the 1800s, I immediately found the name Few on farms, a chapel, even a bridge across the Tyger River. The prominent Few family established themselves in Greenville around 1820 after he migrated from Orange County, North Carolina. The Fews also lived upriver of Moon’s Place, and the English American miller named James Mays! The Few homestead was on the northerly border of O’Neal and stretched into the High Land District along the South Fork of the Tyger River. Led by William Few (1771 – 1853) and his wife Susannah (maiden name’ Tubbs), the earliest Fews in the region were farmers and enslavers. William Few was the son of the infamous James Few, known as “the Regulator,” a pre-American Revolution insurrectionist who was hung by the Tories (English loyalists in America).
James Few was also the grandnephew of William Few Jr., (1748 -1828) a signer of the Constitution at the Continental Congress. There is evidence of the Few family holdings all over O’Neal; slaves on Slave Schedules; land, all over maps of the area including Few’s Chapel and Few’s Bridge on the Tyger river, now just north of the artificial Lake Robinson. Few’s Bridge was built with slave labor and later covered. Newspaper articles revealed that Few’s Chapel was the result of Reverend William Patton preaching at William Few’s log home in 1833 where the family went through a religious conversion. Though Patton was an abolitionist, William Few did not free his slaves. Most likely, Few’s enslaved would have been forced to worship alongside the family. The permanent church was built in 1874 on land donated by Few’s sons.
Section of Map of Greenville, O’Neal District section, by William Hudson. Few’s Church, Milford Church are along the South Fork of the Tyger River.
The Fews were Quakers who purportedly came from England with William Penn, and the family was said to originally hail from Wales. William Few and Susannah Tubbs permanently settled in Greenville around 1832, but they had several children before arriving in South Carolina as well.
William Few Sr. and Susannah (Tubbs) known children were:
Sarah Few, (m. John Donahue)
James Few, b. 1790 – 1860 (m. Lucinda West)
Malinda Few, b. 1796 -1867
William Few Jr., b. 1797 -1848 (m. Sarah Ferguson)
Rachel Few, b. 1797 – 1883 (m. Kendrick)
Matilda Few, b. 1800 – aft. 1850 (m. John Weaver
Mary Elizabeth “Betsy” Few, b. 1801 -1897 (m. Vinson Jenkins)
Susannah Few, b. 1803 – 1884 (m. Alston W. Kendrick)
Benjamin Few, b. 1805 – 1888 (m. 1st Mary Bramlett, 2nd Elizabeth Woodward)
Ignatius B. Few, b. 1807 – 1890 (m. Axy Few)
Ephraim L. Few, b. 1810 – 1885 (m. 1st Elizabeth Bramlett, 2nd Amanda Loftis)
Mary, b. 1812 – (m. John H. Walker)
Levina Few, b. 1813 – 1885 (m. 1st John P. Shockley, 2nd Robert Tomason)
Susannah Tubbs-Few died in 1816. William Few remarried. With his second wife Nancy Chastain (1789 – d. after 1834) he had two more children:
Martha “Patsy” Few, b. 1823 – 1878 (m. William H. Gilreath)
Celia Few, b. 1817 – 1885 (m. Allen Reese)
To more thoroughly explore this planter family, I wondered if I could once again rely on the wills and probate records of enslavers who died before emancipation to connect my ancestors to their plantation. Slaves were often “inventoried” among household objects and farm instruments and given a value. William Few Senior’s 1853 will became a treasure trove of pre-emancipation information. The will revealed the surnames of a dozen of his children. It included Few’s daughters’ married surnames (rarely enumerated before the 1850 census unless women were widowed head of households). The will also gave a clear description of Few’s 200 acres of land to be given to his daughters, Lavina, Rachel, Malinda, and Mary; adjacent to his son Ephraim’s farm.
“…The tract of land I now live on contained in the following boundaries Beginning at the bridge on South Tiger River running with the road leading to Greenville Court House up said road to a sycamore tree in the law on the South Said of said land – being the ing sycamore nearest my stables Thence a Smith East course until it strikes the corner of the fence near or on the branch, being Ephraim Few’s spring branch thence a North course to a chesnut near the meeting house Thence North West course to a spanish oak thence to West course along my old original line to the River, thence down the River to the beginning the same containing two hundred acres and no more the above land I have.”
The will could weave together all my theories and research like the center of a spider web…or lead to a frustrating dead end. In the way wills and inventories of slaves often do, I had to pause while reading the document to take a walk across the room to settle my thoughts before I could continue. With my heart beating in my ears, I realized I had experience with what was to come next.
As I read on, name after name of the enslaved men, women, boys, girls on the Few plantation unrolled like brittle parchment. Few detailed by name over twenty-two enslaved people in his estate to be divvied up among his 13 children and extended family. Among the names was a revelation!
Few gave as inheritance “one negro woman Mariah and the negro boy Sam” to his daughter Lavina; he further willed “one negro woman Sylvia and a negro girl Charlotte” to his daughter Betsy Jenkins. Few’s will held both my 3x great grandmother’s name Mariah and her likely son Sam (Mays), my 4x great grandmother Sylvia and Charlotte (possibly her daughter)! Here was a new powerful source document connecting Sylvia Choice (maiden name Few) to her daughter Mariah, and to her first and second enslavers. It also showed which specific daughters inherited my ancestors making it possible to continue to track their lives before emancipation. Sylvia and Mariah Few’s enslaved community would have had many relations; siblings, cousins, parents, children – they were all split up by the planter’s death in 1853.
Will of William Few Senior, 1853, Item 6 leaves slaves Mariah and Sam to daughter Lavina, item 11, leaves slaves Sylvia and Charlotte to daughter Betsy Jenkins.
The enslaved community held in bondage by William and Susannah Few, my ancestral community, was vast. William Few Senior would have been a planter, not just a farmer, with so many enslaved lives working his land and mills. In 1850, William Few’s estate was worth $6000. At his death, he was able to pass on significant generational wealth stolen from my ancestors, as well as an enslaved labor force to help secure the next generation’s legacies. Though its unclear what debts his estate had to clear, it does appear many of the enslaved passed to his children.
The enslaved of William Few Snr. and Susannah Tubbs-Few listed in William’s will in 1853 include:
Alfred (20 years old) b. 1843 given to son James Few
Jesse (negro man) to daughter Melinda Few
Emily (6) (negro girl) to daughter Melinda Few
Jane (a negro woman) to daughter Rachel Few
Abigail (a negro girl) to daughter Rachel Few
Hannah (a negro woman) to daughter Mary Few (willed to Mary) to go to granddaughter Malinda Catherine
Mariah (a negro woman) to daughter Lavinia Few
Sam (a negro boy)to daughter Lavinia Few
Bob (negro man) to son Benjamin Few
Toney (negro man) to son Benjamin Few
Wynne (negro man) to son Benjamin Few
Manda (negro girl) to son Benjamin
Lewis (negro man) to son Ephraim Few
Caroline (5) (negro girl) to son Ephraim Few
Rafael (negro man) to son Ignatius Few
Cummings (negro boy) to son Ignatius Few
Alisey (negro woman) to Matilda Weaver
Betty (negro child) to daughter Matilda Weaver
Sylvia (negro woman) to daughter Betsy Jenkins
Charlotte (negro girl) to daughter Betsy Jenkins
Eliza (negro girl about 16 years old) to daughter Celia Reese
Unnamed small negro girl (to be selected) to daughter Martha
Peter (negro boy) to daughter Susannah Kendrick
DNA connects the enslaved to the enslaver.
Checking Ancestry’s online DNA database for the surname “Few” with ancestry in North Carolina and South Carolina, among my own thousands of DNA matches who’ve tested on the platform, I found several maternal matches including, white descendants of Wiliam Few Sr. of Greenville, his Few’s ancestors in North Carolina, and remarkably, matches to ancestors of his wife Susannah Tubbs. Some of the Few DNA match descendants even hailed from the Few family’s point of arrival in the British colonies in Chester, in the Pennsylvania colony. The astounding detail in the will and emerging genetic relationship of my Few DNA matches seemed to support that I was a maternal descendant from a child of William Few and Susannah Tubbs.
Using the will and carefully researching William’s male sons, and based on the pedigree triangulation of shared match names and the strength of the genetic matches, I surmise that Mariah’s mother Sylvia, who was born about 1800 – 1805, identified on the Few plantation and willed to Betsy Jenkins ‘nee Few, was assaulted by one of the male Few heirs sometime between 1815 and 1825 resulting in the birth of Mariah (sharing Few and Tubbs alongside her African DNA). Mariah’s birth is put at about 1825 but her last census record says its as late as 1835. The dates swing wildly and she could have easily been born earlier. I believe the the likely father is William’s first son James Few (1790 -1860). In fact, a DNA match cousin of mine is a direct descendent of James.
James Few and his wife Lucinda West moved to Dickson, Tennessee by 1820. He was granted 6 acres in 1827. In 1830 he held 3 slaves (1 male between 10 and 23 years old, and 2 females between 10 and 23 years old). In 1839 he was granted 400 acres of land by the state. Alfred, an enslaved man, was given to James as part of his inheritance, but there’s no record Alfred left the Few estate to be transported to Dickson County, Tennessee in 1853. By the time of James Few’s death in about 1860 he had about $2000 of land, and $7000 of personal property, most of it tied up in 6 enslaved people.
Did William and Susannah Few know Syvia’s child Mariah was their son James’s daughter? Almost assuredly. There would have been few secrets on the farm. Whether by rape or forced breeding between slaves, increase on a plantation was a source of wealth and opportunity. Adding to the trauma, infants were often taken from their enslaved mothers to decrease attachments and could be raised by cousins, siblings on the plantation or other properties, mulatto children were often sold away.
William’s other sons all lived and farmed next door to each other; William Jr., Benjamin, Ignatius, and Ephraim Few were all enslavers and inherited their lot of slaves from their father’s estate after his death around 1853. During Reconstruction, Benjamin and his siblings entered into several Freedmen’s Bureau contracts with the formerly enslaved of the Few family to provide board, food, clothing, shoes, tools, and horses, and pay in exchange for farming their lands. In 1866, Benjamin contracted with a freedman named Lewis Few for $4 a month. If Ben didn’t pay, the agreement held a lien on his crop as a failsafe. Lewis was very likely the same man given to to Ephraim Few as part of William Few’s 1853 will. Ben also contracted with the freedmen Winn and his wife Caroline to farm corn. Caroline was probably the same “negro girl” William Few left to Ephraim. Ben also contracted with Fany to have her daughter Mary as a servant agreeing to provide food, clothing, and shoes, and he agreed he would return her to her mother after one year of service. He also contracted with a freedman named Calvin and a woman named Polly as well. Ben’s brothers James, Ephraim, and Ignatius made similar agreements. Ben witnessed a contract between his sister Betsy Jenkins and a freedman named Saul too. Cummings, a freedman, entered into a contract with his former enslaver Ignatius Few as well.
Ephraim Few entered into a contract with a “freedman of color” named “Jim” in March 1866. For 6 bushels of corn, room and board, two suits of clothing, and a pair of shoes, Jim bound himself to a year of work. Benjamin Few witnessed the agreement. The month before, Ephraim entered into a similar agreement with a freedman named Samuel. Were these freedmen, Jim and Samuel, Mariah Few’s sons, Jim and Sam Mays? Possibly. Both Jim and Sam adopted the Mays surname by the 1870 census and were reunited in the O’Neal district after the Civil War.
Freedmen’s Bureau Contract between “Jim” and Ephraim Few in 1867. Earlier, Ephraim made a contract with “Sam.” I believe these are brothers Jim and Sam Mays.
In another detail of the interconnectedness of the Mays and Fews families, the English American miller James Mays lived next door to the Jenkin’s homestead in Milford. Mary Elizabeth “Betsy” Jenkins (1801 – 1897), who inherited Mariah’s mother Sylvia, and possibly her sister Charlotte, was already an enslaver of two according to the 1850 slave schedule. The two were a 65 year-old man and 3 year-old female slave; they made an odd pair suggesting the 3 year-old’s mother had recently died. Betsy’s younger sister Celia who was married to Allen Reese also lived nearby. At the time of her father’s death, Betsy Jenkins was widowed and the stepmother of 5 living children in 1850. A DNA match cousin of mine appears to directly descend from an ancestor of her late spouse Vinson Jenkins. This could suggest Sylvia’s family were already enslaved on Jenkins’ farm before the will and subject to the enslavers’ depredation. After she was widowed, Betsy Jenkins was living in Milford on the 1860 census and working as a housekeeper to the Rev. William Crane of Milford Baptist Church. Milford Baptist Church was an important center of town life, as we’ll see.
The paper trail grew even longer after William Few’s death. Tapping the new FamilySearch full-text experimental search tool that uses AI to decipher and translate non-indexed documents, I found one that revealed Few’s heirs relinquished their rights to three enslaved women inherited by his daughters Rachel and Malinda. The enslaved were named Jane, Abigail, and Emily. In the statement, for the sum of $10, the Few heirs gave up all their rights to these girls in 1856. It was in the document that I also noticed William’s daughter Lavina must have married not long after her father’s death.
Between 1853 and 1860, Betsy Few’s younger sister Lavina (1813 – 1885) married John Peter Shockley (1838 – 1912). The Shockleys were planters who lived in central Greenville on Brushy Creek but also had family holdings in the O’Neal District. Mariah and her son Sam would also have moved out of the familiar Few estate away from family and south to Brushy Creek. I’m sure Mariah was devastated to be separated from her family but held hope she would see them again when her enslavers visited their own family to the North. The death of William Few and marriage of his daughter Lavina explains how the Walker and Mays were forcibly migrated 16 miles south to the Gantt District around 1856 from Moonville.
Unfortunately, the statement of revoking the Few heirs’ rights appears to be the only record containing Lavina and John Peter Shockley together as a couple. She may have divorced Shockley because some unsourced records list her as having married Robert Thomason, and having died in 1885 and then being interred at the Few cemetery in Greer.
John Peter Shockley’s youngest son William Thomas (1833 -1881) also connects Mariah Few to the Shockleys after emancipation. John Peter Shockley was an enslaver – in 1850 he had 16 enslaved people on his plantation, and 14 people on his Brushy Creek farm near White Horse Pike in the Gantt District in 1860. He was wealthy, holding $4000 in real estate and $5300 in personal wealth. He appears to have married several times, having at least four children before marrying Lavina Few. During Reconstruction, Mariah’s husband Pleasant Walker struck a deal with a Shockley. A Freedmen’s Bureau contract shows Pleasant agreeing with Shockley’s son William Thomas to share crop rented land on White Horse Pike near Brushy Creek. Mariah’s relationship as Shockley’s former slave was the likely source of the deal. In 1870, my 3x great grandfather Jim Mays and his family live next door to Peter Shockley’s son in Gantt.
The move from O’Neal to Gantt meant Mariah had to leave behind two of her children and join another enslaved community miles to the South. Though Mariah’s boys were born after Sam, between 1845 and 1847, they weren’t listed in William Few’s inventory. That doesn’t mean they weren’t on the plantation. Note that a yet “unnamed” enslaved girl was to be chosen by his daughter Martha in the will. That could mean there were more enslaved children on the plantation who were not directly willed to William’s children. It could simply be that James and Oliver were to remain estate property on the plantation. It’s also possible Jim and Oliver were sold away, apprenticed, or hired out by the time of William Few’s death in 1853.
William Few Bridge Historical Marker on the South Tyger River. Image by Stanley Howard.
The discovery or rather “recovery” of the Few genetic network has revealed so much. Sylvia and her husband, the children’s families – the Mays and Walkers; were eventually reunited in the Gantt district in Pleasant and Mariah Walker’s home according to the 1870 census, but not all of them. I have not found Mariah’s sister Charlotte named in any further documents. The DNA discoveries corroborate newly found document-based evidence that Sylvia Few, her daughters Mariah and Charlotte, and her grandson Sam were enslaved by William Few. Evidence shows a network of enslaved kin across O’Neal plantations owned by the Few family, Jenkins and Shockleys. It revealed that the Jenkins were Sylvia’s last enslaver the Shockleys were Mariah’s last enslavers, and how my black Few ancestors came to be forcibly migrated from O’Neal to the Gantt District. Freedmen’s Bureau contracts show that the Few family, once enslavers, had to make new contracts with their formerly enslaved. Genetic genealogy also revealed that increasingly common yet still bone-chilling fact that once again, my ancestor’s enslaver, was also my ancestor. Yet despite the revelations, these discoveries do not explain the origin of the Mays surname. While the white planter James Mays and Few family weren’t related, they were very close neighbors. How had Mariah’s sons Jim and his brother Oliver come to also adopt the Mays surname and not Few? Their brother Sam left the Few estate with his mother but later took the surname Mays as well. He may have been reunited with his brother Jim sharecropping for Ephraim Few in 1866. Was the Mays surname tied directly to the identity of their father? Was their biological father enslaved on the James Mays plantation nearby in Milford?
PART 2. Mays the Enslaver, Gilreath the Ancestor.
Recovering Jim May’s paternal ORIGINS.
I set out to explore the surname Mays in Greenville during the same time Mariah was enslaved on the plantation of William Few in O’Neal. Of the several Mays living in Greenville during this period, according to the 1850 Slave Schedule and census, only one Mays family lived in O’Neal – and it turned out he was a close neighbor to William and Susannah Few in Milford. This particular Mays family was headed by an English American planter named James Mays (1781 – d. 1865 in Greenville). As we’ll see, using genetic genealogy, I’ve come to believe that Sam, Oliver, and Jim, were the children of an enslaved man on the Mays plantation and took his enslaver’s surname. Census records reveal Few’s neighbor James Mays was an Englishman born about 1781 in the borough of Epsom in Surrey, just South of London. Court records show he was 25 years old when naturalized in November 1807, his occupation listed him as. “mariner” though I believe he was living and working in Charleston at least a year earlier. Around the time Mays appears in the records of early 18th century Charleston, the Abolition of the Slave Trade Act in England became law, making it illegal to engage in the slave trade throughout the British Empire, partly as a result of a twenty-year parliamentary campaign by the Church of England’s William Wilberforce. Charleston was the center of importation of slaves for over a hundred years at that point, drawing English, Scottish, Irish, French and West Indian immigrants. During its earliest days as a colony, South Carolina, “incentivized enslavers to immigrate, offering 10-20 acres of free land for every enslaved Black person that a white migrant forcibly brought to the colony,” according to A History of Racial Injustice.
“The kidnapping, trafficking, and sale of Africans escalated dramatically in Charleston between 1803 and 1807. Anticipating a constitutional ban on the Transatlantic trade beginning in 1808, traffickers in Charleston imported more than 40,000 kidnapped Africans during these five years alone. The 88 kidnapped Africans trafficked into Charleston on this day in 1807 would be some of the first of more than 21,000 kidnapped Africans who would be brought through Charleston in 1807, accounting for 95% of the total Africans trafficked into the U.S. in 1807.” – January 07, 1807: A Ship Named “Fair American” Delivers 88 Trafficked Africans into Charleston, South Carolina, A History of Racial Injustice
Almost half, some 40% of African Americans earliest ancestors were forcibly brought to America through the port of Charleston, first through the Middle Passage from Africa to the West Indies, and then on to the southeastern coast of the English Colonies, and later, directly from Africa to Charleston’s Sullivan’s Island. On the island, Africans who survived the terrible journey were quarantined for 10 days. The inhumane cargo was examined, sorted, and then shipped to markets for sale by scrupulous traders, sold from the decks of ships across several wharves. Over 1000 cargos of Africans passed through Charleston, making it by far, the largest place of slave trading over hundreds of years, right up to the abolishment of the American translatlantic trade in 1808. The expansion of America with the addition of Mississippi, Alabama, Louisiana territories drove an urgent expansion of “new negros” into the port of Charleston at Gadsden’s Wharf. It was within a few short years of the transatlantic slave trade’s end that James Mays first arrived on America’s shores.
Records show a James Mays established himself as a licensed “retailer” living at No. 3 Tradd Street (formerly South Street) about 1806 near Charleston’s French Quarter in St. Michael’s Parish and later, at 20 Meeting Street. Mays was secretary of the Grocer’s Friendly Society in 1821, a mutual aid group that likely provided insurance and debt protection for its members.
No. 3 Tradd St. Charleston, South Carolina today. Source, Google Maps.
At about the start of his career as a grocer in South Carolina, in 1807, James Mays purchased a slave according to a bill of sale for $600, a negro man named Abraham in August. The bill of sale named Mays a “grocer.”
1807 Bill of Sale, slave, Abraham to James Mays, widow of Nathan Legare and Capt. John S. Ashe. Source, FamilySearch.
In the 1820 census, James has an enslaved girl between under 14 and a woman between 14 and 25. Abraham was not listed. Both were purchased of the widow Elizabeth Ashe (1753 – 1820) (nee’ Daniel), a wealthy heiress, daughter of John Daniel and Nancy Ashe. She first married Nathan Legare (1739 – 1782), then Capt. John S. Ashe, elder son of the Major General Ashe of North Carolin in 1783. Capt. Ashe died before 1800 making Elizabeth a widow once more. The Ashes lived at 12 Lamboll Street close to the Battery. When the widow Elizabeth Daniel-Ashe died, she willed her 24 “Prime Country Born Negros,” home and outhouses be sold to benefit two of her daughters.
The enslaved man Abraham who was sold to James Mays is very likely the same man known as “Abraham Ashe” who became a free man of color between 1807 and 1810. Abraham likely worked his way to freedom and achieved a “private manumission.” Though I have not found an agreement of manumission, James Mays was a witness when the free person of color Abraham Ashe purchased an enslaved man July from Joseph Alexander in 1810 for the sum of $50. A typical sum of $400 – $500 would support the value of the enslaved as a “prime hand” or a teenage boy or young man capable of carrying out the highest level of work on a plantation or mill. The low amount suggests Abraham was purchasing a family member, Alexander was a very willing seller, and Mays was supportive. Abraham purchases Mick in 1816 and is also found indenturing an enslaved boy named Sam in 1830. Abraham’s wife Clary is mentioned.
In 1830 Ashe had 9 free people of color in his household and 4 enslaved people. He had already become a property owner in 1822, mortgaging land from his former enslaver Elizabeth Ashe’s daughter Ann Legare. In 1835, Abraham Ashe was to provide a $400 bond to Thomas Middleton to support the purchase of 4 enslaved people (possibly the enslaved listed in the 1830 census); Susannah and her three children, Clarissa, Tyra, and William. I suspect they were the family of one of Ashe’s enslaved. Middleton purchased all four for just $500, and Ashe’s bond was low – suggesting a sweetheart deal with another purpose other than profit.
Ashe was later involved in a lawsuit with the widow Ann Legare for a debt of $1200 on rent on two homes. He had become a property owner. The Court of Equity ruled against Ashe and in 1841, Abraham lost his land in a sheriff’s sale, two lots with “small wooden houses” on Boundary Street were put up for auction.
Ann Legare seeks the court’s assistance in collecting a debt from Abraham Ashe, “a free colored man.” Ashe became indebted to the petitioner in the amount of $1,200 in 1822. He mortgaged a lot of land in Charleston to secure the bond, which has recently become due. Legare now complains that Ashe “refuses” to pay her and has set up “various pretexts to delay and defeat your Oratrixes just claim.” Legare asks that the mortgage on the land be foreclosed and that Ashe “be Decreed to pay to your Oratrix all such sums of money as may appear to your Honors to be due to your Oratrix.” – Petition of Ann Legare, June 1841, Court of Equity.
Abraham Ashe died in 1842 of dropsy (edema) and is buried at the “African Burial Grounds” – there were several in the city of Charleston. Abraham’s descendent may be Capt. Jacob “James” Ashe who captained a sloop in 1880. His wife Nellie Grant-Ashe is buried at Mother Emanuel cemetery. In his will, Abraham left his entire estate to James H. Ladson (1795–1868), a magistrate and major planter who by 1850 owned over 200 slaves producing 600,000 pounds of rice each year on his La Grange and Fawn Hill plantations. Ladson was the scion of a prominent planter-class family with holdings in Charleston. It’s unclear why Ladson, a man of such prominence, was named executor of Ashe’s small estate. Ashe did not manumit his enslaved in his will. Ladson inventoried and posted Ashe’s estate to clear the man’s debts.
Ladson inventoried three slaves, William, Maria, and Abram. Sadly, each were purchased by different slave traders. If they were family, they were split up. *Update – see The Mays Family: Abraham Ashe to learn what happened to the children.
James Mays lived several years in Charleston and there on October 20, 1819 married Elizabeth Bouchanneau. A year later his family appeared in the 1820 census. In their eventual departure for Greenville, the Mays, like many lowcountry middle to upper-class Charlestonians, probably sought to escape the heat and humidity of the summers for the cool mountain weather of the highlands above Greenville with second homes, usually small plantations, mills, and farms. From mariner to grocer to landowner, Mays appeared to settle in Greenville as a miller and farmer full-time after 1825, though maintained ties to Charleston. James Mays maintained his grocery at 20 Meeting Street in Charleston as late as 1830.
The Mays family included enslaved who were part of Elizabeth’s dower. His wife Elizabeth was the daughter of a Frenchman, possibly a Huguenot named Charles Bouchanneau, and Sarah (of Hampstead) from Charleston. The Bouchanneau’s were acquainted with the Ashe family according to early documents. In 1805, Charles witnessed a sale of an enslaved male James to Samuel Barksdale Jones by Hannah Ashe, widow of Samuel Ashe. In 1812, Charles Bouchanneau’s will instructs that his three daughters, Mary Brown (husband Isaac), Elizabeth, and Ann Felicity, were to receive 1/3rd of his estate upon the death of his wife Sarah. Sarah was to inherit Charles’ two slaves, Sampson and Jack. Jack, a boy, was to be bound to his son Isaac to learn the carpenter trade, and Sampson was to remain a gardener.
Before her marriage to James Mays, Elizabeth Mays inherited from her mother in equal parts, “the negro girl Cretia” with her sister Ann Felicity in their mother Sarah’s 1813 will. Elizabeth’s younger sister Ann Felicity went to live with her and James and later appears in the 1850 census of the Mays family as single. Elizabeth Mays appeared to have passed away between 1850 and 1857. In a sale of land in ’57, “Ann F. Mays” testified as James May’s “wife.”
Mays prospered. He acquired and sold large tracts of land along the Tyger River over twenty years and established the “May’s Mills” according to records, probably milling corn and other grains. Perhaps because he also had a license to sell liquor in Charleston he may have been a distiller too. A mill would require land on a body of running water. In an 1838 case before the Greenville Court of Equity, James Mays was a defendant in a case brought by his neighbor Samuel Jones. Jones wanted damages to his land because Mays had built a dam. The dam was likely built by his enslaved. James ultimately provided 7 and a half acres of land in restitution. William Few, his neighbor, was one of 4 men who arbitrated the case. The document is the only source of James Mays’ signature.
James Mays’ signature on settlement papers. Equity Court of Greenville, 1838. Source, FamilySearch.
Mays also built a bridge to ford the Tyger River that bore his name. In 1838, for $1200 James Mays bought 250 acres south of the Tyger River on the South Fork north of Greenville from James Harper of Charleston, known as “Harper Place.” In 1839, Mays bought an additional 70 acres south of the Tyger River from a man named John Wesley Gilreath (1806 – 1881), son of Jesse Gilreath (1759 – 1830). Wesley purchased the estate from his siblings who inherited stakes in the land after his father’s death for $500. A man who I would learn is pivotal to our O’Neal origins, Hardy Jones Gilreath (1788 – 1868), was a witness to the sale of the Gilreath estate to James. In 1843, James sold the Harper Place track to a local preacher Rev. Samuel Crane for $900. In 1859, Mays sold 100 acres of land on the South Fork of the Tyger River to Wiliam Few’s son-in-law, Allen Reece, along the road leading to Mays Mills. Reece was the husband of Celia Few, daughter of William Few Sr. Celia had inherited at least one negro girl, Eliza when her father passed in 1853. In 1845, Mays sold 100 acres more of his land to America Fowler.
Hardy Jones Gilreath and his mulatto sons.
Hardy Jones Gilreath…the Gilreath name felt familiar! I was certain I had seen it before, not just among James Mays’ papers. I recalled seeing that William Few’s daughter Martha had married one William Henry Gilreath. The Gilreaths were all over the 1882 Greenville map of the O’Neal district. Out of curiosity, I checked Ancestry DNA matches and immediately found several DNA match cousins ranging from the 5th to 8th generation (4th cousins), both black and white, who appeared to descend from William Wesley Gilreath Sr. (1730-1795) and Mary (Arrington) Gilreath (1731-1788), originally from Wilkes County, North Carolina. After the American Revolution, Capt. William Wesley Gilreath Jr. (1753-1835) migrated to Greenville with his family, collecting on his land bounty. His brother Jesse Gilreath (1774 – 1828) was a patriot too and migrated to Greenville as well. The families settled from Travelers Rest to Milford around 1800. Their brothers Alexander (1755 – 1853) and William Alexander (1750) stayed behind in Wilkes. William Gilreath Sr. died in Newberry, South Carolina about 1794 (his will stated he sold some of his land on Crab Fork in Wilkes, but he left the rest of his lands to his various sons in North and South Carolina).
William Gilreath Jr.’ married Sarah Jones (1765 – 1833). All of his children appear to have all been born in Wilkes, but only his son Hardy Jones Gilreath had migrated to Greenville.
Henry Jeremiah Gilreath, b. 1781 – 1842
Martha “Patsy”, b. 1785 (m. Hicks)
Hugh Gilreath, b. 1782 – 1816
Mary Susanna Gilreath, b. 1784 – 1840
Hardy Jones Gilreath, b. 1788 – 1868
William Hilliary Gilreath, b. 1790 – 1872
Delilah Gilreath, b. 1795 (m. McCoy)
Rebecca Gilreath, b. 1798 -1876
Susanna Gilreath, b. 1800 – 1899
Jesse Gilreath was married twice. Several of his children were born in Greenville after his migration.
Isabella Gilreath, b. 1799 – 1855 (m. Pollard)
Alfred Gilreath, b. 1801 – 1863 (m. Epidotia Brock b. 1803 – 1843, m. Mariah Shockley)
John Westley Gilreath, b.1806 – 1881
Hannah Gilreath, b. 1808 – 1890 (m. Justus)
George Holton Gilreath, b. 1810 – 1896
Jabez Franklin Gilreath, b. 1812 – 1855
Nelson Gilreath, b. 1814 – 1889
Caleb Gilreath, b. 1817 – 1884
These new Gilreath matches also shared many of my Mays matches, including one or two mystery matches in Traveler’s Rest, with unfamiliar surnames, like Brock. Turns out Jesse’s son Alfred Gilreath married Epidotia Brock of Travelers Rest. Her father David Brock was an enslaver, and the 1850 Slave Schedule shows Alfred as enslaving four. Alfred later married a Shockley. The Gilreath, Few, and Shockley families were also interconnected! Lastly, I wasn’t very surprised to find that local historian Lou Turner had written that the Gilreaths first lived at Moon’s Place on the State Road. Recall family oral history had stated our earliest ancestors were known to first come off “Moonville.” It was this very same land, that James Mays purchased to farm from Jesse Gilreath’s son John Westley Gilreath in 1839, witnessed by Hardy Jones Gilreath.
Gilreath’s Mill (1890) is an example of small streamside mill found across the Greenville highlands. Source, Greer Heritage Museum.
The Gilreaths were also founders of Jackson Grove Methodist Church just 8 miles West of Milford in 1832 in Traveler’s Rest. This was an important find that turned out to be instrumental in connecting the Gilreaths biologically to an enslaved man on or near the Mays plantation. Though there is just oral history, it was well known and passed down through the generations that Hardy Jones Gilreath, the son of William and Sarah Gilreath, had a black enslaved mistress and concubine named Matilda.
The History of Jackson Grove United Methodist Church 1831 – 1981 by Lou Alice Flynn Turner and Doris Coleman Gilreath is a critical document capturing the story of the white and black community around Moon’s. Turner and Gilreath’s research charts the story of many founding families who were trustees.
Jesse Gilreath of North Carolina settled about half a mle below South Tyger River near O’Neal in 1796. Two sons – Alfred and Wesley – served among the first trutees of Jackson Grove. Hardy Jones Gilreat, who came from Wilkes County, N.C., bought some 800 acres between the Enoree River and Childer’s Beaver Dam, a branch of South Tyber in 1824. Gilreath lived at Moon’s on the State Road in 1826, was appointed to the office of Road Commissioners. Later, he built with slave labor a home on McElhaney Road, where his great-granddaughter, Ruth Gilreath, lives now.”
– History of Jackson Grove United Methodist Church 1831 – 1981.
Hardy Jones Gilreath was among the original leaseholders and trustees. William Few Snr. was a co-author of the church by-laws with his son-in-laws John Weaver and Vincent Jenkins.
Reviewing Ancestry.com, and my own DNA matches out of curiosity, I immediately discovered I had several African American DNA match cousins who descend directly from William Gilreath Jr. through his son Hardy Jones Gilreath and Matilda! Records show a male named Asa “Ace” Gilreath was born about 1844 when Hardy was 55. Matilda’s mulatto son Asa Gilbreath was known in the Travelers Rest community for his farming acumen. He married Laura Davis. Though the black congregants of Jackson Grove started their own church, St. Luke’s, Ace’s black descendants actually reunited with their white Gilreath cousins at Jackson Grove again over 140 years after slavery in reconciliation in 2009. In a poignant meeting, black and white descendants acknowledged Hardy Jones Gilreath as their common ancestor. According to the historians Turner and Gilreath, among the formerly enslaved buried in Jackson Grove are Matilda Gilreath (Hardy’s concubine), Kathleen Gilreath White; Jim, infant son of Ace and Laura Davis Gilreath, among over 47 other white Gilreath family members.
Image. Hardy Jones Gilreath (enhanced) about 1880. Source, unknown.
Unsurprisingly, Ace was not the only black son Hardy Jones had with an enslaved woman. Records revealed Hardy also had a mulatto son Andy with another enslaved woman named Carlee Snow. Andy and his wife Lucinda Snow migrated to Arkansas after 1880. Andy’s death certificate indicated he was a veteran of the Civil War though I have not found his service record yet. He likely joined under a pseudonym. His descendants have shared his picture on Ancestry.com.
Andy Gilreath (1836 – 1943), early 1900s, son of Hardy Jones Gilreath and enslaved woman Carlee Snow. Andy was the half-brother of Ace Gilreath, and Jim May’s Father (name unidentified), both also sons of H.J. Gilreath with enslaved women. Source, Ancestry.com.
Hardy Jones’s white son William Henry Gilreath later married William Few’s daughter Martha sometime between 1850 and 1860. The discovery of this new genetic Gilreath network was weaving a web of connections in the O’Neal community between the Mays, Gilreath, and Few families that made me completely rethink the impact of James Mays’ innocuous land purchases from his neighbors. In 1850, examining the census shows Mays immediate neighbors were Allen Reece, son-in-law to William Few, Elizabeth Jenkins, daughter of William Few and enslaver of my 4x great grandmother Sylvia Few and her daughter Charlotte, and Wesley Gilreath, 1st couson of Hardy Jones Gilreath. One has to envision an interconnected community of enslaved working these lands, with relationships across the farms.
James Mays and his neighbors. 1850 US Census, Greenville, O’Neal District.
Enslaved people often had family, husbands and wives on neighboring plantations, though a relationship was always in danger of dissolution. During estate sales after the death of an enslaver, the enslaved were often sold in lots to clear debts, often at the same time as the land. They were often displaced and separated by being willed down to children with land. Sometimes they were sold to neighbors. Enslaved families were often broken up after Christmas when the year’s debts came due to a plantation owner, debts cleared with black bodies of children, mothers and fathers.
An administrator’s sale of the estate of S. Mauldin featuring several enslaved by name and occupation. Source, Advertisement, Greenville Enterprise, 1856.
After the war, Reconstruction offered new ways for families to find dignity in contracts with their former enslavers in ways that could often reunite families. Freedmen often contracted with their former enslaver first, or someone they knew and trusted in the local community right after the Civil War ended. As I shared, Benjamin Few and his brothers contracted with freedmen left to them in the 1853 will of William Few. Elizabeth “Betsy” Jenkins like her brothers, entered into contracts with freedmen, including a man named Phillip, who was formerly enslaved by John Wesley Gilreath. Her brother Ephraim Few contracted with two freedmen named Jim and Sam, likely the brothers Jim and Sam Mays.
Was it possible that besides land, James Mays had also purchased from John Wesley Gilreath one or more of Jesse Gilreath’s enslaved people to work the land of their former master? Could this mysterious unidentified enslaved ancestor have been a descendent of a Gilreath, but adopted the Mays surname (his last enslaver) and become the father of Mariah Few’s children, Sam, Oliver, and Jim? Here was a plausible theory!
Survey of the Gilreath land, adjacent Gideon Moon’s land, along the South Tyger River. The building is likely a mill. Source, Greenville Land grants, patents, surveys and plats, 1784-1880.
The Gilreath tract was directly adjacent land owned by the Moons, and near the Mays tract. The Moons, Mays, and Gilreath family were neighbors.. Very likely, the two enslaved communities on the Mays and Gilreath plantations were already connected families, likely through marriage. Mays might have well milled corn and other grain for his neighbors for a fee. But what did I know about the enslaved people of James Mays and Jesse Gilreath? Is there any other knowledge about this community that could shed light on their shared lives and therefore the lives of their enslaved people?
Milford Baptist Church and the Mays in the Minutes.
Beyond census records, deeds, and bills of sale, I uncovered the life of the white Mays family and that of their enslaved people illuminated in documents about their religious life too. In 1938, the Works Progress Administration had several cultural history projects in the South, including transcribing church records in the state of South Carolina. In the O’Neal district, Milford Baptist Church minutes from 1832 to 1869 were identified and transcribed by the WPA. The church was built in 1829 and began services in 1832. Within the minutes, the white planters and millers of the area, including the Mays family’s spiritual life and interactions with their community are revealed. Recordings show interactions between church leaders and James Mays, his wife Elizabeth, and his sister-in-law and later 2nd wife, Felicity from 1836 through the 1860s. Notations in the minutes range from baptisms to dramatic excommunications. Invaluable in African American genealogy research, church minutes can often reveal enslaved congregrants social lives before the Civil War and connect them directly to their enslaver. The Milford Baptist Church minutes did just that as more of the Mays enslaved were named; Richard, Julius, and Ann. In fact, Richard, is one of the first congregants mentioned in the church minutes records. The minutes show that Richard shared a Christian experience and was thus received in 1832.
Milford Baptist Church, Greer, South Carolina, after 2000. Source, Google.
Enslaved people were encouraged to join their enslavers’ churches during the second great revival of Methodism which took place after the failed self-liberation attempt by the free man of color Denmark Vesey and over 100 enslaved people in 1822. Vesey was a well-off free man of color and carpenter who was manumitted in 1799 when he was known as “Telemaque.” Vesey and his conspirators planned the largest slave uprising in history to begin in Charleston, but he was betrayed by another enslaved man. The plan would have enlisted 9,000 enslaved people! After Vesey’s rebellion was brutally put down with over 60 summary executions, slave laws in South Carolina became much stricter. The state increased the powers and duties of patrols, which were tasked with monitoring the movements of enslaved people, enforcing curfews, and breaking up any unauthorized gatherings.
The Negro Seamen Act of 1822required that free Black sailors from northern states be imprisoned while their ships were docked in Charleston. This was done to prevent them from spreading ideas of freedom and rebellion to the enslaved. Meetings of Black congregants were required to have a white person present to supervise, and large gatherings were discouraged or outright banned. Southern theologians developed a pro-slavery theology, arguing that slavery was beneficial for both enslaved people and their masters.
It was likely Elizabeth Mays and her sister Ann Felicity Bouchonneau who first drew the family to Milford Baptist Church formed on the grounds of a large public meeting. In 1832 Elizabeth presented a letter of dismissal from her original church, the Baptist Church of Charleston. This enabled her family to be accepted as members. In 1833, James had Richard his enslaved man baptized, and another enslaved woman Ann belonging to James “did not receive it” (the baptism). It was not uncommon for enslavers to wield religion as a tool to control their enslaved. An enslaved people read into the bible and sermons their own hopes for salvation and freedom, but often only in death. Specialized slave bibles espoused the goodness of slavery and obeisance to masters, omitting any passages speaking to equality, freedom, or salvation through rebellion.
The 1830s were the era of the great church revivals where churches became a center of daily life featuring daily sermons and often acapella singing of hymns. But Churches also moderated the daily behavior of its members. Members who did not attend were openly chastised. Members who did not obey the teachings of the church and follow the commandments to be chaste were publicly identified and punished. In January of 1836, James Mays got into a dispute with a fellow member Ben Harper. The minutes read that Mays and Harper got together and settled their dispute. However, the settlement was not to Mays’ satisfaction and he protested by skipping church all through May. As a result, he was excommunicated in June. His wife and sister-in-law stayed on. Not coincidentally, descendants of John Peter Shockley, my 3x great grandmother’s enslaver Mariah, were also members of Milford Baptist Church.
“Julius, a Black Man belonging to James Mays,” was found guilty of adultery and excommunicated from the church on July 1, 1837, according to the minutes. Julius had a partner out of a slave marriage, was it Ann? Also, it was unusual to see a slave marriage officially recognized by the church since they were often illegal and nonbinding. At about the same time, Elizabeth Mays received a letter of dismissal, electing to leave the church as well. It seemed the Mays family and their enslaved were not among the favored Milford congregants.
In the 1840 Mays household James, his wife, and sister-in-law are indicated by age on the census. Also indicated by age is a white male between the ages of 20 – 29 years, perhaps a son, but more likely an overseer. I have not been able to ascertain the name of this male. Also listed are 9 enslaved people, 6 males, and 3 females. Presuming they were all still living, it’s possible Cretia, Sampson, Julius, Richard, and Ann were among them. These recovered names replace the anonymous hash marks of Slave Schedules and bring these ancestors out from the obscurity and purposeful anonymity of slavery into recorded history.
In the 1850 US census, the number of Mays’ enslaved increased even further to 11.
Female, 50
Female, 50
Male, 50
Male, 50
Male, 35
Male, 25
Male, 15
Male, 40
Female, 20
Male, 4
Male, 2
On the Tyger River at Milford, May’s neighbors also attended Milford Baptist Church according to the minutes. Eliza Ann Gilreath, wife of Jabez Gilreath received a dismissal letter in 1840. Hardy Jones Gilreath, the son of William Gilreath Jr. donated for renovations, though Hardy’s family eventually settled at the Jackson Grove Church. Hardy Jones fathered children with at least two of his slaves producing mulatto children; with a woman named Matilda, an enslaved son, Ace Gilreath; and with an enslaved woman named Carlee a son named Andy. Either infraction would have been grounds for excommunication but it was not in the minutes. Ace was well-known in the community, but after Emancipation Andy moved his family far west to Arkansas.
After reviewing several Gilreath descendent DNA match family trees, and conducting my own pedigree triangulation, there is strong evidence to support that Hardy Jones Gilreath was my biological 4x great grandfather. I can not identify the enslaved woman Hardy assaulted by name, or her mulatto son. It could have been Matilda or Carlee Snow, or an enslaved woman on the Mays farm. As an enslaver and planter over 40 years he grew his slaveholding from 3 people to include 27 people in bondage according to census and slave schedules, most likely through “breeding” his enslaved. He became incredibly wealthy by 1860 with $1200 in real estate, 400 acres of land, and $35,000 in personal wealth as a farmer and local Road Commissioner.
Pedigree triangulation with Hardy Jones Gilreath’s siblings among Ancestry DNA match cousins. Source Ancestry.com
Probably before Ace and Andy, with an enslaved woman on his plantation, Hardy Jones produced a mulatto child who was very likely sold to the James Mays plantation (hence the Mays surname). Unfortunately, I do not have a complete inventory of Mays enslaved, but we can eliminate the dower slave Sampson who was inherited from Mays’ wife’s family, and Abraham whom James purchased in Charleston who became a free man of color. Given his age and position, Hardy was not the white man, an overseer, on the Mays plantation identified in the 1840 census. Had Hardy’s enslaved mother and mulatto son been sold to the Mays plantation? I have not found a record and or archive of Hardy Jones Gilreath’s letters, though the daybook from his store survives. If Hardy’s mulatto son was still on the Mays plantation in 1850, he could have been the child of either the second 50 year old man or the likely the 35 yearold man indicated on the 1850 slave schedule, born about 1815. Mariah’s husband on the Mays plantation may have been either Julius or Richard. Down the road in the village of Traveler’s Rest, Hardy’s mulatto sons Ace and Andy Gilreath, may well have never known they had an older half-brother toiling away, enslaved by James Mays.
The Few, Moon, Mays, and Gilreath farms lay along the Tyger River, West of the Saluda Gap road. Mays Bridge and Few’s Bridge ford the Tiger. Milford Church is south of May’s Bridge, Jackson Grove Church is west in Traveler’s Rest. Source, Descriptive map and sketch of Greenville County, O’Neal District, by Paul B.Kyzer, 1882.
After his excommunication, one would have thought James Mays would never step foot in Milford Baptist Church again, but 20 years later he returned. After the death of his first wife Elizabeth in 1858 he asked to petition the church and was accepted. He remarried Elizabeth’s sister Ann Felicity Bouchonneau though she died just two years later in 1860, and is buried in the churchyard.
In 1857, the Greenville Enterprise reported that while Hardy Gilreath was Treasurer of the Commission on Roads and Bridges in Greenville, he paid his cousin Wesley Gilreath for repairs on Few’s Bridge, and at May’s Mills. Wesley was supplying blasting powder, iron bolts and conducting bridge repair all around Greenville. Hardy was also a Justice of the Peace and used “Esquire” in his name suggesting he secured a license to practice law. Another of Hardy Jones Gilreath’s enslaved, a man named Abe, was arrested in November 1859 for the murder of a free negro named James Greer, tried and hung in 1860 with “three thousand people” present including blacks and whites according to the Greenville Enterprise.
In December 1862 Hardy Jones sold his negro woman “Jane and her children, Mary, Catherine, and Henry” to his daughter Harriet Nancy Gilreath for a dollar out of his “love and affection.” In February 1863, he repeated the act and sold his negro girl “Jennie” to his daughter Nancy Howell. His son John H. Gilreath managed the trust for both sales, suggesting Hardy was becoming infirm at that time. I have not found a will or probate for Hardy Jones, but in 1868, his son John H. petitioned the court of Greenville to execute his estate meaning Hardy more than likely died intestate. Because he died after emancipation in 1868, his over two dozen enslaved would not have been inventoried as part of the estate regardless. Hardy’s son John purchased the interest of his brothers Hugh and William in the Gilreath homestead according to Greenville Enterprise, and Hardy’s widow remained in the family home.
In 1860, James Mays reported the death of his wife Ann Felicity Bouchonneau, again showing he maintained connections in Charleston.
Death Notice of Mrs. Ann Felicty Mays, wife of Mr. James Mays, May 27, 1860. Source The Charleston Mercury.
In the 1860 Slave Schedule, James Mays’ slave holdings had increased to 12. At that time, Mays was approximately 80 years old and his personal estate was valued at $4000, his real estate at $5000.
1860 US Federal Census, Slave Schedules, James Mays, Greenville, SC. Source, Ancestry.com.
The Mays enslaved listed by sex and age in the 1860 Slave Schedule included:
Female, 70
Male, 65
Male, 35
Male, 33
Male, 12
Male, 10
Female, 8
Male, 6
Male, 4
Male, 2
Female, 1
Female, 1 ½
What is odd about the 1860 slave schedule is that there are several children, 8 under the age of 12, but no adult women of child-bearing age on the list! Perhaps there was a mother on the farm, the youngest child being 1 year old, who passed away within at least the last year. The Mays farm would have been reeling from the loss of such a central figure, including the loss of the mistress, Ann Mays. This could be the reason James Mays took a rather drastic action a year later.
James Mays Eliza Coleman wedding announcement. Source, Charleston Courier, 1861.
In 1861, as reported in the Charleston Courier, James Mays of Milford, Greenville District was wed to Eliza Coleman of Charleston by Rev. Dill. James would have been quite the octogenarian at 80 years old. Perhaps since James Mays had no heirs, he sought to remarry quickly, out of necessity, to secure his legacy. Eliza Coleman was a “widow” herself, according to the Milford church minutes at the time of the marriage. Elizabeth Coleman-Mays was later received by the Milford Baptist Church in June 1868.
PART 3. The Mortgage of Jim
A Strange Document and New THEORY.
In genealogy research, breaking down a brickwall is often a game changer. Hardy Jones Gilreath, a contemporary and close neighbor of James Mays, was also a common ancestor, just like William Few. James Mays farmed land previously owned by Hardy’s uncle Jesse Gilreath. The Gilreath connection to the Few and Shockley family through marriage made sense given the nature of the tight-knit mountain mill community. However, one more remarkable pre-1870 record emerged to make an astonishing connection between the English American enslaver, and a black man named “Jim.” Using the new full-text experimental search tool on the genealogy website FamilySearch to explore unindexed source material from historical databases I found another, intriguing, yet perplexing document.
To set the scene, in 1858, a young senator from Illinois named Abraham Lincoln captured the nation’s attention during debates over slavery and its expansion into western states. The same year the US Supreme Court ruled in Dred Scott v. Sanford. Their ruling? Blacks in the US, even free ones, born free or emancipated, were not American citizens. Southern planters and slaveowners started to use the slogan “King Cotton” to describe their unified power and ability to secede; to prove there was no fear from a war with the North over slavery because their wealth in slaves would sustain them, maybe even force aide from the United Kingdom or other top cotton markets. The “Bleeding Kansas” skirmishes between settlers on the Western frontier over the issue of slavery were well underway. A year later, John Brown would lead former slaves, free men of color, and white anti-slavery freedom fighters in an invasion of Virginia in Harpers Ferry.
In the 1850s, a few miles south of the enslaved community living on James Mays farm, the city of Greenville was a booming but volatile mix of a growing merchant class, and planters with slaves. The Southern Patriot published a description.
“There are in the town of Greenville 25 merchants, many of whom sell from $20 to $50,000 worth of goods in the course of a year, and on as reasonable terms as they can be purchased at retail in Charleston. We have frequently heard this remark made by our visitors from the lower country during the summer season. The cheapness of living and of house rent should enable them to do this. And there is no village in the whole State where the merchants are more thoroughly businessmen in all the branches of commerce. Our mechanics, too, constitute a numerous and most respectable class in our town, and not surpassed anywhere, in point of character, intelligence, industry, and skill. There are in this place 12 carriage makers, 12 blacksmiths, 10 carpenters, 5 brick masons, 5 cabinet makers, 8 shoemakers, 6 saddlers, 5 painters, 18 clerks, 12 tailors, 5 landlords, 10 lawyers, 5 physicians, 2 dentists, 4 or 5 harness makers, 1 baker, 2 millers, 5 schoolmasters, 1 grocer, 1 bookbinder, 1 portrait painter, 2 watchmakers, 1 druggist, etc.”
Greenville was a town on the move, growing into a powerful center of commerce fueled by mills and factories on their plentiful rivers. On January 13, 1858, a woman named Malinda Boram provided a mortgage bond to James Mays “in the penal sum” of $600 conditioned for the payment of $300. A penal sum is to be paid as a penalty under the terms of a bond. The reason for the mortgage is not specified. Was it against a loan for cash, land, or supplies? For the “better securing of the payment” Malinda; “do bargain and sell in plain and open market to deliver unto the said James Mays a negro man named Jim.” Witnesses to the deed are O’Neal district neighbors E.A. Lloyd and W.H. Hudson. No age or other detail is given about “Jim” other than his sex.
Who the heck was Malinda Boram? I have not found a single other record about her. Examining the 1859 mortgage document closer, it occurred to me that Malinda Boram did not have a living husband. A husband would have to testify to having no claim against the slave Jim in the same mortgage. So either Malinda was born a Boram or widowed with the surname Boram because the mortgage doesn’t mention Malinda being married at all.
Mortgage, Malinda Boram and James Mays of negro slave “Jim,” January 1859. Source, FamilySearch.com.
Malinda may have married into or been a direct descendant of the Borroum family. The name is chronically misspelled across dozens of documents (Boram, Borroum, Borrum, Borem). The Borroums lived in Edgefield District and Greenville Districts from 1790 until about 1825 in Greenville, and up to 1760 in Edgefield. The pioneer settler William Borrum (1733 – 1817) of nearby Edgefield had several children; Beverly (1763 – 1847), Peterson (1773 – 1869), Higdon (d. 1807), and a daughter Sarah (Boyd). Beverly was a county judge in Greenville before migrating with most of his family to Lafayette County, Mississippi. Other family members migrated to Georgia and Alabama. Beverly also named one of his sons after his brother Peterson. His grandfather William left 7 enslaved people in his 1817 will to his sons. The will of Justice Beverly Borroum shows that he left his son Willis A.J. Borroum property and slaves, a sawmill, gristmill, stock, and farms in Greenville (though Willis had already settled in Georgia). Beverly also had a son named Peterson who also died in 1845 in Mississippi. In 1841 Willis conveyed the Greenville inheritance in full to Peterson Borroum of Edgefield (his Uncle), who lived with 17 slaves on an Edgefield plantation according to the 1840 census.
Could this “Jim,” mortgaged by Malinda Boram possibly be my great-great grandfather Jim Mays? A sum of $600 would support the value of the enslaved as a “prime hand” or a teenage boy or young man capable of carrying out the highest level of work on a plantation or mill. Jim was born about 1847 according to records (or as early as 1840 if you use the 1910 census) where he is also described as “mulatto”…the son of a white man.
Jim wasn’t listed in William Few’s will but Jim’s brother Sam was alongside his mother Mariah. If he was Mariah’s son, how had Jim come to be in the possession of one, Malinda Boram, and who was she?
I speculate that Malinda Boram may have actually been a member of William Few’s family, quite possibly his daughter, Malinda Few. Born in 1796, Malinda was old enough to have possibly been married to a Boram (Borroum) and then widowed. In 1850, Malinda Few was living, unmarried, in the Few household with her father not too far from James Mays plantation with her sisters working as a seamstress. William Few had 24 enslaved people on his plantation in 1850 according to the slave schedule. When Malinda’s father died in 1853, 22 of the 24 slaves were divvied up amongst the children, but no mention of a boy named James or Jim is in Few’s will. Malinda inherited 2 slaves and then gained 4 more when her siblings gave up their claim. In the 1860 census, Malinda, the eldest, is the head of the household as the matriarch. She managed about 200 acres (55 acres for farming), but her enslaved labor force are entirely women. According to the slave schedules she had 9 people in bondage, only 1 male infant, but no male to father the child. Very likely Malinda relied on hired enslaved hands or her siblings’ enslaved workforce to farm the land. Her sister Rachel, also a seamstress, lived with her, and Rachel’s daughter also named Malinda. Malinda would also have inherited her father’s debt and has a large estate to manage. She may have needed a loan from her neighbor James Mays, securing the debt with her most valuable asset, a male slave. Still, there’s no record yet supporting the theory that Malinda Boram is Malinda Few.
There’s also no record Malinda Boram ever paid the remaining $300 to James Mays, the owner of May’s Mills. Frustratingly, I have not found a single additional record for Malinda Boram among the record sets from court docs to censuses, but I am not without hope. The full-text search tool on FamilySearch is only available on a few databases, perhaps as more become available, the mystery will unravel.
Civil War comes to Greenville.
Almost 2 years after Malinda Boram mortgaged Jim to James Mays, the state of South Carolina voted to secede from the United States. Even though Greenville was against nullification generally and tended toward staying in the Union, fiery speeches by the new local university president Jim Furman and others demanded secession. For so long, Greenville was a sleepy summer vacation town for lowcountry residents escaping the heat, humidity, and mosquitoes of the coast. Then it became a booming center of commerce and trade. It is incredible that Greenville managed to avoid being part of any major battles during the Civil War and was only largely used by the Confederacy as a “soldier’s rest” and minor weapons depot. So the war wasn’t a great event in Greenville like it was on the coast where great blockades and naval battles took place.
During the close of the Civil War, in the Spring of 1865, the Confederate state of South Carolina, was defeated. Greenville actually avoided all the major skirmishes and was left largely intact. Yet some black men did self-liberate to join the US Colored Troops. Searching records, I found 35 black soldiers who were born in Greenville, South Carolina who enlisted from 1863 through 1865 all over the South in Florida, Tennessee, Mississippi. They were infantry, calvary, artillery and were as old as 40 and young as 17. Perhaps they were inspired by the creation of the First South Carolina Volunteer Infantry raised in 1862 by President Lincoln from largely Gullah men of the South Carolina and Georgia sea islands.
First South Carolina Volunteers Hear the Reading of the Emancipation Proclamation near Beaufort, South Carolina, January 1, 1863. Source, Library of Congress.
Greenville was occupied by the Union Army and nearby Anderson actually had US Colored Troops patrolling the streets and farms. In 1866, primary school classes began for black children and adults who wanted it. The provisional governor of South Carolina was calling for “oaths of allegiance” from the white men and traitorous rebs. Greenville had a branch of the Freedmen’s Bureau but the USCT left Greenville by September. The Freedmen’s Bureau captured contracts between the former enslaved and planters, often setting up sharecropping agreements. In 1868, Greenville elected and sent a delegation of free blacks and whites to write a new state constitution that codified the end of slavery in South Carolina, provided free public education, property rights for women, and suffrage – the vote for black men – though racial terror would continue to disenfranchise black people. In 1869, Greenville was finally chartered as a city.
James Mays is buried in Milford Baptist Cemetery in O’Neal District. Source, image by H.G. Stone, Find-a-Grave.com.
The English American planter and miller James Mays died on Christmas Eve in 1865. He was buried in the Milford Baptist Church Cemetery. Mays left a third of “the valuation of a tract of land” to his 3rd wife Elizabeth. He bequeathed the tract of land he lived on to Rev. James K. Dickson and had Dickson pay a legacy to Elizabeth. However, two-thirds of the estate, “the residue”, was left to Dickson, an Irishman, former enslaver, and friend. In fact, after emancipation, Dickson would later himself enter into a contract with a freedman named Henry, to farm his lands in 1866 according to Freedmen Bureau records. The will of James Mays makes no mention of children, a sign that the unidentified man in the 1840 census was probably just an overseer. He left $50 to a nephew named John Chalk. He also appointed “my friends Washington Taylor and James Dickson” executors of his estate. Washington Taylor was a nearby “model farmer” who kept a lifelong journal that is now in the Furman University collection.
The widow Elizabeth Coleman Mays is not found in the 1870 Greenville census though Taylor and Dickson are. Perhaps Elizabeth remarried or went to live with her nephew’s family since James arranged to give the land to Dickson, or she returned to her family home in Charleston.
No mention is made of Mays’ enslaved people in the will probably because just months before his death they became free people of color when South Carolina fell to Union forces. The Mays estate must have been substantially smaller without the wealth of 12 slaves, though many likely stayed on as tenant farmers. I have not located a probate record. The last physical record of May’s plantation is the location of “May’s Bridge” on the Tyger, just west of Milford Church, on the 1882 Map of Greenville. Today, Mays Bridge still Road runs through Milford, across the South Tyger River in Greer.
Julius Mays, formerly enslaved by James Mays, can be found in the Freedmen’s Bureau records having adopted his enslavers’ English surname. His listed age indicates he was born about 1805. In the 1867 record the free man is listed as destitute, living on the J.K. Dickson beat, “living without any provisions.” Also in the same beat are two elders from the Few plantation (Sam, 80; Lucy, 80).
Julius Mays, age 60 living on the Dickson farm in O’Neal. Source, List of Destitute in Dickson’s Beat, Greenville District, Freedmen’s Bureau. Ancestry.com.
John Peter Shockley Sr. died on November 11th, 1869, according to the Brushy Creek Church minutes. To my disappointment, Lavina Few Shockley never appeared in the minutes, nor did her enslaved by name, like my 3x great-grandmother Mariah or her son Sam. After the war, all the enslaved members of Brushy Creek were dismissed in August 1867 in order to leave and form their own church.
No further antebellum records speak of “Jim” who was mortgaged to James Mays in 1859. Evidence in antebellum African American research is often indirect and circumstantial. The enslaved did not write family trees before 1870, and so we rely on genetic genealogy, traditional methods like the F.A.N. Club; researching friends and acquaintances of enslavers, enslaved, and free blacks – every member of the community – to qualify our assumptions. African American naming conventions also left clues as to where an enslaved person may have come from.
My grandfather’s full name is Arthur O’Neal Mays, no doubt named for the district his people were first enslaved in. My working theory that Malinda Boram was very likely Malinda Few, a widow who lived with her Few family after the death of her Boram husband, and led the farm after her father William Few passed away – needs quite a lot of work. If true, Malinda likely knew her father’s enslaved granddaughter Mariah was her biological niece, and Mariah’s sons Jim and Oliver were still on the Few farm when Malinda mortgaged Jim against a debt with her neighbor James Mays. Mortgaging Jim to Mays would have also conveniently removed a family embarrassment from the plantation; a move that could only happen after William Few’s death. Malinda may have also known Jim’s father was already living on James Mays’ farm. Jim might have even requested the transaction himself, a not uncommon practice among enslaved people who implored their masters to be reconnected to family through purchase. His mother Mariah and brother Sam were already willed away and living in the South in Gantt.
Our heritage is the journey, not the destination.
In this journey to examine the origins of the Mays family and answer where the surname Mays came from, I have once again stumbled upon previously hidden European ancestry. I have uncovered white ancestry before. The story of my paternal 4x great grandparents Cornelius Bobo and Emma Brown of Claiborne County, Mississippi, was inextricably tied to their enslaver, my 5x great grandfather Andrew Jackson Bobo. The story of my paternal 5x great-grandmother Harriet Nevils-Riggs of Bulloch County, Georgia, revealed her half-sister Dicey was her enslaver after her white biological father made Harriet a dower gift.
The estimate of European ancestry in modern African Americans varies, but studies using genetic analysis have provided some insights. On average, African Americans have approximately 20-25% European ancestry. Due to the complex history of migration, slavery, and intermarriage in the United States, the percentages vary; numbers can fluctuate based on regional and individual differences. For example, a 2015 study in the American Journal of Human Genetics found that the average African American genome is about 73.2% African, 24% European, and 0.8% Native American.
Sexual assault was a tool of terror, white supremacy, and a driver of economic growth for farmers who used black people for free labor generating generational wealth out of bondage. Increasing wealth through property was the American dream; the promise of liberty from both England and later the Union itself. Exceptions abound, but the systemic violence of slavery was brutal and commonplace. For example, Mary Chesnut, a white South Carolina plantation mistress, kept detailed diaries during the Civil War. Her entries frequently mentioned the sexual exploitation of enslaved women by white men. Chesnut observed the hypocrisy and abuse within the slave-owning class, noting how enslaved women were forced into sexual relationships and childbearing. In 1855, a Missouri court tried an enslaved woman named Celia for the murder of her enslaver, Robert Newsom. Newsom had repeatedly raped Celia since she was 14, and she eventually killed him, claiming self-defense. The case highlights the sexual violence and lack of agency experienced by many enslaved women. Sally Hemmings famously entered into a deal with her enslaver, the founding father and US President Thomas Jefferson. The assaults began for Sally at a young age but she found agency in her relationship with Jefferson producing increasing freedom for her family. Celia was found guilty of killing her enslaver because according to Missouri law, she wasn’t a citizen, or even a woman, just property her ‘Master’ could do with what he liked. She was hung.
In an antebellum genetic network of planters, millers, and enslavers, the enslaved community, with its slave marriages across plantations, and sale of slaves to neighbors, inheritance of slaves through dowers; an entire community of white and black people would often become genetic relatives. This is the untold secret history of American slavery being revealed through genetic genealogy today, how intertwined enslaver and enslaved truly were.
Exploring the O’Neal District and the origins of the Mays family, from Charleston to farms and plantations across the towns of Moonville, Milford, Traveler’s Rest, and Greer, I’ve recovered a tangled history with as many twists and turns as the South Tyger River itself. While I’ve found Sylvia and Mariah Few before 1870 in the record, I also learned Mariah’s father was the son of her enslaver William Few. I’ve discovered the origins of the Mays surname, exhausting the genealogical standard of proof by connecting a newly discovered white 4x great grandfather, Hardy Jones Gilreath, to an English American enslaver named James Mays who bought Gilreath land.
A genetic outline of Jim May’s father, a ghost really, may have been an enslaved son of Hardy Gilreath and later sold to James Mays. He may have been called Julius Mays, and he had two mulatto brothers Ace and Andy Gilreath. I recovered the moment when Mariah Few and her son Sam were split from their family on the Few plantation and forcibly taken from O’Neal because, as chattel property, she was passed down to William Few’s daughter Lavina after she married into the Shockley family and moved to the Gantt District to the South. I learned my 4x great-grandmother Sylvia Few had two enslavers, William Few, and his daughter Betsy Jenkins; and that she may have had another daughter, Charlotte. I also believe I’ve uncovered Jim’s first appearance on the historical record in a mortgage document between James Mays and Malinda Boram (Few), as well as his first legal act of agency in a contract between him and the Few family two years after the Civil War ended in 1867.
Three years later, as a free man, Jim Mays moved South. His mother Mariah is in the next district of Grove. In 1870, he is married and tenant farming on White Horse Road in Gantt Township. Next door are his in-laws Joseph (aged 40) and Marie Sherman (aged 49), also tenant farmers. However, by 1880, Mariah Few-Walker and her family have also moved closer to her son Jim, to Gannt Township. One Henry Mays (1835 – d. ?) perhaps another brother or cousin, lives next door.
Adding this new ancestry to my family tree will undoubtedly create new connections across the various genealogical tools like Ancestry and MyHeritage, among Black and White DNA cousins; perhaps opportunity will arise for new meetings with my newfound relations, maybe even some reconciliation. I’ve learned so much about James Mays the miller, but it feels incomplete. I’m astonished that DNA could identify an ancestor that probably lived enslaved on the Mays plantation. Even if he is nameless still, he is a bridge between Maria Few and her son Jim Mays. I anticipate more discoveries about my new Gilreath family line, especially the black Gilreath descendants. Reflecting on the fact that some of these family members have already reunited, I’m not alone in wanting to recover the story of Moonville and the truth of Jim May’s father. O’Neal District, the source of my grandfather’s name and the shared roots of the Mays, Few, and Gilreath families, has more yet to tell us.
SOURCES.
Thompson, Pat. “I Came By Way of Somebody.” Family history of Mays, Sherman, Ladson. 2004. 6th Edition.
“Citizens Of Greenville District, Petition To Amend The Laws On Usury.” South Carolina Department of Archives, accessed Apr. 2024.
“United States, Freedmen’s Bureau Ration Records, 1865-1872.” Database with images. FamilySearch. FamilySearch.org, accessed May 2024.
Milford Baptist Church. “Minutes, 1832 -1869.” Transcribed by Works Progress Administration, 1938. FamilySearch.org, accessed May 2024.
“Petition 21384102.”South Carolina Department of Archives and History, Columbia, South Carolina, Records of the Equity Court, Bills. Microfilm: Order #273, Reel D1269. Accessed at Digital Library on American Race and Slavery online, Sep. 2024.
“Charleston Daily Courier.” 2 Jul. 1842.
“Will of William Few Snr.” Ancestry.com, accessed May 2024.
“Will of Betsy Green.” Database with images. FamilySearch. FamilySearch.org accessed Jul. 2024.
Charleston. Public Records 1803–1808, Enslavement Records 1803–1808
“Reunion Reunites Black and White.” South Carolina Methodist Advocate, 2 Oct. 2009. Accessed June 2024.
Turner, Lou Alice Flynn, “History of Jackson Grove United Methodist Church, 1831 – 1981.”
“Greenville District, South Carolina Copy 1” Mills, Robert, 1781-1855. Baltimore, F. Lucas, Jr. for Mill’s Atlas, 1825. Library of Congress, http://hdl.loc.gov/loc.gmd/g3913g.la002134 accessed Jul. 2024.
“A History of Racial Injustice.” Essays on People and Events in American History, database online, accessed September 2024.
Motes, Margaret Peckham. Free Blacks and Mulattos in South Carolina 1850 Census. Baltimore, MD, USA: Genealogical Publishing Co., 2002.
“The Genetic Ancestry of African Americans, Latinos, and European Americans across the United States” Bryc, Katarzyna et al. The American Journal of Human Genetics, Volume 96, Issue 1, 37 – 53.
Every good family history mystery begins with chasing shadows. Flitting from one dark corner to the next, peering through the darkness with the light of research and genetic genealogy, most corners turn out to be empty, but sometimes in the inky blackness, you perceive a presence. Someone is staring back at you from beyond the veil.
My great-great-great-great grandparents’ names are Cornelius Bobo and Emma Brown, and those names appear just once in the entire public record to date. On the 1917 Dallas, Texas death certificate of my 3rd great-grandfather John Bobo, Cornelius and Emma are noted as his parents, information given by his daughter-in-law, and my great-great grandmother Bessie Fredonia Demmings-Bobo. Bessie Bobo didn’t know my 4th great-grandparents Cornelius Bobo and Emma Brown’s birthplace, but she knew her father-in-law John was an “expressman” who drove a wagon. Bessie knew her father-in-law was also probably born in Mississippi even though John spent most of his life in East Texas, first in the rough and tumble prairie town of Navasota on the banks of the Rio Brazos, before violent racial terror drove his family to Dallas in 1902. I have written about John Bobo’s life in Navasota before in The Bobo Family: Mama Bessieand in all my years of research, Cornelius and Emma have ghosted me, until now. Almost certainly enslaved, I have finally uncovered the story of their lives in the dark past of an enslaver who I discovered was also my ancestor, and in the fertile river floodplains of the Mississippi River, on the Natchez Trace and rolling cotton fields of Bastrop, Louisiana.
Death certificate of John Bobo, listing Cornelius Bobo and Emma Brown as parents, 1917.
John Bobo, my 3x great-grandfather is actually quite well-documented during Reconstruction after the Civil War, and into the early 19th century. He appears in newspaper articles, tax rolls (John was a property owner between 1869 – 1917 in Navasota and later Dallas), census documents, and voter registrations, but his parents Cornelius and Emma are decidedly not. And my living relatives have no knowledge of them either. Years of research in state archives and historical databases have not produced a single record for either of them. Given John’s age range, I knew that they were both more than likely born enslaved, likely in Mississippi or Louisiana and probably before 1835. Examining John’s records, he wasn’t certain whether he was born in Texas, Louisiana, or Mississippi, listing all those places as potential birthplaces in his life. John’s last two years of life were spent on Flora Avenue in Dallas, not too far from his son Dave “Lee” and daughter-in-law Bessie. Bessie guessed he was 60 years old when he died, but differing records show he could have easily been 10 years older than that or more.
Turn of the century, Navasota, Texas.
If they can trace their roots far enough, African American families often lose their ancestors in records before emancipation in 1865. It can be enormously frustrating to see your ancestors literally disappear in front of your eyes as the census records fade and Black people are reduced to hash marks or names with dollar figures next to them signifying their value in the inventories of dead enslavers. Titanic movements of enslaved and free people during and after the Civil War, people without formal education, also meant information was often lost, dates and places were confused. The record becomes a shadow, or better yet, a hieroglyph speaking a dead language. You have to become an interpreter of Black life before and during America’s earliest days, plantation culture, free Black culture, and the laws and documents that bound enslaved people as property to their master’s wills. That doesn’t mean the formerly enslaved were without agency or foresight about their position in history. They left breadcrumbs in their naming conventions, and post-emancipation records, useful for breaking down what we commonly refer to as “the brick wall” of slavery.
The Bobo lineage is revealed.
With a general place of origin for John Bobo, I sought to break through the brick wall of 1865 and the Civil War with the newly indexed Freedmen’s Bureau Records and my own census of every antebellum Bobo family in Mississippi from 1850 – 1880. The uniqueness of the Bobo surname was a significant advantage in identifying and researching my antebellum ancestors. Almost every White (Anglo) Mississippi Bobo family living then held enslaved people and seemed to be concentrated in either Panola, Coahoma counties in the Delta further south in Claiborne county.
This research began years ago, and I spent several of them chasing down a line of Bobos from Panola and Coahoma, but records of formerly enslaved Black Bobo’s lead to dead ends. I had one DNA match cousin discovered through Ancestry.com that linked back to Bobo’s in South Carolina, but we weren’t able to make much of the lead. Only that there was a connection between Black and White Bobos many generations ago. It led me to the general idea that in the distant past, my ancestors were descended from the first Bobo’s to arrive in America. And there were countless “Emma Browns” in Mississippi, a name just too common to generate useful leads by itself.
Stepping back, I knew that finding Cornelius and Emma would mean answering some challenging questions.
First, where did John Bobo come from and how did he wind up in Texas?
Who else was in John’s family? Was any of his family identifiable among my DNA match trees?
Turns out, thinking about John’s arrival in Texas would be the key to unlocking my Bobo-lineage. Putting my mind on the open road, I dove deep into the tumultuous history of the Civil War, learning about the post-Louisiana Purchase towns built by the enslaved and planter class in Mississippi, and of course, conducted detailed genetic genealogy. Persistence and tools like Ancestry’s genetic pedigree tool, Thrulines, WikiTree, and MyHeritage finally revealed to me John Bobo’s “family” and place of origin. I learned John had a White grandfather who was well-documented. I also uncovered the genetic “friends, acquaintances, and neighbors” group, known as a FAN Club in genealogy jargon, that my 5x great-grandmother, Emma Brown belonged to and even connected with her sibling’s descendants.
Along the way, the surnames of influential Mississippi planters on the Natchez Trace road became waypoints. Bobo, Truly, Booth, Clark, Kilcrease, and Dorsey. They all featured prominently in the history of Claiborne County, Mississippi along Bayou Pierre, a tributary to the Mississippi River, and just about 30 miles North of Natchez. These planters are central to my story, from the 1790s from the Natchez Trace’s earliest days as a French, then Spanish outpost, to an American slave market and more through Emancipation.
Among my DNA matches, I discovered my rather unique family surname connected me to White “Bobo” descendants in Virginia who spread to South Carolina first, then on to Kentucky, Arkansas, Mississippi, and further. The Bobo clan is a vast diaspora of American families, with French Anglo roots in Europe, that later gained African branches in America. Since their earliest arrivals in Colonial Virginia, many Bobo’s were enslavers and naturally, I wondered if Bobo was more than an adopted surname. Pedigree triangulation, DNA research, and detailed published records quickly revealed White Bobo ancestors all appeared to descend from a common ancestor – a refugee and French Huguenot named Gabriel Beaubeau. Beaubeau was a French Protestant immigrant to the Virginia colonies of America around 1700 who fled the persecution of the French Catholic “Sun King” Louis XIV and his government. Beaubeau in French means “very beautiful.”
If John Bobo and his parents were enslaved in Mississippi, then I asked myself, might I find them in the records of Africans who were forcibly brought West by a Beaubeau descendent? Perhaps my ancestors descended from the enslaved Blacks taken in the tens of thousands from Virginia, Maryland and the East to cultivate cotton in new territory stolen from the Choctaw Tribe of First Peoples in Spanish Louisiana or acquired in the Louisiana Purchase around the turn of the 18th century?
Fortunately, using genetic genealogy, I could look into the past beyond the written record. With the clues I had, the Bobo surname, genetic networks and records in Claiborne County, Mississippi, and later Morehouse Parish, Louisiana, I was finally able to lift Cornelius Bobo and Emma Brown out of obscurity, ghosts no longer.
Refugees in Texas.
In earlier research into my 3x great grandfather John Bobo’s life in Navasota, Texas, I learned that he was among tens of thousands of enslaved Blacks who were forcibly relocated from slave states like Louisiana and Florida to Texas by planters terrified by the threat of rebellion, mass revolt, and emancipation foretold by the election of Abraham Lincoln to President in 1860. Soon after, slaves were force-marched West by White masters on the run from the war between the states from as far away as Virginia. Thousands more were refugees, self-liberated, runaways, freemen, who gathered in large “contraband” camps around Union encampments. The Civil War wreaked havoc on the planter class. As Union armies made their way up the Mississippi, they split the Confederacy from the inside out. As young White men enlisted in droves, their family plantations were left unguarded and without overseers. Blacks self-liberated from farms, factories, even mines. Whites were in a panic. It was against this backdrop, and decades of gripping fear of slave revolt, that planters gathered up their wealth and possessions (in the case of slaves, both) in vast caravans and high-tailed it West. They ventured across the Mississippi, Red, and Brazos rivers to the “safe” strongholds of Eastern Texas where the Confederacy had a firm grip on power.
Through the fascinating research of historian Andrew Torget I learned that enslavement was a longstanding critical and driving force that actually shaped the very existence of the Republic of Texas and later adoption of Texas as the 28th state. Slavery and the desire to make and hold the first American slave state was behind the Mexican-American war (1846 -1848) and the Texas Revolution (1835 – 1863). Anglo slaveholders who immigrated to Texas colonies on the cotton boom from 1820 – 1836 rejected Mexican edicts to give up slavery. Between 1830 and 1835, Torget reports cotton exportation grew from 450,000 bales to 3.15 million. Anglos resisted and shaped local politics and laws to support slave-based agriculture, which in turn built tremendous antipathy and resistance from Tejano leadership in Texas that led to secession and violent skirmishes. In 1836, the Republic of Texas was founded as a “slave republic” with about 30,000 Anglos, 5,000 enslaved Blacks, and 3,500 Tejanos (culturally descended people from the Mexican population of Tejas and Coahuila that lived in the region prior). Indigenous numbers are unavailable, but many were driven further West and North by President Mirabeau Lamar (the Republic’s second president).
I already had this Texas story in my blood and knew it well. In 1841, my great-great grandmother Bessie Fredonia Demings’s own White paternal grandfather Aaron Turner Sr. (1783 – 1851) migrated from Georgia to Texas with his family, which included his enslaved “mulatto” daughter, Ann “Rebecca” Turner. Torn from Mexico unwillingly, Texas as an independent slave-nation was a beacon to American planters in the Southern states who wanted to maintain White supremacy through “agro-profiteering.” Planters poured in, but the government was in constant disarray and unstable. At that time, the British also did not want the cotton trade dominated by Texas. England was already considering abolition. American abolitionists saw Texas as an aberration, but the US government was persuaded into annexation in 1845 by Texas lobbyists as a bulwark against rising British interests in support of Mexico. The Mexican-American war resulted in half of Mexico’s original territory being handed over to the US.
Planter culture flourished in post-war Texas right up to the 1861 secession of Texas from the United States. Torget writes, “…we can find within the Republic of Texas of the 1830s and 1840s much of the same ideology that drove the formation of the Confederacy during the 1860s.”
With this history in mind, I began to explore my paternal DNA connections in Texas using traditional and genetic genealogy. Studying close surname Bobo matches with roots in Central Texas, and excluding matches on my grandmother’s Turner line (already in Texas), it did not take long examining family trees on Ancestry, MyHeritage, and genealogy forums like Rootsweb, to zero in on a White man named Andrew Jackson Bobo, otherwise known as “A.J.” or “Jackson” Bobo.
While there were various “Bobos” in Texas between 1840 and 1860, Jackson Bobo appeared to have arrived near beginning of the Civil War (I use A.J. and Jackson interchangeably). Born on September 12, 1815 in Christian County, Kentucky, A.J. Bobo died at the age of 47 in 1863 in Madisonville, Madison County, Texas. Turns out, Madison County directly borders counties my 3rd great grandfather John Bobo is associated with; Grimes, Brazos, and Leon County. A.J. Bobo’s proximity to John Bobo’s first recorded appearance was a clue that could not be ignored.
Pedigree triangulation among DNA matches on Ancestry Thrulines for Andrew Jackson Bobo.
With pedigree triangulation, the Ancestry Thrulines tool and traditional records as waypoints, I experimented with placing A.J. Bobo into my family tree as Cornelius’s father, Uncle, and Grandfather. Almost immediately, several triangulated matches seemed to predict A.J. Bobo was probably Cornelius’s father, and my 5th great grandfather. Several DNA match cousins, each White and direct descendants of A.J. Bobo, matched my paternal grandmother within four generations. I confirmed Jackson’s location in my genetic tree by examining additional DNA matches with A.J. Bobo’s parents’ lines, identified as Absolom H. Bobo Senior and Agnes Goode-Hawkins. Dozens of DNA match cousins who descend from the Goode and Hawkins lines further seems to confirm that A.J. Bobo (or one of his male siblings) was John’s grandfather.
A Rootsweb page about A.J. Bobo’s son William T. Bobo revealed that A.J. Bobo, his wife Harriet, and his two White sons and two daughters migrated to Texas over 300 miles from Louisiana between 1861-1862. The account also firmly proved A.J. Bobo brought his enslaved people with him.
Jackson Bobo, 41, was still an enslaver when he died without a written will in Madisonville, Texas, a year later in 1863. At that time, his wife Harriet, maiden name Brooks, took a $15,000 bond in Ellis County, became the executor of his estate and in August 1864, inventoried his estate for the probate record. The inventory included two wagons, two buggies, two horses, $3,500 in Confederate money and other sundries, and 6 enslaved people.
The enslaved inventoried in 1863 were identified by name, age and value to the estate:
Sally, age 45 years appraised at $800
Mary, age 24 appraised at $1000
Laura, age 19 appraised at $1000
Jim, age 18, appraised at $2000
George, age 13, appraised at $1000
Digs, age 7, appraised at $500
“All of the above were property of the deceased,” reads the document. It’s painful to see values next to their names in inventories like this, but the value also helps to understand if the person’s age was generally accurate. Enslaved men and women in their prime were simply worth more.
Inventory of enslaved, A.J. Bobo Probate Record, 1862, consisting of $5500 worth of enslaved, $3500 Confederate money, and other items.
This illuminating record provided valuable details about A.J. Bobo’s life at the time of his death in 1863. A.J. was generally wealthy up until his death, and the Bobo family’s wealth evaporated when the Confederacy fell, and their enslaved became free. Frustratingly, neither Cornelius Bobo or Emma Brown are among the inventory, yet there’s still information to glean from their not being listed too. At the time, I thought Cornelius and Emma may not have been directly enslaved by A.J. I surmised that they might have been on nearby plantations in Louisiana, they might have been sold away before A.J. ‘s death, or perhaps they died before the migration West. All are reasons they would not appear in the 1864 inventory.
John Bobo is also not directly named. More mystery to be sure, but Madisonville is just 40 miles from Navasota, and John Bobo’s voter registration shows he arrived in Texas about 1861, the same time as A.J. Bobo. Since John Bobo is estimated to be between 12 – 18 years old at the time, it’s possible John was “Jim” or “George” on the inventory and he changed his name. Another interesting record found by Bobo family chroniclers show A.J. and Harriet Bobo’s slaves were composed of family members.
Information Wanted.
John Bobo more than likely arrived in Texas with his White grandfather A.J. Bobo in 1861 as an enslaved man. We don’t know if Cornelius or Emma made the trek. Family history and probate records show A.J. Bobo and his family first arrived in Ellis County, Texas, then made a series of moves over several months, ultimately settling in Madisonville by 1863. The family came by wagon according to family oral history, but the actual route the Bobo’s took is discussed in an 1867 “Information Wanted” ad placed by Sally Harvey, formerly enslaved by the Bobos. Harvey may have been a maiden, married, or adopted name.
After the war closed, Sally worked with another former slave, Reverend J.R. Fenner of Monroe, Louisiana, to post a notice in the New Orleans Advocate asking for any information about her family, taken away to Texas.
“Sally Harvey, concerning her son James who was owned by Jackson Bobo, who took James from Bastrop [Louisiana ] to Ellis County, Texas, in 1862, and Mrs. Bobo [Harriet Brooks, wife of Jackson Bobo – notation my own], took him from there to Milligan [actually Millican, in Brazos Co. – my notation] on Brazos River. Any information may be sent to his mother, care of Rev. J.R. Fenner, Monroe, La., also about her son Thomas who was in the Union Army, and in 1862 passed through Bastrop – write to her in care of Rev. J.R. Fenner, Monroe, La.”
Information Wanted Ad by Sally Harvey, New Orleans Advocate, 25 May 1867.
“Information Wanted” or “Lost Friends” ads were posted during and after the Civil War throughout Reconstruction by formerly enslaved people searching for families broken up by slavery or the war. They were published through Methodist newspapers printed in New Orleans and distributed across Texas, Louisiana, and Mississippi. There are several databases of these ads useful to historians and genealogists. Lost Friends contains advertisements from the Southwestern Christian Advocate, and Last Seen: Finding Family After Slavery are two such databases. One source says The New Orleans Advocate published the Harvey-Bobo notice on 25 May, 1867 but I have not yet acquired the original document.
It’s unclear how all of the enslaved listed in Jackson’s probate are related, but the letter reveals at least Sally Harvey and her 18-year-old son James “Jim” were. Sally’s letter discusses another son, “Thomas”, a soldier in the US Colored Troops who passed through Bastrop in 1862. Sally’s familiarity with the route the Bobo’s took to Texas suggests she was also a refugee there. The inventory also supports this as such sworn testimony was only given after physical examination against a bond. The letter suggests Sally returned to Monroe, the capital of Ouachita Parish (adjacent to Morehouse Parish where the town of Bastrop is found), after emancipation and was likely in Rev. Fenner’s congregation.
Examining the inventory ages further, there is the tantalizing possibility that “George” is John Bobo, and that he changed his name to John after emancipation.
Bastrop, a location in Morehouse Parish, Louisiana revealed where A.J. had come from, became a new clue to search for hints of Cornelius Bobo and Emma Brown. Thus, I knew I had to expand my search for Cornelius and Emma to Louisiana, starting with the most basic of records, slave schedules.
As an enslaver A.J. Bobo had to pay taxes on all his property assessed usually by Sheriffs (also tax collectors), so his enslaved are listed on the 1860 US Slave Schedule for Bastrop, Morehouse Parish, Louisiana by gender and age. Slaves were never listed by name in federal slave schedules, except in a few rare cases. The 1860 schedule shows he enslaved 7 people at this time, and some ages do align with my expectations based on the slave inventory and John’s reported age ranges of Cornelius, Emma, and John.
Female, 36, Black (probably Sally Harvey) (would be 40 in 1864)
Male, 26, Black (probably Cornelius)
Male, 22, mulatto (probably Thomas Harvey)
Female 20, Black (probably Emma)
Female 16, Black (probably Laura) (would be 20 in 1864)
Male 14, Black (probably Jim Harvey) (would be 18 in 1864)
Male 9, mulatto (probably George who became “John”) (would be 13 in 1864)
The 26 year-old male and 14 year-old male are missing from the 1864 inventory. If A.J. and Harriet Bobo did indeed own Cornelius and Emma, and they were living at this time, then I believe the 26 year-old on the 1860 census is Cornelius Bobo. It’s likely the 16-year-old is Emma. Bearing in mind that estimated enslaved ages have wide swings, as much as 5-10 years, the timing aligns around this proposed family unit.
In 1869, Sally Harvey appeared in the Freedmen’s Bureau Records of Monroe, Ouachita Parish, Louisiana, estimated age 60, suffering from “vertigo.” James R. Fenner, who wrote the ad on Sally’s behalf, was also a school teacher with the Freedmen’s Bureau in Monroe from 1867 – 1868.
However, I can find no further records for Sally after that, and I have not been able to locate any of the other enslaved on the Jackson Bobo inventory using Harvey or Bobo as a surname in Millican (Brazos County), Navasota (Grimes County), Monroe or Bastrop, Louisiana. I had gained a lot of valuable information, but more dead ends too.
The information wanted article does illuminate the path the Bobo’s took in Texas. They likely caravanned in a wagon train on the Old East West Road, going west past Shreveport, then south into Ellis County near Dallas, then A.J. took the family further south to Millican along the Brazos River, then finally arrived northwest in Madisonville (Madison County) by July of 1863 when he passed away.
1882 map of Grimes County Texas. Navasota, Millican, and Madisonville highlighted, are all within 45 miles of each other but in three separate counties.
Not coincidental, Millican is just 10 miles northwest of Navasota where John Bobo first appears living in the Freedmen’s town known as “Camp Canaan” in 1870.
Did John Bobo self-liberate in Millican between 1862-63 from A.J. Bobo and Harriet Brooks?
Did John do it with his parents Cornelius Bobo and Emma Brown? If so, where were they?
Dale Baum’s excellent study, The Fate of Texas – The Civil War and the Lone Star State, provides an in-depth assessment of how refugee slaves bolstered the tax rolls of central Texas counties. Between 1860 and 1864, Brazos county saw their enslaved population more than double to 2,013 taxed slaves. Grimes county, where my 3x great-grandfather John Bobo first appears in the historical record, grew from 4,850 to 7,005 taxed slaves.
During the 1860s, the end of the Houston and Texas Central railroads was in Millican in Brazos County, making it the largest town north of Houston and south of Dallas. Many White planters brought their slaves to Millican along the Brazos River. After the Civil War, the town was predominantly Black freeman, but yellow fever decimated the population in 1867. Whites and Blacks fled the fever. White politicians were removed because they were Confederates and Whites became the minority. Still the Arena of Civil War: Violence and Turmoil in Reconstruction Texas, 1865 – 1874reports that Brazos County was the most violent county in all of Texas at that time, leading in murders, lynchings, and crime. Grimes County was not too far behind. Racial tensions rose in Millican as Blacks became elected leaders in the town and registered to vote. The KKK marched through the streets sparking a series of events resulting in the Millican massacre, a race riot leaving hundreds of Blacks dead. Millican’s Freedmen’s Bureau records are full of letters about the violence. Were Cornelius and Emma among the victims of violence in Millican, with only John surviving? It seems doubtful that A.J. Bobo and his White sons would have not pursued Cornelius, Emma, and John relentlessly because of their value to them in a strange land. I also don’t believe A.J. Bobo hired them out, a common practice among slaveholders. As valuable property generating income in an unstable time, they would have appeared in the 1864 probate inventory, with Harriet trying to claw-back the proceeds of their labor from any debtors to the estate. Did the Bobo’s sell Cornelius and Emma in Texas between 1862 and 1863? Could A.J. Bobo have sold his own flesh and blood? Absolutely. Children of slaveholders did not hold a special status. There’s also the sad possibility that Cornelius and Emma simply didn’t take the journey West.
Refugees from the Sun King.
Though I have not found Cornelius Bobo and Emma Brown anywhere else in the historical record other than John Bobo’s death certificate, I have had to imagine and reconstruct them in the liminal spaces of the life of Andrew “Jackson” Bobo, my 5x great grandfather. A.J.’s “FAN CLUB” or his friends, acquaintances, and neighbors, being mostly White planters in Bastrop Louisiana, and earlier in Claiborne County, Mississippi, have detailed records like land patents, bills of sale, wills, even articles about their lives in local newspapers and other histories. They also have descendants who have written family histories and taken DNA tests – a genetic fan club of descendants if you like.
So far, I knew A.J. Bobo was likely Cornelius’s enslaver and biological father. He was a Mississippian, Louisianan, and briefly a refugee in Texan, a farmer, a planter, a Sheriff, and a family man – and the source of my “Bobo” family surname. The fact that Jackson was married twice though would prove critical. With knowledge about his first wife’s family, I was able to identify where and when Cornelius’s own enslaved mother lived. Understanding the lives of the people of Port Gibson, Mississippi and A.J.’s early life also helped me identify the family of John Bobo’s mother, Emma Brown, and her living descendants.
A.J. Bobo’s family took part in the western expansion, riding a wave of settlement as cotton planters along the famed Natchez Trace, the ancient overland route from Tennessee into the Mississippi river valley. I’ve learned that all of A.J.’s parents and siblings were one-time enslavers as well, cashing in on the cotton boom with forced labor. Genetic and traditional research also shine a light on Cornelius’s biological mother. Even the curious and violent life of A.J.’s Anglo children reveal something about the life Cornelius and Emma must have led. While A.J. Bobo spent a significant portion of his life enforcing the law, two of his own children became violent criminals in post-Civil War Texas. In understanding A.J. Bobo ‘s life, his family and contemporaries, Cornelius and Emma can move from the margins of the page to the center.
But first, what are the origins of the surname Bobo? And who were the early french Huguenot Beaubeau family?
Andrew Jackson Bobo was the great-grandson of Gabriel Beaubeau II (later Baubau, then anglicized to Bobo). Gabriel was born about 1651 in Southwestern France, 120 KM north of Bordeaux in Saint-Sauvant, Charente-Maritime, Poitou-Charentes, France to Gabriel Beaubeau I and Catherine Rivault, and by 1700 emigrated to the English colonies. Gabriel Beaubeau II is found in the Abstracts of Virginia Land Office which include numerous references to land patented by “French refugees,” the Protestants (Huguenots) who fled France after Louis XIV revoked the Edict of Nantes. The word Huguenot combined the Flemish ‘Huisgenooten’, meaning House fellows, with the German ‘Eidgenosen’, meaning a group bound together by oath. The Edict of Nantes of 1598 established and ensured the peaceful coexistence of Catholics and Protestants and brought a stop to 36 years of what was basically, a religious civil war in France. The Edict guaranteed freedom to worship by both religions, and declared “all men stood equal before the law.” The reversal of the Edict devastated the peace; it forbade religious practice for the Protestant Reformed Church and stipulated that all Protestant churches be destroyed or torn down. Pastors recanted or went into exile. Of the 800,000 oppressed Huguenots in France, nearly one-fourth left the country, starting colonies all over Europe, British America, and even South Africa.
Historians of Gabriel Beaubeau II (1651-1720) say he traveled to England and then to the English Colony of Virginia. Extensive research on Gabriel can be found in the Blakenstein Genealogy, and in the Bobo Newsletter, which is well cited. Other family history blogs like the Bobo Branch by Lynn Yantis has attempted to connect the family to their modern descendants. Upon arrival in Virginia, Gabriel married Elizabeth Spencer White (1682-1704) of Jamestown. Elizabeth was the daughter of Thomas Spencer and Anne Susannah Perry, and widow of Captain James White.
From Blankenstein, “Elizabeth and James appear to have been involved in the importation of immigrants to the colony, and had received at least one land grant (23 Oct 1703) for that reason. It is unclear what their role was in this endeavor, but it was common practice among the early settlers to pay for passage of immigrants in exchange for working their plantations, and often granting land in exchange for their labor.”
Gabriel “Baubau” appears on the record in the Colony of Virginia for the first time on November 7, 1700 in a land grant to Robert Nash, listed as being one of seven people transported into the colony by Nash according to the New Kent County, Virginia Patent Book. Researchers tracked Gabriel Beaubeau’s brief years in the Colony, where he had at least one child before his death. Land records, patents and taxes, mainly around his wife Elizabeth, are found in the King William County, Virginia Patent Books.
“It appears likely that Gabriel Baubau came to Virginia from England circa 1700 and settled about two miles south of present-day Beulahville [now in King William County], on Herring Creek. He married Elizabeth Spencer White, widow of James White, before 23 Oct 1703.
While there is no further record of Gabriel, Elizabeth’s name continues to appear in several land records until 1724. At least one of these refers to land that can be identified as being about 10 miles west of Gabriel’s homestead, in Caroline County., that county being divided from King William Co. in 1728.”
In a remarkable coincidence, my father, Richard Johnson, the 8th grandson of Gabriel Beaubeau II lives a fifteen-minute drive from Beulahville outside Richmond.
Gabriel Beaubeau’s Timeline in the British Colony of Virginia
1700 – 1703 – Gabriel Beaubeau II arrives in Jamestown, Virginia. He doesn’t appear to make it to the French Huguenot settlement of Manakin (northwest of Richmond) and settles in Beulahville, VA area, just south of the Mattaponi River, and Northeast of Richmond.
19 Feb 1703 – Elizabeth White makes a gift of 1300 pounds of tobacco, a horse and 100 acres (“about a quarter mile below BUBBOES’s house”) to each of her sons Thomas and James (by late husband James White). “The land being 200 acres of land given me by my father Thomas Spencer of King and Queen Co.” Witnessed by “Gabriel Baubau”. See King William Co.,VA Patent Book 5, page 17.
23 Apr 1703 – Samuel Williams and Daniel Coleman granted 600 acres in King William Co., “between Williams and Bubboe’s plantations.” (King William Co., VA Patent Book 9, page 549).
23 Oct 1703 – James White and ELIZ BUBBOE, (Late ELIZ White), 250 acs. King William County bet. the Herring Cr. about 1/4 of a mile below BUBBOE’s house; a long run of the dividing br.; p. 552 Trans. of 5 pers. Hugh Allen, Eliz Penny, John Snipe, James Turner, Anne Darrington. (King William Co., Patent Book No. 9, page 75.)
1703 – Gabriel Beaubeau is married to Elizabeth Spencer White.
23 Oct 1703 – Elizabeth Bubboe, widow of James White, receives a grant of 250 acres in King William Co. for transporting 5 people into the colony. (King William Co., VA Patent Book 9, page 552).
1704 – Elizabeth Bobo rented 200 acres.
1704 – Francis Spencer Bobo Sr. son of Gabriel Beaubeau and Elizabeth Bobo is born. Gabriel Beaubeau dies.
1704 – “Elizabeth Bobo” is listed as a widow (Gabriel Beaubeau is not listed so has presumably died) in King William City, Va. Quit Rent Rolls. During the colonial period all landowners in Virginia paid to the King an annual “quit rent” of one shilling for every. This is the first time “Bobo” is spelled in this way in the written record.
1 Apr 1717 – “Elizabeth Boboe” and Thomas Cartwright purchase 400 acres in King William Co. (King William Co., VA Patent Book 10, page 313).
1719 – Elizabeth Bobo received a land grant in King and Queen County, Virginia.
8 Jul 1724 – William Eubank purchased 400 acres in St. John’s Parish. King William Co. adjoining land of Thomas Cartwright and “Elizabeth Boboe.” (King William Co., VA Patent Book 10, page 346.)
Elizabeth and Gabriel had one son about 1704, Francis Spencer Bobo Sr. (1705-1764). Francis was married twice, first to Mary Taylor (birth and death date unknown) and then to Jane Wofford (1702 – 1737). Francis Spencer and Jane had 6 children whose first names would carry on in their children’s names creating a hall of mirrors of Bobo descendants sharing many first names repeating generation after generation, stretching from Virginia in the late 1600s to South Carolina, Kentucky, and Mississippi in the 1800s. Spencer and Jane’s last son, Sampson Bobo (1737-1805) married Sarah “Sally” Simpson (d. 1816) and by 1737 moved to Bute, North Carolina, then to Spartanburg, South Carolina by 1776. He purportedly served under Col. Brandon during the Revolutionary War. Sampson Bobo and Sally Bobo nee’ Simpson had 13 children, including Absolom H. Bobo Sr., the father of Andrew Jackson Bobo. Sampson Bobo died in 1806 in Spartanburg, leaving 10 enslaved people inventoried in his probate, and when his wife Sally Simpson-Bobo died in 1816, she had one enslaved person in her will.
“Last Will and Testament of Sally Bobo of Spartanburg District; rec. 26 Dec 1816; to son Burrel , $100; to son Absalom my colt; to son Cheney, one negro girl Marsey; to son Jeremiah, one negro Lynda; to son Simpson’s five children, vis. Polley, John, Nancy, Betsey & Salley, $500; my son William Wilder, my son Spencer Bobo, my son Baram; my son Absalom, my son Cheney, my son Hiram, my son Jeremiah, my son Willis, my dau. Lovina, my dau. Polley, my dau. Betsey, my dau. Nancies children Salley, Rachel and Samuel Simpson; sons Cheney and Hiram Executors, 20 January 1813.” Witnessed by A. Casey, M. Casey. Proven by Aaron Casey, 26 February 1816.”
“Chaney Bobo exr. of Sally Bobo decd came forward with the advancements to the legatees of Samson Bobo decd…to Wm. Wilder , George Roebuck, Spencer Bobo, Sampson Bobo Jr., Absalom Bobo Senior. Chaney Bobo, Matthew Patton, Barram Bobo, Absalom Bobo Junior., Anthony Foster, Hiram Bobo, Jeremiah Bobo, Willis Bobo & Burrel Bobo, there being fourteen legatees…31 October 1818″
In the book McCall-Tidwell and Allied Families aspects of the Bobo Family history are captured but incomplete. The French Huguenot ancestry is correct, but when, and who among the family arrived in the Colonies is quite muddled. So it’s hard to declare the rest of the information about Sampson Bobo as fully accurate, but it claims Sampson had 450 acres on the Tyger River in Craven County, North Carolina before serving in the Revolutionary War. It is accurate that Francis Spencer Bobo Sr. later moved to South Carolina and lived in Cross Keys in Union County. His son Barrum was a prosperous businessman who owned the Cross Keys Plantation and Stagecoach Stop, now on the South Carolina Registry of Historic Places. There is a large Bobo cemetery in Cross Keys.
In some public family Bobo trees on Ancestry and WikiTree, Absolom Humphrey Bobo Sr. also known as “Ab” (1765 – 1831), son of Sampson Bobo and Sallie Simpson, is often misidentified.
First, Absolom H. Bobo Sr. is often confused with his first cousin “Absalom Bobo” (spelled with an “a” – which was often interchanged with “o” in records), son of Spencer Bobo Jr. (1728-1817) and Judith Foster, who married his first cousin Mary “Polly” Bobo, a daughter of Sampson Bobo. If you follow the Blankenstein tree, Sampson and Spencer Jr. were brothers. Their children married their first cousins, not uncommon for those times.
Second, details about Absolom H. Bobo Snr. are also mistakenly attributed in some trees to the life of his uncle, Absolom Bobo (1730-1811), another son of Francis Spencer Snr. (1705-1764).
It was easy for early genealogies to contain these mistakes as generation after generation named their children after uncles and aunts.
We know Absolom H. Bobo Sr., son of Sampson Bobo and Sallie Simpson, is indeed the correct father of A.J. Bobo, based on Senior’s birthplace of Bute, North Carolina, where several of his siblings (Levinah, Burrel/Burwell, Spencer, Nancy) were also born to Sampson and Sally. Sampson Bobo appears on the 1773 tax rolls there in Bute County. In 1805, Absolom Senior relinquished his rights to his father Sampson’s estate to his brother Hiram. In the Christian County deed, Absolom’s relationship to his father Sampson is proven. He identifies himself as “one of 6” heirs.
“I have bargained and sold and by these present do bargain and sell Hiram Bobo his heirs and assign all my right, title, interest claim and demand in and to the Estate of my Father Sampson Bobo late of the said County of Spartenburg, Deceased, which I as one of 6 him of the said Sampson deceased, could or would have a right to claim & have and which may fall to my share out of the said Estate as such, hereby giving to the said Ann Bobo full and adequate in law or Equity to record or in any manner which he may think most Expedient and lawful to receive into his possession…”
Absolom H. Bobo Snr. Deed, Dec 23 1805, Christian County, KY
Later, both Absolom H. Bobo Sr. and his son Absolom H. Bobo Jr. appear in the 1818 probate of Sally Simpson-Bobo.
Another source of insight is the pamphlet Bobo Cousins by the Dozens, by Herbert M. Novell, Jr. and Jeanie Patterson Newell written in 1968. Much of Novell and Newell’s work informs the 2005 pamphlet The Bobo Family. The Descendants of Gabriel Bobo by Catherine Reuther. The lives of Bobos in South Carolina have also been detailed in the blog, The Forgotten South.
Finally, the Bobo Roots Cellar, an email newsletter about the Bobo family history, also contained valuable information shared by Bobo descendants through decades of research.
The details of the young life of Absolom H. Bobo Sr. are scant. He was 10 years old when the colonies became the United States of America, but in 1806 at the age of 41, Absolom married Agnes Goode-Hawkins in Hopkinsville, in Christian County, Kentucky. They had the permission of Agnes’s mother Elizabeth and her brother James Hawkins testified. The Hawkins hailed from nearby Rutherford County, North Carolina.
Earlier, in 1803 in Rutherford County, Benjamin Hawkins became guardian of Agnes Goode-Hawkins and Benjamin Hawkins, upon the death of their father John. Benjamin Hawkins then relocated to Christian County. Agnes’s father John was born in Mecklenburg County, Virginia and died at age 36 in 1758. His will was probated in Orange County where his wife Mary Howard died in 1787.
A.J.’s father Absolom H. Bobo “Ab” Sr. was in Christian county for the land and fortune when he met Agnes. A 1807 Kentucky Land Grant shows Ab Bobo gained 200 acres on the Sinking Fork branch of the Little River in Western Kentucky. Apparently, Christian county was settled by many former soldiers in the Revolutionary War with their land pensions. Until then, Kentucky was a hunting-ground used by the Delawares, Wyandots, Shawnees, and other tribes from beyond the Ohio River, and the Catawba, Cherokee and Creek tribes. The tribes cooperatively hunted deer, elk and buffalo before being driven out by Anglo settlers.
In 1810, Ab Bobo Snr. had 2 enslaved people in his home in Hopkinsville, Kentucky, alongside Agnes and one boy under the age of 10, presumably a first son. I have not been able to identify Ab’s first son’s name and if he survived. Their boys (probably twins), Absolom Bobo Jr. and Andrew Jackson Bobo, were born five years later in the same county.
The Bobos on the Natchez Trace.
When Ab Bobo Snr. moved south from Western Kentucky to Mississippi around 1817 to develop land under grants, he most likely took the Natchez Trace, a prehistoric, pre-Columbian road used by Indigenous tribes for hundreds of years between present-day Nashville Tennessee and Natchez in Mississippi. France controlled this road and most of the territory west of the Appalachian mountains (named Louisiana in honor of the French King) from about 1700 to 1763 until it was lost in the Seven Years War to the Spanish. The network of “Indian trails” ended in the vitally strategic town of Natchez which sat on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi. In 1803, Thomas Jefferson successfully negotiated with Napoleon Bonaparte for all of France’s holdings west of the Mississippi in the Louisiana Purchase. With an incredible amount of new territory available for Western expansion, Americans rushed in, often taking the Trace. Treaties with the Choctaw and Chickasaw did not stop travelers from being preyed upon by bandits. Large caravans often traveled for safety, and inns known as “stands” soon sprang up to give travelers a safe place to stop.
1911 map of Claiborne County, highlighted are Port Gibson (county seat), Grand Gulf, Willow (Willow Springs), Rocky Springs, Hermanville, and Brandywine, areas associated with the planters in the Bobo, Kilcrease, Truly, Booth, and Dorsey families.
Along the central Mississippi river, a string of small villages and cities attracted a new wave of American settlers. Port Gibson in Claiborne County, was founded on a bend in Bayou Pierre in 1788 by the planter Samuel Gibson, south of the Big Black River. It was first visited during La Salle’s exploration of the Mississippi River in 1763. La Salle’s party came across a bountiful alluvial plain, fertilized with Black muddy soil from the time when the Ohio River and Mississippi’s confluence was actually much further South than present day, in the area between Vicksburg and Natchez. The English held the territory between 1763 and 1781 throughout the Revolutionary War. Then the Spanish took the claim by treaty from 1781 to 1798.
A key source of information about the earliest settlers in the area, some of whom are my ancestors, The Spanish Natchez Court Records chronicles the period between 1781 – 1798 going into great detail about the lives of the inhabitants of the area at that time. Sureties, bills of sale for land and slaves, inventories, appraisals, wills, and land claims (1767-1805) deals with British land grants in the Natchez District and is based on abstracts of land titles submitted to the United States for confirmation of land ownership.
Natchez Trace Parkway, Mississippi
Claiborne County lies on the unceeded ancestral lands of the Natchez tribe that purportedly had up to 60 villages along the River. They were wiped out in colossal acts of genocide by the French in retaliation for skirmishes that resulted from encroaching Anglo settlers. The Choctaw, Chickasaw and Tensas tribes moved in during the vacuum and had a better relationship with the French and Spanish. The Choctaw later ceded the land to the British in the 1801 Fort Adams treaty.
By 1776, when the Natchez region was under English rule, there were only 78 families. Briefly, the English “Lyman Colony” settled the area between 1774 and 1776 but the Lyman colony failed after troubles with the Spanish. The 1792 Spanish Census recorded a population of 4,630 settlers in the district with nearly half being mostly enslaved Blacks. Bayou Pierre had a population of just 343, about 81 families, 254 Whites (109 of these females and 100 Negroes) according to Katy McCaleb-Headley’s deeply-researched history, Claiborne County: The Promised Land.
1822 land patent to Absolom Bobo for 27 acres in the Washington district in Claiborne County.
Ab Bobo and his family arrived around 1817 and he got his first land patent 5 years later in 1822 for forcing his enslaved to improve 79 acres along the North Fork of Bayou Pierre, a Mississippi tributary in Rocky Springs, Claiborne County. His family appears in the 1820 census with 5 enslaved people. Ab and Agnes’s children included Elizabeth Foster Bobo (b. 1812), Andrew Jackson Bobo (b. 1815), Absolom Humphrey Bobo Jr. (b. 1815 and perhaps A.J.’s identical twin). His eldest boy was not on the census. Ab and Agnes would go on to have three more children in Mississippi; Harriet (b. 1817), Jane (b. 1820), and John M. (b. 1822).
By 1826, it was clear the Bobo’s move to Mississippi was not without risk. In June, Ab placed an ad in the Natchez Newspaper offering to “sell my land and some negroes.” He tried to spin it, “the situation is known to many as an advantageous one, and extremely healthy.” He was 61 years old, and his children were quite young.
Ad placed by Absolom Bobo Snr., to sell land and slaves in the Natchez Newspaper and Public Advertiser, June 13, 1826.
By 1830 Ab Snr. held 11 slaves, so his fortunes had shifted. His sons, Absolom Jr., Jackson and John were now old enough (15 to 16 years old) to manage the plantation as farmhands and overseers of their enslaved laborers.
Nearby Port Gibson was just a few miles away. Port Gibson was an elegant little inland town with antebellum homes and stately churches. During the Civil War, General Ulysses spared the city’s destruction following the Battle of Port Gibson. General Ulysses S. Grant is supposed to have declared that it was “too beautiful to burn.” The area directly west across the river in Louisiana was being cultivated and the home of several large wealthy plantations also owned by Port Gibson and Natchez planters.
Anchuka House, Port GibsonPort Gibson buggy driver, 1950.Gage House, Port Gibson.Gage House slave quarters.Windsor House plantation in Port Gibson, artist rendering.
In a 1855 letter to the New Orleans Daily Delta, one traveler to Port Gibson waxed lyrical about the city, “Landing at the waning and dilapidated town of Grand Gulf, which is but the piraeus or landing place of the real city, I was whirled, in some ten minutes’ time, over a fast and substantial railroad, some eighteen miles, right into the centre of a beautiful city, of which I had no previous conception. The wide, regular streets, cutting each other at right angles, lined with elegant mansions embowered in a perfect sea of evergreen shrubbery, showed me an Arcadian vision of spring in bloom even while winter was reigning monarch of all the rest of the world. The site is most unique and romantic.”
In 1831, Ab Snr. died and his will was probated in Port Gibson. His wife Agnes administered the probate. As was required, Ab’s estate was inventoried and debtors invited to make their claims against the estate.
In 1833, 13 enslaved people were appraised as inventory of the Absolom H. Bobo Snr. estate.
Abram $600
Litey $600
Lucy $400
Milly $450
Betty $350
Rhoda, Bytha, Susan, Willoughby & Child, $850
Arnold $600
Ben $600
Jack $300
Note the names, Rhoda, Willoughby, and Jack – they’ll turn up later. Much of Ab Bobo’s estate was put up at auction due to insolvency. The minors were ordered tutored and the widow Agnes Goode-Hawkins-Bobo remained mistress of the plantation. By 1840, she was wealthy, having secured two land patents herself for about 150 acres in total, and holding 18 slaves, 12 “employed in agriculture” or working in the cotton fields. It’s unclear when she died, but it was likely before 1850. I have not found her will.
In 1836, A.J.’s sister Elizabeth “Eliza” married Dr. Thomas Turpin. The Turpins had 140 acres in Ouachita Parish, Louisiana in 1838 but remained in Claiborne County until at least 1850. Not surprisingly, the Turpins were also part of the same wagon train from Kentucky that brought the Bobos.
Jane Bobo, A.J.’s younger sister, lived with her older sister Harriet and her husband Walter Rossman for a time. She married an overseer, lived for a while in Madison Parish, Louisiana, but was widowed by 1860 and returned to Port Gibson, with 8 slaves of her own.
A.J.’s twin brother Absolom H. Jr. “Ab Jr.” was an entrepreneur who married Eliza Mississippi Robinson in 1838. He lived in Rocky Springs to the west of Port Gibson. In the 1840 census, he enslaved 7 people.
Ab Jr. became the charismatic owner of “Washington Hall” also known as the “Bobo House” hotel in Port Gibson, Mississippi. The lively tavern and inn was one of two in the town at the time according to The Southern Business Directory and General Commercial Advertiser published in 1854.
Advertisement for Bobo House (formerly Washington Hall) in the Port Gibson Reveille, January 1854. It advertises the hotel’s cleanliness after use during a yellow fever pandemic.
Ab Jr. was a Captain, most likely of a local militia or vigilance committee, though it’s unclear if he actually served. For several years, Ab Jr. was the Sheriff and Jailor of Claiborne County between 1849 and 1854. He was listed often as a point of contact in runaway slave ads he placed in Louisiana and Mississippi newspapers.
1851 runaway slave ad placed by Sheriff A.H. Bobo (Absolom Bobo Jr.).
When Absolom Jr. died in 1854, he had a lengthy probate full of the inventory of Bobo House worth $8,400 (a parlor and 17 rooms according to the inventory). It also included the following enslaved who were to be sold at public auction in 1856 to pay his debts.
Everett, a negro man, $1200
Fanny (& infant), a negro woman, $1000
Egbert, a negro boy, $900
Hano, a negro boy, $600
Kate, a negro girl, $200
Emily, a negro woman, $1200
John, a negro man, $500
Lucy, a negro woman, $600
Ben, a negro man, $1200
Sam, a negro man (very old), $0
Its possible Lucy was the same woman listed in his father’s probate. His wife Eliza administered the estate and by 1860 retained $2,000 in real estate and $4,000 in personal wealth.
Harriet Bobo, the second daughter of Ab Snr. and Agnes Bobo, married Walter Rossman, a Jewish doctor, in 1836. Harriet clearly inherited several of Ab Snr.’s slaves. In 1846, a “Schedule of Property” belonging to Harriet Bobo-Rossman included:
Jack, a negro man
Willoby, a negro man
Sandy, a boy
Rhody, a woman
Mary, a woman
Alice, a girl
Elizabeth, a girl
Jack, Willoughby, and Rhody (Rhoda) are clearly the same slaves appearing on Ab Snr’s inventory. Most likely, Harriet bought them from his estate. I think we can presume more of Ab Snr.’s enslaved may have gone to other children.
Part 2.
The 1840s in America were dominated by the idea of western expansion and modernization. Captain Charles Wilkes’ expedition circumnavigated the South pole, claiming it for the United States in 1840. The world was shrinking at the dawn of the Victorian age but America was growing. The end of the Mexican-American War saw America’s borders expand vastly to include California, sparking the gold rush. News and culture was on tour as circuses, carnivals, circuit riders and preachers toured from town to town, and the Irish potato famine drove immigrants across the Atlantic to America. The political scene was dominated by the Democrats and Whigs – the Whigs were focused on promoting industrial conformity and progress, big sweeping commercial enterprises that improved infrastructure like railroads, education and public education. The Democrats were busy defending slavery, denounced nationalization and continued to promote state’s independence.
Not long after his father Ab Snr. died, A.J. “Jackson” Bobo was now a man in his prime, 25 years old, he can be found living in Willow Springs, 6 miles east of Port Gibson near Hinds County in 1840. He had his horse stolen that year and placed an ad in the South Western Farmer of Hinds County.
Notice of stolen horse placed by A.J. Bobo in May 1840 in the South-Western Farmer in Hinds County, Mississippi.
I speculate that A.J. was either an overseer on a plantation in the area or helping his widowed mother Agnes manage hers. At 27 years of age, in 1842, A.J. Bobo met, courted and married Eliza Ann Truly (age unknown), daughter of John Harrison Truly and Lydia Booth (1795 – 1845). Eliza Ann had two sisters, Amanda, and Charlotte – she was likely the middle sister. She also had several step-siblings from her mother’s second marriage. In a remarkable arrangement, two of those step-siblings would also become the spouses of the Truly daughters, and Eliza Ann had already been one of them.
Eliza Ann’s mother Lydia was the daughter of John Booth (1745 – 1825) and Hester Kilcrease (1785 – 1840). John Booth arrived first in the region when it was under Spanish control, first passing through Alabama where he was listed under “Spanish inhabitants”according to May W. McBee’s abstracts of the Spanish Natchez Court Records, 1767 – 1805.
John Booth is listed as living on the north branch of Bayou Pierre April 2, 1790 where he received a grant of 640 acres on January 1, 1793. He also appears on the Spanish Census of 1792 as “Juan Bouth.” John was a planter but also served in the War of 1812 as a Private in Hind’s Battalion of Cavalry. His wife, Hester Kilcrease (d. 1840), may have been first married to Robert Kilcrease in Edgefield, South Carolina, but migrated west through Tennessee. For reasons that are unclear, Robert left Hester in Georgia where they first met. Alice Tray Welch writes in Family Records Mississippi Revolutionary Soldiers, that Hester Kilcrease (maiden name unknown) met John Booth there and married, then Hester and her two children William (1780 -1845) and Parmelia “Lilly” (1792 – 1846) moved back to Port Gibson with John. A “William Kilcrease” received a Spanish land grant in 1806 for clearing 390 acres on Bayou Pierre in the Natchez Court Records in 1797. It’s possible it was Hester’s son, with the aid of slaves. The plantation became known as “Pleasant Hill.”
“Pleasant Hill was located about three miles north east of Hermanville on property adjoining Talbot…It was built on a Spanish grant to John Booth of Maryland and Georgia, a Revolutionary soldier in 1793. It is not known what the original house was like, but in the early 1830s, John Booth Jr., built a two-story columned home on the site of the older home. He named it Pleasant Hill because it was there that the rolling land made a sharp drop into the lowland of Bayou Pierre and thus made possible a view of many acres.”
Claiborne County, Mississippi: The Promised Land. United States, Claiborne County Historical Society, 1976.
Hester (Kilcrease) Booth’s 1838 probate records indicate her second marriage to John Booth produced six more children. Hester’s daughter Lydia was married twice, first to John Harrison Truly, producing three daughters, Amanda, Charlotte, and Eliza Ann. When John Truly died, Lydia remarried the widower Elijah L. Clark, Snr. (1786 – 1847) in 1833 who was ten years her senior.
Elijah L. Clark, Snr. lived along Tabor Creek and was the son of the wealthy settler Gibson Clark Snr. Elijah’s father Gibson had been in the District since 1781 according to the Spanish Natchez Court Records and owned land on Stoney Creek (an earlier name for Bayou Pierre) in 1786. He had patents for 600 acres. Elijah’s uncle was John Clark whose lands adjoined John Booth’s plantation. Gibson sold some of his Bayou Pierre lands for $5000 in 1806 and holdings in Concordia Parish, Louisiana before he died. Gibson left his children sizable estates, and his son Elijah half of the ownership in a mill valued at $1000 in 1820.
Elijah had also been married once before and lost much of his family and four enslaved people in a hauntingly tragic ferry boat accident on the Mississippi earlier in 1833. Elijah, his son Gibson (named for his grandfather), and daughter-in-law, Matilda Coursey and their child, another son John B. Clark (named for his granduncle) and his wife and child, and Matilda’s younger sister set out to cross the Mississippi back to Grand Gulf from the Louisiana side at Chittaloosa. They had several horses and were accompanied by 4 enslaved people.
The June 21 edition of The Natchez Weekly Courier reported, that the ferry “got into an eddy of the Gulf, and in the confusion that ensued, the horse became frightened, and rushing to one end of the flat, tilted it under water; the eddy at the moment seizing it, drew the end downwards, until the boat almost stood perpendicular to the water. The motion was so sudden that everything was precipitated into the stream. The horses swam to shore, but everyone drowned.”
Only Elijah Clark, the ferryman, and his grandson survived. In all, 10 people drowned and the remaining bodies were never recovered.
Death of Elijah L. Clark family in ferry accident, Natchez Weekly Courier, June 21, 1833.
Elijah and Lydia’s July wedding, just a few weeks after, must have been a sad and subdued affair – and driven entirely out of convenience. Such a tragedy must have gutted the tight knit planter community on Bayou Pierre where many of the families were intermarried over several generations. Their sons married their available daughters, their enslaved community intermixed, and their children often inherited complex legacies. Death was a constant companion on the Mississippi for settlers, planters, enslaved and free people. Besides the dangers of the Mississippi which flooded regularly, yellow fever was a near constant epidemic that struck indiscriminately too. If a person got a mild case of yellow fever, they would recover from a fever and chills within a few weeks appearing jaundiced with a yellow complexion, hence the name “yellow fever.” However, a severe case would lead to “Black vomit” as the infected person’s kidneys and other internal organs failed leading to death. In 1841 Natchez authorities appointed a temporary board of health to combat yellow fever but it could not be stopped. The worst case thirty years later caused over 4,000 deaths. The Civil War, flooding, tornados, and yellow fever literally turned places like Willow Springs, Grand Gulf, and Rocky Springs into ghost towns after 1865.
The area’s peak was in 1860 with numerous prosperous plantations, inhabitants and slaves. Yet after the Civil War, one inhabitant reported, “My slaves, horses, and mules are carried off, my fences torn down, and my crops destroyed.” Discovering where these formerly enslaved inhabitants would migrate to during Reconstruction would actually be instrumental in later identifying the family of my 4x great grandmother Emma Brown.
The Planter Prince.
While Cornelius Bobo was descended from Africans, his Anglo origins can be found in the genetic network of the Bayou Pierre families, whose blood and DNA also run through my veins. A.J. Bobo’s first marriage to the daughter of Elijah L. Clark and Lydia Truly-Booth, Eliza Ann Truly created the opportunity to prey upon Eliza Ann’s enslaved women. It was a common tragedy forced upon African American women already deprecated by slavery.
The November 1842 wedding made A.J. Bobo a planter “prince” and son-in-law to the powerful and wealthy Elijah L. Clark. Since Ab Snr. had gone bankrupt in 1840, the union presented an incredible opportunity for A.J. to shake off the Bobo misfortune.
The Clark and Bobo planter families grew further entwined when two years later, John M. Bobo (A.J. ‘s 22 year-old brother), married Eliza Ann’s 19 year-old sister Charlotte. John and Charlotte, following a land patent, then moved near Milliken’s Bend, Louisiana, about 15 miles west of Vicksburg across the Mississippi. On the bend, John and Charlotte had one son, Asa, and operated a tavern. They also enslaved 5 people according to the 1850 census.
Eliza Ann Truly’s family also included her older step-siblings, and in fact, Eliza Ann was married first to her own step-brother Gibson “Robinson” Clark in 1835. Robinson was the second son of Elijah L. Clark Snr., and his first wife Nancy Robinson. Robinson had died sometime between 1835 and 1842 of unknown causes.
From Rocky Springs, Robinson’s father, Elijah, wrote a letter granting permission for this convenient union to the clerk of Hinds County stating, “I will inform you that he is my son, and the young lady my step-daughter, my wife and myself consent to the marriage and wish you to grant license…”
Eliza Ann’s older sister Amanda Truly, sixteen at the time, also married her step-brother, Charles Booth Clarke, one year later in 1836. For Elijah, the marriages of his three daughters-in-laws were clearly part of a calculus to manage his estate. He had lost his oldest and youngest two sons, John and Gibson in the tragic ferry accident in 1833. Elijah needed more sons to replace the loss of three dead sons who would have inherited much of his fortune. Elijah needed heirs.
Marriage was a tool of wealth management and less a tool of love. Lydia brought three available young daughters to Elijah’s doorstep. Some time before 1840, Lydia most likely passed away for Elijah remarried a third time to Martha Bolls-Erwin. Martha was a widower of William Erwin of Jefferson County, Mississippi, where Elijah already had large holdings (Elijah had 40 slaves working land in Jefferson County according to the 1830 census). Elijah L. Clark died in 1847 and is buried in the Lum cemetery next to his last wife.
Yet among the growing number of wills, probate records, church and cemetery records, census docs and land patents, I could not find Cornelius Bobo. Even an exhaustive search of slave records in Brenda Terry’s invaluable abstract, Slaves 1: Claiborne County, Mississippi, did not turn up Cornelius. So once again, I turned to DNA to see if my paternal Bobo line had living cousins who matched as descendants of either of the interconnected Truly, Booth, or Clark families. Understanding this complex intermarriage of families could reveal more clues.
My eldest DNA tester, my paternal grandmother who lived to age 93, had no obvious DNA cousin matches descended from the Truly, Booth, or Clark lines out of Mississippi. I decided to go back a further generation and then Eliza Ann’s grandmother’s unusual Scottish surname, Kilcrease, lit up with several matches! The DNA matches were all descended from a Kilcrease who appeared in Ancestry’s pedigree triangulation tool, Thrulines. Matches indicated the common ancestor was likely about 5 generations back from my grandmother. With close verification of the match trees and my own research of traditional records on individual Kilcrease lines, I discovered that William Kilcrease, son of Hester Kilcrease, was very likely the common ancestor, and the father of Cornelius’s mother.
Knowing that Eliza Ann Truly’s uncle had fathered an enslaved mulatto woman likely in the possession of the Truly-Booth family, it became far easier to imagine the grim scenario.
Cornelius’s mother was probably a dowry slave belonging to Eliza Ann Truly who would go on to become A.J. Bobo’s property by marriage. This is how my grandmother gained DNA attributable to both Bobo and Kilcrease lines. We are descended from A.J. Bobo, and an enslaved woman, my 5th great grandmother, who lived in the Truly household and was the biological daughter of William Kilcrease. She was biologically, Eliza Ann’s second cousin, and a granddaughter of Hester Kilcrease, the mistress of Pleasant Hill plantation.
Unfortunately, I can not identify Cornelius’s mother by name, and have no further evidence of her existence – no birth or death date, no record of her life, she fills the space only in the genetic record.
Could Cornelius’s mother, my 6th great-grandmother, have been originally enslaved by Hester Kilcrease? In 1840 when Hester died, she willed several of her slaves to her children. Her son, William Kilcrease inherited two women.
“I give unto my son William Kilcrease one negro woman Lucy, and negro woman, Nancy, and also my gray horse,” wrote Hester. There were 4 other enslaved women listed in the will as well.
Neither Lucy nor Nancy appear by name in William’s probate after his death in 1845 in Claiborne County. They either died, were sold away or perhaps given to his children or heirs. I have only the knowledge that Cornelius’s mother was assaulted by A.J. Bobo, and that her mother suffered the same awful, horrific act by William Kilcrease. Thanks are due to genetic genealogy and the brave descendants who took DNA tests and shared the results with the world. DNA shined a searing light into the dark and downright evil that surrounded Cornelius Bobo and his kin.
Discoveries of Anglo ancestors among my formerly enslaved ancestors though common, is always difficult. It is impossible to become numb to the repeated abuses and horrors of slavery. Every apologist and lost cause advocate can not fathom how this trauma has been passed down generation-to-generation, and how hard each subsequent generation has had to work to dispel it. For Black women in particular, the laws of slavery planted seeds that are born today in every anti-abortion law. Their bodies were governed by a state-sanctioned and regulated apparatus designed to give White men supremacy over female reproduction. Today, those who attack a woman’s sovereignty over her body, water the seeds of slavery yet again, refusing to let the wounds heal from over 400 years of terrible abuses.
Newlyweds on Bayou Despair.
Chattel slavery’s chief purpose was to produce more free labor. Jackson Bobo would have been quite pleased to learn that Eliza Ann’s enslaved woman was now pregnant. It didn’t matter that he was the father, because there was no law to be held too in respect to the woman or child. They simply had no standing as property, and ownership of Cornelius was his. While it’s not clear how many enslaved people Jackson and Eliza Ann held in 1842, adding more slaves would increase their wealth and their chances of success as planters. The Mississippi Black Codes, a set of laws that governed how planters controlled a slave’s life, made it clear a child of a slave, despite the father, was the property of the enslaver.
Cornelius may have gotten his name from an unidentified and unproven sibling of William Kilcrease. In a public family tree I found breadcrumbs around a man named Cornelius Kilcrease, born in Mississippi about 1830, lived in Tennessee and Arkansas, fought as a Confederate and died in Vian, Oklahoma on Cherokee Territory sometime after 1895. He purportedly was a son of William Kilcrease and Jane Thomas. In all records his name is referred to with the initials C.R. and I have not found the original reference to C.R. being Cornelius Kilcrease. This Cornelius is clearly not Cornelius Bobo, born too soon, but he may have been his Uncle.
Land patents and bills of sale reveal that A.J. Bobo and his family crossed the Mississippi river to find their own fortune as farmers in Madison Parish, Louisiana, taking their enslaved with them sometime in 1848. The delta lowlands parish was named after President Madison formed from lands taken from Ouachita and Concordia Parishes. Madison parish was booming with land grants provided by Louisiana homestead patents. The Indian Removal Act of 1830 precipitated a tremendous transfer of land as Indians moved west in unfavorable exchanges of land, known as Choctaw Scrip. From 1830 through 1841, more than 60,000 native peoples were removed in a campaign of ethnic cleansing from lands east of the Mississippi to Oklahoma and further.
A.J. and Eliza Ann’s father-in-law already held a land patent here in Madison Parish near the town of Tallulah on Roundaway Bayou – and it’s possible that it was the very land the newlywed Bobos had gone to work. Eliza Ann’s brother-in-law Charles Booth Clark also held land patents adjoining Elijah’s 107 acres on Roundaway Bayou acquired earlier in 1838.
In 1848, A.J. conveyed his Louisiana land that he owned “north of Red River” in Madison to a man named John T. Cochran for $500. The land was “improved” meaning he and his enslaved people had worked it for several years before. But something strange took place between 1842 and 1848 while Jackson and his enslaved toiled to make cotton bloom in the swamps.
1848 survey map of Madison Parish, Louisiana, highlighting Bobo land in accordance with the later land patent in the sale to John T. Cochran.
Surprisingly, Eliza Ann’s name does not appear on the bill of sale between A.J. and Cochran for the Madison land in ‘48. Spouses were almost always included on bills of sale so they could forfeit or deny any claim on the property before it was sold. The likely reason was that Eliza Ann had died.
Was it yellow fever? Had the scourge also killed the enslaved, maybe Cornelius’s mother? I cannot find any further records for Eliza Ann, no final resting place, nor a probate in Madison Parish records. She vanishes.
The purchaser of Jackson’s lands, John T. Cochran, became an incredibly wealthy planter worth $95K and had 34 slaves in 1860 in the Western District of Madison Parish. An 1885 tax on Cochran’s plantation reveals its location and name as “Avoca Plantation” at the coordinates 17 N 11E (which describes the area A.J. sold to him in 1848) between Tallulah and the Tensas River near the aptly named Bayou Despair.
It’s impossible to know A.J. Bobo’s feelings about the matter, but clearly his plantation failed and his family had paid a dear price. He had to move on. By 1848, A.J. had remarried a woman named Harriet Brooks and had a child in the parish. It’s a mystery as to where Eliza Ann Truly-Bobo is buried or how A.J. met and courted Harriet Brooks but tragedy continued to plague Jackson. I found the following in the Madison Parish, Louisiana Cemetery Archives.
“Located South of the town of Monticello on 579, turn left or East on the Donaldson Road when first discovered a brass fence surrounding it, later in the 1980’s it was disturbed by somebody who almost destroyed it. Turn left at Tensas bridge down a logging road about a mile. The inscription on the solitary headstone reads: This child father was A.J. Bobo and Mother being Brooks Bobo.”
Madison Parish Cemetery Records, The USGenWeb Project, Louisiana Archives.
A.J. sold his stake in the parish and moved his family and slaves further West. By 1849, at the age 33, Jackson Bobo and Harriet Brooks-Bobo had moved to Morehouse Parish, and where after about a year, he was quickly elected Sheriff of the town of Bastrop. A.J. and Brook’s infant son William T. Bobo and Brook’s seventeen year-old sister, Parisade, also lived with them. The value of his farm was $1,500 by the time of the 1850 census. The Bobos also enslaved 4 people at this time; a 26 year-old woman, 13 year-old girl, and two boys, 7 and 8. Very likely, the eldest enslaved boy on the farm was A.J.’s son, Cornelius, born around 1840-1842. Another family joined A.J. in Morehouse Parish – his sister Eliza Foster Bobo-Turpin and brother-in-law Dr. Thomas Turpin moved to Oak Ridge in Morehouse between 1850 and 1860 according to the census. Dr. Turpin became a major planter there with 16 enslaved people working his lands.
Ad for John Bobo’s stable business in Grand Gulf, Port Gibson Reveille, March 2, 1853.
In 1849, A.J. ‘s brother John also acquired 159 acres in Ouachita Parish, Louisiana through the Choctaw Scrip. At Milliken’s Bend, just a few miles from the Roundaway Bayou, John and Charlotte owned and operated a tavern in 1850, but he moved his family back to Grand Gulf before February 1853 when he took over ownership of a livery business (stables) in town. Tragically, not long after, Charlotte died from yellow fever in August. In 1860, John became an overseer in the county.
Absolom H. Bobo Jr., A.J. and John’s older brother, also experienced a wave of loss on the frontier. Ab. Jr and his wife Eliza Mississippi Robinson’s son Absalom lived less than 2 years and died in 1843. Their third son Amos died at age 7 in 1849 and their third Florence died at age 2 in 1850. Ab Jr. died himself in 1855. Eliza Robinson managed the estate but had to sell many of her enslaved. In an 1846 personal inventory, Eliza detailed that she personally owned as much as 523 acres, a negro woman Ellen and her two children Bill and Raney, all conveyed by Agnes Bobo to her, but that wealth had dwindled. In 1860, she lived in Port Gibson with her 16-year-old daughter Amazon and 10-year-old son William. She was worth about $4,000 and her real estate $2,000.
By the 1850s the lives of Absolom and Agnes Bobo’s children were very changed, and thus the lives of their enslaved. A rising sentiment of abolition was shifting perceptions about slavery across the United States, hardening resistance to giving up the “real estate” that gave Anglo settlers an incredible advantage and head start in a physically challenging environment. The application of the Black codes of Mississippi and Louisiana became more important as Anglos found themselves increasingly outnumbered in their own communities, often many times over. A.J. Bobo would become the central figure of the law as it applied to the citizens of Morehouse Parish, numbering over 3,900 people in 1850. And by 1860, the number of inhabitants would nearly triple to 10,350, made up of 3,784 Whites, 4 “free colored” and 6,569 slaves. A.J.’s new status would embroil him in law suits, local disputes, but also give him access to new business ventures.
The Law of Bastrop.
Amidst the turbulent political battles of slavery that preceded the Civil War, according to the Andrew Jackson Bobo became Sheriff in the town of Bastrop, in the northern Louisiana parish of Morehouse. A.J. Bobo was wealthy, worth about $30,000 and with $5300 in his personal estate. He was also a small-operation planter and merchant there as well, in partnership with one Abel Edward Evans, probably in the cotton trade.
Numerous records reveal scintillating details about A.J.’s life and what kind of man he was, including public disputes with his neighbors that led to two well-documented lawsuits. First, to learn more about A.J., it’s worth considering perhaps why he wound up in Bastrop to begin with.
In 1860, The New Orleans Daily Crescent published an account of life in Morehouse Parish in a series called “Louisiana in Slices” that places A.J. Bobo in the center of a thriving cotton frontier town.
“Bastrop, the seat of the rich and growing parish of Morehouse, is twenty-eight miles north of Monroe, and is a very pleasant little town…a flourishing business is done at Bastrop, and the own wears a lively aspect at all time. Its population is about four hundred and fifty, and its principal merchants are Messrs. Bobo & Evans…The Mayor of the town is R. A. Phelps, Esq., and the present officers of the parish are A.J. Bobo, Sheriff…more than forty thousand acres are being cultivated in corn and cotton…The population of the parish is between nine and ten thousand…three-fifths of the population are slaves, and the assessed value of property is about five and a half millions of dollars.”
Bastrop was incorporated February 24, 1852, and the first mayor was a democrat named William Prather. Bastrop had a store, public school, private schools, Methodist, Baptist, Episcopal and Catholic churches, and a Jewish congregation. Nearby Mer Rouge became a town when the railroad was built. 15,000 acres were under cultivation contiguous to the town according to Biographical And Historical Memoirs of Louisiana, Vol. II.
By 1857, A.J. Bobo was elected Sheriff (and a whig) when the state Democrats declared a victory in the parish and published their celebration in the Daily Advocate out of Baton Rouge.
“From Morehouse,” Daily Advocate, 1857, celebrates a Democrat victory in Morehouse the “banner Whig parish.”
The same year, in a case that stunned the nation, Dred Scott v. Sandford (argued 1856 and decided 1857), the Supreme Court ruled that all Blacks in America, free or slave, were not American citizens and had no standing to sue in federal court. The Court also ruled that Congress lacked power to ban slavery in the U.S. territories. The Missouri Compromise became unconstitutional and now slavery (and slaveholders) could expand West. The Republicans were against expansion, but Southern slaveholders (then Democrats and Southern Whigs) were in favor of it. The Whigs were not strictly anti-abolitionist but generally opposed to expansion. The Whig party collapsed as Northern and Southern Whigs split over the issue. Disillusioned democrats like Abraham Lincoln became Whigs of the Northern kind – seeking to keep slavery off the national agenda and as a state issue.
A.J. Bobo was reelected in December 1858. His sheriff duties included tax collection, running the parish prison, and keeping the peace. He also acted as executioner in the case of William Hash who was convicted of murdering a workmate. In 1857, the Parish defaulted on its taxes due to a flood in the previous year and death of the last Assessor. Bobo sought and got relief in 1858, but defaulted again in 1860 to the tune of $8,802. His name was listed with other parish sheriffs from St. Mary, Union, Washington parishes and more in the Daily Advocate.
Why did A.J. Bobo chose to run for sheriff? I speculate that his attempt and failure in Madison Parish may have made the idea of becoming a planter less than attractive to him. His brother Absolom Jr. had been a sheriff. Perhaps though the A.J. and Absolom were radicalized to become lawmen. In 1835, John Murrell’s violent gang of thieves and criminal network stretching from Memphis to Texas, famous for stealing slaves off plantations, was at the center of a widespread panic over an alleged slave revolt in Mississippi. Murrell published a sensational pamphlet alleging a slave uprising in order to sell his own book.
The panic started around July 4th 1835 and lasted through Christmas resulting in the lynching of several White men as co-conspirators, and several dozen Black slaves. The lynchings came in waves at different times and locations around central Mississippi, in Madison and Hinds County adjacent to Claiborne County. So-called “vigilance committees” consisting of White planters and overseers rounded up slaves en masse and interrogated and tortured them. Because the allegations were false, and slaves had no standing to resist it, the torture drove many of them to give false testimonies which further incited the panic. They named names, including White men. Accused White men caught in the crosshairs were no different, casting enemies in the net of doubt. A.J. and Absolom Jr. would have been 20 years at this time, and likely part of that minority group of White men suddenly organized to police and monitor Blacks non-stop for months, Blacks who vastly outnumbered them. Though the panic abated after the lynchings, it left race relations tattered in Mississippi and no doubt made an impression on the Bobo boys.
Besides, sheriffing was good for business. Bastrop made A.J. Bobo’s long-sought after fortune. By 1860 he was worth $5300 personally and his property valued at $30,000 according to the US Census. He also enslaved 7 people, employed two deputy sheriffs, and often leased out enslaved prisoners which on at least one occasion, got him into trouble when he “borrowed” the services of his enslaved prisoners.
In 1860, John H. Callaway sued A.J. Bobo in 1860 in district court. It seems that three enslaved people self-liberated from Callaway’s plantation – one woman and two men – were caught and placed in the Morehouse Parish Jail under Sheriff Bobo’s charge. When Callaway went to claim his property – he could not pay all the costs, only procuring the woman. One of the enslaved was sick and A.J. called a physician who took both men to his own farm. Bobo refused to turn them over to Callaway unless he paid up, which he did months later. In that time, Bobo hired the slaves out, as was his prerogative as Sheriff. Slaves were hired out to cover the cost of imprisoning them and penalize the owner for losing them in the first place. Callaway sued for $500 for the proceeds of the hire-out, and cost of housing the slaves. Bobo lost but appealed to the Supreme Court of Louisiana which voided the judgment and ruled in his favor in November.
“Where a party in the capacity of Sheriff has the custody of slaves, the more fact of his removing them from the Parish Prison, to his own place, will not make him Liable for their hire. He only becomes responsible for their forthcoming and for the value of such services as he might derive from their labor.”
from “Callaway V. Bobo”- Louisiana reports : cases argued and determined in the Supreme Court of Louisiana, 1811 – 1973.
It was not his first trip to New Orleans and the Supreme Court. Earlier in the year in July, Bobo was sued by the Parish’s only newspaper owner and editor, William Prather. Sheriff Bobo had seized Prather’s printing presses, horse and other materials illegally contended Prather. Prather was in debt, but also a Democrat and likely at odds with Bobo. His paper, the Morehouse Advocate, had to suspend operations. Was it political retribution? The materials and press were worth $800 but the Supreme Court of Louisiana ruled that Sheriff Bobo could not take them because his trade “as a printer and editor for means of support, his printing press and materials necessary for the exorcise of his trade are exempt from seizure under.”
In the same year, in the 1860 US census, the Bobo’s are enumerated as follows:
A.J. Bobo, 45
Harriet Bobo, 29
W.T. (William T.) Bobo, 11
R.H. (Robert Hawkins) Bobo, 9
Mary Bobo, 6
A.J. reported on the slave schedule of the 1860 Census that he enslaved 8 people:
Female, 36, Black (very likely Sally Harvey who appears in the 1863 probate)
Male, 26, Black (unknown, possibly Thomas, Sally’s son)
Male, 22, mulatto (possibly Cornelius, my 4x great-grandfather)
Female 20, Black (possibly Emma, my 4x great-grandmother)
Female 16, Black (possibly Mary, Sally’s daughter)
Male 14, Black (possibly Jim, Sally’s son)
Male 9, mulatto (possibly John, Cornelius and Emma’s son)
While not conclusive, the 22 year-old mulatto man’s age matches that of Cornelius’s and his birthdate fits the time period when A.J. Bobo and Eliza Ann Truly would have courted and married.
Could Sally Harvey (likely the 36 year-old Black woman on the slave schedule) been Cornelius’s mother? It’s a possibility, but to me it seems doubtful. Of course, Cornelius would not have been mentioned in Sally Harvey’s “Information Wanted” article if he had died in Texas, but he probably also would have shown up with Sally in the late 60s if he lived, or in John Bobo’s homestead in Texas. More likely, Sally Harvey and her family were purchased by the Bobo’s either in Claiborne County or Morehouse Parish.
The Cooperationist.
So what drove A.J. Bobo to abandon his land holdings, and hustle his family and enslaved family over three hundred miles West to Texas?
Louisiana’s Whigs, of which A.J. was one of them, did not support small government and state’s rights like other southern Whigs being closer to the Northern Whigs views on slavery’s expansion. After years of tensions, John Brown and his gang’s fateful 1859 raid on Harpers Ferry, the 1860 election of Abraham Lincoln to president, fierce arguments in Congress in defense of slavery that led to failed attempts to enshrine slavery in the constitution enraged Southern statesmen. States began to secede. The secession of South Carolina in December of ‘60 was swiftly followed by the secession of Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, and then Louisiana on January 26, 1861. Secession lit the long smoldering embers of Anglo planter-class outrage into full-blown war. After secession, Morehouse Parish formed four military units and began drilling. They knew war with the Union was inevitable. Secessionist government in Louisiana took over the US Mint in New Orleans. President Abraham Lincoln was inaugurated in April and the first battle broke out at Fort Sumter in South Carolina.
“White male Louisianans quickly volunteered for service in the Confederate army. In the first year of the conflict, as many as 25,000 men enlisted, and eventually through a combination of volunteering and conscription, between 50,000 and 60,000 Louisianans would serve in the Confederate army,” according to 64 Parishes.
Back in Port Gibson, Mississippi, at 40 years old, John Bobo and his son Asa enlisted in 1862. John became a private in Company 6, 16th Regiment, Mississippi, but he didn’t serve very long. He committed suicide on the Tennessee front during his first few months of deployment with the Claiborne Rifles. Two years later, John and Charlotte’s son Asa Bobo, now a private in Company G, 15th Regiment, Mississippi was just 16 years old when he was killed at the Battle of Cold Harbor, fifteen miles northeast of Richmond, Virginia.
A.J. Bobo did not enlist in the Confederate Army, he had much to defend in his wealth and position in Bastrop based entirely on the institution of slavery. And he was after all a Southern Whig, and did not provide full-throated support for secession. In fact, A.J. Bobo was what was called a “Co-operationist,” a group of Southerners in slave states who did not support immediate secession from the United States, but instead felt their hand would be better played if all the remaining slave states seceded together en force. They felt independent secession would cause economic ruin. Sheriff Bobo became one of the states’ secession delegates, nominated by planters of Morehouse Parish to attend Louisiana’s Secession Election of January, 1861. In tables of the official vote reported by various New Orleans newspapers like the Picayune, A.J. Bobo’s name is listed with a “C” co-operationist next to it. The Parish’s votes were split with Cooperationists in the minority. Statewide, Secessionists beat out Cooperationists.
1861 Louisiana secession vote by parish, featuring A.J. Bobo casting votes for “cooperationists” of Morehouse Parish.
Morehouse’s planter class may have retained their apprehension overall. In 1863, the parish planters made a resolution expressing concerns about having one-third of their enslaved male negroes impressed by the Confederate Army to fortify Harrisonburg, Louisiana. Though the parish remained a confederate stronghold for several years, hundreds of young White men joined the Louisiana 3rd Infantry of the Confederate Army, Companies B & F in ‘61 and the 12th Louisiana Infantry in ‘62. Waves of recruitment had emptied out the parish. White planters were left with hundreds of slaves, small families, and a lot of fear. They were terrified the people they beat, whipped, bought and sold, raped, pilloried, would murder them. Imagine that. Actually, slaves seizing the opportunity, just picked up and left the plantation in many cases, especially when they learned the United States had adopted Colored Troops to fight the ‘rebs.
Sacher continued to write in 64 Parishes, “The end of slavery was only one of the many striking changes to the home front in Louisiana. The absence of military-age White males, the disruption of the sugar and cotton trade, rampant inflation, lack of credit, and the presence of an occupation army—and some Confederates as well—all contributed to tremendous suffering for the civilian population. For many Louisianans, starvation was a real threat, as armies either seized or destroyed food crops. Some planters, who possessed the means to move, fled to Texas, often taking enslaved people with them.”
Oddly enough, neither A.J. ‘s sons William T. Bobo, nor Robert Hawkins Bobo, who would have been of age, joined the Confederate army. Did he forbid them too? Jackson, Harriet and their sons packed up their horses and wagon, stuffed with confederate cash, and dragged seven enslaved souls with them, one of them, my great-great grandfather John Bobo.
As to the fate of Cornelius and Emma, John’s parents, I do not know and it seems their shades do not want me to know. I count that their time on Earth, despite their toil and troubles was somehow a beautiful brief struggle in its own way because John lived and became free, and I am here.
Part 3.
Juneteenth arrives.
As I documented Cornelius Bobo’s origins, I became deeply torn. Cornelius’s father Andrew Jackson “A.J” / “Jackson” Bobo (1815 – 1863) was the paragon of American white supremacist doctrines such as the false narrative of “the self-made man.” From cradle to grave, my White 5x great-grandfather was entirely dependent on the enslaved labor of my other ancestors, and on the bounty of stolen Native land in Mississippi and Louisiana. His parents Absolom Humphrey Bobo Senior and Agnes Goode-Hawkins-Bobo too were reliant on slave labor to tend their cattle and hogs, hew the landscape plain, tend the cotton fields, and the cooking fires, and probably even to suckle their children. A.J. and his siblings learned the constant lesson that to be successful on the frontier was to subjugate everything around you, the land, the people, to deny your own humanity and that of even your own kin. I’ll be honest, I detested Jackson Bobo and it was further hardened by the knowledge that he was also probably a bully as a sheriff, certainly a rapist, and that his terrible example would also produce a White son who became a murderer on the Texas plain.
After Reconstruction, as A.J.’s widow Harriet tried to rebuild her life in Madisonville, Texas, she only had her sons William “Bill” and Robert to rely on. Her daughter Harriet Ellen was only 2, Molly just 9. The $3000 Confederate dollars her husband had at the time of his death were rendered useless by the collapse of the Confederacy. Her wealth in slaves evaporated in 1865. In June 1864, she made a full probate for her husband and listed her formerly enslaved as property in the inventory. On June 19, 1865, almost to the day, 2,000 Union troops arrived in Galveston, the source of Juneteenth celebration of emancipation. Major General Gordon Granger read out Order No. 3.
At that moment over 250,000 enslaved Blacks in Texas became free. My third great-grandfather John Bobo, living in Navasota, was among them.
By 1867 Jackson’s Anglo son Bill Bobo met and married Martha Barrett the daughter of an innkeeper and dry goods store owner, John Whitten Barrett who also served as a Justice of the Peace in Madisonville. Bill turned to driving cattle but eventually became lawless. He was arrested and often in and out of prison. It was reported that he’d murdered a man named “Wainwright” in McCulloch county in 1873. The governor put up a $300 reward for his arrest but somehow he evaded arrest for almost another decade. He and his wife continued to have children, and in 1879 though it seemed like he was ready to settle down on land he’d applied for in Madison County, Texas. In 1882, the law caught up with him. Bill was arrested for the San Saba murder. He apparently escaped by dressing up as his wife and remained at-large for another 6 years.
William Bobo wanted, Austin Weekly Statesmen, July 3, 1873.
By 1888, Bill had joined a gang of outlaws in Madison which had committed theft, arson, and murder. The townspeople were fed up and settled on some Texas-style vigilante justice. According to biographer and fellow Jackson Bobo descendent, Janet Barrett Walker, a mob hunted down Bill’s compatriots, hung one, shot and killed Bill in front of his mother, while another outlaw escaped.
“Reliable news reaches here from Madison Co., thirty miles west of here, that a mob of 200 or 300 men went to the town of Madisonville yesterday and shot down one Will Bobo on the public square in presence of the sheriff. The mob went from there to the house of one Red Page and took him out and hanged him. Also, shot Alf. Whiting, it is supposed, fatally. Killed one other party, name unknown…”
Family lore says Harriet Bobo tried to put the pieces of Bill’s head back together after being blown off with a shotgun. Bill’s devious life had widowed his wife and four children under 10.
Contrast Bill Bobo’s life with that of his Black nephew John Bobo’s life as a new freeman at about the same time in East Texas. Presumably without parents, possibly self-liberated, he’d changed his name and begun a life in Navasota that was driven, yet honest. In the rough and tumble railroad and river town of Navasota, John was keen to use his new found identity as a citizen. In 1867, just after the war, John was found on the voter registration list. He was married not long after and worked as an expressman earning enough to purchase two lots of land in town, one for him and the other for his son Lee’s family in Camp Canaan. As I have shared in a previous article, “His ownership of his labor and political will was no doubt instrumental in establishing a foothold in the town that would pay off for the Bobo family.”
John Bobo made different choices, despite the pain and suffering his family went through as enslaved people. For John, Juneteenth was like the doors to the promised land being swung wide open. For Bill, it meant that his family’s generational meal-ticket had been yanked away. Looking back at my search for Cornelius Bobo and Emma Brown, I wondered if I could find evidence of the choices their descendants may have made in the genetic record.
Finding Emma Brown’s family.
It occurred to me that I was neglecting Emma Brown. I had been dismissive of her, knowing it would be a challenging task to find details about an enslaved woman with such a common name. Fortunately, the techniques I applied to identifying Cornelius’s mother had given me new hope and a new strategy. Find the genetic FAN Club, note the surnames in the club, then identify where family members may have moved from near-by or adjacent plantations. Accept that you’re going to have to commit to then research every single plantation family member’s individual line (their lives, their holdings, their descendants) paying close attention to spouses and the potential dowry slaves they brought to marriage.
First, I began searching and sorting my grandmother’s paternal DNA matches, looking for clusters with common roots in Mississippi broadly, then narrowed it to Claiborne County, and adjacent counties like Adams and Hinds. I of course began with surnames Bobo, Truly, Booth, and Kilcrease, but expanded that to other prominent plantations nearby. I pushed down the feeling that I was being foolish, looking for a needle in a haystack. After all, Natchez was a notoriously busy slave trading post with dozens of traders and thousands of enslaved people being shuttled through en masse each year. I despaired that Emma could have easily been purchased from one of these traders by A.J. Bobo or his kin, had the child, John, and just as easily been sold away before ever having a place in the record.
I searched for more surnames associated with A.J. Bobo and Eliza Ann Truly’s early life around the Port Gibson-area, from Rocky Springs and Willow Springs to Grand Gulf. One cluster appeared with a familiar surname that I had come across often living here in Maryland, that of Dorsey. The Dorsey name is associated with a very large and prominent White family from Annapolis that were part of Maryland’s earliest history. They were enslavers and their plantations outside Baltimore were in the news here often as historians and descendants grappled with the Dorsey legacy of slavery. However, this cluster of Dorsey descendants in Mississippi I uncovered was Black.
Without knowing how I might be connected to this surname, I searched for Anglo Dorseys living in Claiborne County between 1800 and 1865 and found several. I also found Black DNA matches with Dorsey surname with roots in Claiborne County, and nearby Tensas Parish, Louisiana across the river from Port Gibson. I assumed they were descendants whose ancestors had adopted the surname Dorsey from their former enslavers.
From the public trees on Ancestry.com, among a cluster of Dorsey DNA matches, the name “Osborne Dorsey” stood out as a common ancestor of the matches. Born about 1850 in Port Gibson Mississippi, he was also married to a woman named Laura (1851 – 1928). They had several children, but one son, Lewis, had lived close by them throughout the years, and even with his widowed mother Laura in St. Louis, Missouri at the turn of the century. I jolted right out of my chair when I read Laura’s maiden name on her marriage certificate. It said “Brown.” And it was repeated on her 1928 death certificate.
Death Certificate of Lara/Laura Dorsey nee’ Brown, 1928.
Even more shocking, her parents were William Brown (1820 – 1880) and Betsy Brown (1834 – 1880) was listed and her birthplace as Port Gibson. And there were records for Laura’s parents in Claiborne County that began in 1870 after emancipation. In fact, her mother Betsy lived right next to Osborne and Laura in 1880 according to the census in Port Gibson. Next door was a young woman named Cora Brown, old enough to possibly be Laura’s sibling or first cousin. Laura’s parents’ names are also on her 1928 death certificate as reported by her son Lewis Dorsey. While the age is misreported, that is a common issue on informant death certificates of people born before emancipation. Lewis declared himself to be Laura’s son with his statement on his own social security application.
Naturally, I wondered, could Laura Brown be related to Emma Brown?
I eagerly reached out to one of the matches identified as a Dorsey descendent and shared my research question. We’re related, who do you think is our most common recent shared ancestor? Looking at the strength of our DNA relationship – and the other DNA matches who descend from Laura Brown who triangulate across pedigrees on Thrulines (based on information they claim in their family trees and our genetic relationship), it became clear the common ancestor was likely 5-6 generations back, a 4th or 5th great-grandparent, or 5th or 6th great-grandparents. It aligned well with William and Betsy Brown, Laura’s parents. With this in mind, I was more confident in the possibility that William and Betsy Brown, or both, were Emma Brown’s biological parents, and that my Dorsey DNA match cousin was also descended from William and Betsy, but through another daughter, Laura. The genetic evidence seemed to support the traditional evidence, and frankly, a number of the genealogical standards of proof, a code of minimum tasks and questions genealogists should use in presenting their evidence as credible.
If I had finally found Emma Brown’s family, then Laura was a sister, and at least one of her parents had survived the Civil War!
In phone conversations, my new-found Dorsey-Brown DNA match cousin confirmed that after the war, some of the Dorseys and Browns had moved north to Bolivar County, in the heart of the Mississippi Delta, while some stayed in Port Gibson and the surrounding area. One of Osborne and Laura’s children settled in nearby Hinds County. Through my own research, I have since found that during Reconstruction, more Dorsey descendants settled in the towns of Clarksdale in Coahoma County and Cleveland in Bolivar County, and around the towns of Pace, Alligator, Duncan and Rosedale. Around 1910, Osborne Dorsey and Laura Brown had also settled in Bolivar. Just down the street lived their son Lewis. While I can’t verify it, it is possible Osborne may have been the same “Osborne Dorsey” who was a buffalo soldier between 1880 and 1910, stationed in Kansas and Nebraska. This could explain my inability to find Osborne or Laura on the 1900 census or state censuses for over 20 years, but I will keep searching for firmer evidence.
Dorseys and Browns on Bayou Pierre.
So where did the Dorsey and Brown surnames come from? And would it be possible to find William and Betsy Brown’s enslavers leading to Emma? From my Dorsey cousin, I learned Osborne Dorsey’s parents’ names were Dickerson “Doss” and Lafayette “Ann” Dorsey. They lived in Brandywine Springs about 10 miles southeast of Port Gibson in 1870. While they didn’t have much of a record, I had plenty of oral family history to rely on. So, could I find Dorsey’s perhaps in the records of an Anglo planter with the same surname in the area?
Doss and Ann Dorsey had at least five children and I identified Osborne as the eldest. Doss was born as early as 1825 and Ann was much younger, born in 1842, meaning it was unlikely she was Osborne’s biological mother. I went back to census records in search of other Black Dorsey’s on the plantations of White planters with the surname Dorsey, and looked for connections to the Bobo, Kilcrease plantations. Turns out there were strong connections before and after the Civil War between formerly enslaved and free people around these plantations all living within just a few miles of each other, from Port Gibson to Hermanville to Brandywine and north to Rocky Springs.
In 1870 in Pattona near Hermanville (where Osborne and Laura are found at their earliest on the record), lived other Black Dorseys including Solomon Dorsey (b. 1804) and Rhoda Dorsey (b. 1820). Astonished, I found Solomon and Rhoda were living in the same household as the widow of my 6th great-grandfather William Kilcrease Sr., Jane.
Jane “Jenny” Kilcrease was 78 years old and had been widowed since 1845, living with her daughter Lydia and her children.
Recall William Kilcrease Sr. had fathered an enslaved woman that I theorized was in Eliza Ann’s dowry to A.J. Bobo. As I shared in earlier parts of this account, it is my belief that A.J. sexually assaulted this woman producing Cornelius Bobo. William Kilcrease was the uncle of A.J. Bobo’s first wife, Eliza Ann Truly-Clark. Eliza Ann died between 1842 and 1848 and A.J. Bobo remarried and moved to Morehouse Parish in Louisiana.
I don’t believe it was a coincidence that Solomon and Rhoda wound up in the home of A.J. Bobo’s former family. Either Solomon and Rhoda (or one of them) had a prior relationship with the Kilcrease family, most likely as William and Jennie Kilcrease’s slaves. Solomon was 66 and Rhoda was 50 in 1870. Rhoda was of age to possibly consider her as Cornelius’s mother. Could it be the same Rhoda in the Bobo family who was listed in Ab Bobo Snr.’s 1833 will and later in his daughter Harriet Bobo-Rossman’s 1846 schedule of property?
I don’t think we’ll ever know, enslaved people sometimes had several masters in their lifetime. It’s not even clear if Solomon and Rhoda Dorsey were married. And there’s no additional connections I can find between Solomon, Rhoda, and Dickerson Dorsey for the moment.
Right next door in 1870, in the same area of plantations is a Black family unit with the surname Brown. Another nearby Black family unit in Pattona included both Dorsey and Browns. Pattona was a plantation according to the historian McCaleb-Headley. Clearly, the formerly enslaved people of the Dorsey, Brown, Kilcrease (Booth – Truly – Clark), and Bobo families were part of a large interconnected community with families living on plantations before and after the Civil War.
In the Port Gibson area, the Anglo planter families with the surname Dorsey originate from one Dr. Samuel Dorsey. Dr. Samuel Dorsey was born in 1768 in Anne Arundel, Maryland to parents Nathan Dorsey and Sophia Owings, part of the prominent Dorsey family of Maryland. After serving as a surgeon on a Spanish Outpost in Louisiana, he then moved to Concordia Parish on land that became part of Tensas Parish. Because of flooding he moved his family across the Mississippi to Port Gibson and founded Elk Ridge plantation.
“…Owing to overflows, etc., he [Dr. Samuel Dorsey] soon after removed to Port Gibson, Miss., and named his plantation there Elk Ridge, after the old Dorsey homestead in Maryland… His last years were devoted to planting, etc.”
Biographical and Historical Memoirs of Louisiana; Chicago; The Goodspeed Publishing Company, 1892.
According to Claiborne Court Records, Dr. Samuel Dorsey bought 556 acres on the South side of the North Fork of Bayou Pierre near the Clarks and Booths, and an additional 200 acres on the North side of Bayou Pierre, in 1815. Records vary, but he may have had as many as 16 children. In 1840, according to the census, Dorsey had about 40 slaves with 32 employed in the field. Samuel’s slaves were never fully inventoried in his 1849 probate record so I could find no connection among them to Dickerson Dorsey, Solomon or Rhoda Dorsey. I also could not find connections in the probate inventories of Samuel’s sons, who were also enslavers. Yet I do have DNA matches with Dorsey roots in Tensas Parish – perhaps connecting me to Samuel Dorsey’s earliest enslaved people there.
I remain convinced there is a connection to Osborne Dorsey or his parents to Samuel Dorsey or his children, I just need to research this lead more completely, perhaps in-person in the Mississippi and Louisiana state archives. However, I did learn that the Dorseys were also connected by marriage to the Kilcrease family. Phoebe Francis Dorsey, born 1831, perhaps a granddaughter of Dr. Samuel Dorsey married David Daniel Kilcrease in 1852. David was none other than William Kilcrease’s son. David joined the Confederate army and died sometime after 1862.
Turning to the Browns, I learned a family of planters with the surname Brown also lived along Bayou Pierre near the Dorsey, Kilcrease and Bobo families. Thomas W. Brown (1814 – 1903) married Ann Regan, both of Claiborne County. By 1860 the Browns kept in human bondage an enormous number of people – 90 in all – on the Brown plantation known as “Oak Ridge,” north of Rocky Springs. The old townsite is located at mile marker 54.8 on the Natchez Trace.
The Browns were founders of Rocky Springs Methodist Church in 1836. The Regans who married into the Browns, were also founders. I was not surprised to learn that Bobos were closely tied to Rocky Springs. Jackson’s brother Absolom Bobo Jr., his wife Eliza, and two of his children are buried in Rocky Springs Church cemetery. They clearly were church members and perhaps founders themselves. The enslaved on the Brown and Bobo plantation clearly had occasion to intermix across plantations and at the church, just as their enslavers did. Here in this hallowed place, the Bobo and Brown names finally connected.
Did A.J. Bobo and Eliza Ann Truly’s wedding take place here in 1842 or in a similar church nearby? Was Cornelius’s mother, the daughter of William Kilcrease, waiting on Eliza Ann here?
I am eager to search the Rocky Spring Methodist Church records to further understand the early members’ lives. Were there any colored members on the rolls as was the case in many churches at the time? It could be quite challenging to find and explore these questions in church records as Rocky Springs became a ghost town after Reconstruction. If the records survived, it would be a miracle.
Rocky Springs Methodist Church, Rocky Springs, Mississippi, founded in 1837. Early founders included the Bobo and Brown family.
In 1863 during the Civil War, General Grant used Rocky Springs Church as a base on the way to Vicksburg. Over 50,000 troops foraged the land around Bayou Pierre. They quickly confiscated and used up all the community’s reserves of food and stock. When the army advanced North, many of the enslaved left with the Union so by 1863, Blacks in the area, including Thomas W. Brown’s 90 slaves, and dozens of former slaves on plantations held by the Kilcrease, Clark, Booth, and Bobo families were effectively freed. Those that left became contraband. I believe this is how some of the formerly enslaved Dorsey and Brown family arrived eventually in Bolivar County, in the heart of the Mississippi delta.
Conclusion – the sunrise of awareness.
I now have a foundation to explore the Browns, and who knows, I may yet find Emma or more of her siblings, and hopefully descendants. I have a pretty good idea where to look. The Browns are also associated with another Port Gibson family during Reconstruction with the surname Jennings. Another line to study! And the Kilcrease and Dorsey lines hold yet further intrigues. There’s more to Jackson Bobo’s time as a refugee. I may yet discover in some dusty Texas tome what happened to John Bobo’s parents.
In many ways, conducting family history is really a study of the choices we make in life, and how they impact people and future generations. Those choices show up in the record. They become the record. Understanding first that our ancestors made choices – to marry, buy or sell property, move to another town, have a child, to self-liberate – and the historical conditions when those choices were made, tell us something about our own inner fortitude, and what we ourselves are capable of. I have also learned some of our ancestors were also capable of brutality, and inhumane and immoral perspectives on life, while others were capable of bravery, compassion and self-determination.
Port Gibson in Claiborne County after Reconstruction remained in the vice grip of Jim Crow until the 1960s when the Port Gibson Movement occurred. Led by long-standing community members, blacks joined the NAACP and registered to vote after several coordinated campaigns. The historically-black Alcorn Agricultural and Mechanical College was not an ally – its President actually blocked movement involvement by faculty and students. Over 2600 registered African American voters increased to their electoral majority by 1966. White resistance was encrusted and violent, but merchant boycotts broke the back of the systemic racism in town.
“African Americans challenged entrenched white power—through voter registration, boycotts, aggressive armed self-defense, and the persistent, determined insistence that whites treat them as equals—and the ways whites clung to power and privilege… By 1975 blacks won twenty-three of thirty-two county elective offices, including a majority on the board of supervisors and every countywide position except sheriff.”
Mississippi Encyclopedia
Generational trauma, epigenetic trauma, passed down year-after-year is quite real and pervasive in the African American community today. But so is generational progress. Knowing our own history, who and what we’re made of, is a powerful salve to heal the ever-lasting soul. In that light, finding Cornelius Bobo and Emma Brown always meant having to find A.J. Bobo and developing a deep understanding of antebellum life and history, from the plantations of the Natchez Trace to the frontier towns of Civil War Texas. It always meant that I would have to accept that though our ancestors made their choices, we are also the ones who must interpret them. Today, the interpretations of our history is volatile and still under the threat of White Supremacy, as evidenced by attacks on African American history in public schools, particularly in the South, politicization of critical race theory, and the recent decision to overturn Affirmative Action, led in part by Justice Clarence Thomas, a Black man descended from slaves.
Clarence Thomas once shared with his staff at the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission that he managed in the early 80s, “God only knows where I would be today” if not for the legal principles of equal employment opportunity measures such as affirmative action that are “critical to minorities and women in this society.”
Justice Thomas would do well to study epigenetic trauma further in his own genealogy. We all would do well to understand further the enslavers and enslaved in our families, and how their choices have impacted the opportunities of generations of descendants to live free and equal.
As for me, I have chosen to no longer be haunted by A.J. Bobo. The light and the dark reality of history go hand-in-hand. Though I do not yet know all the details of Cornelius and Emma’s life and death, I have come to realize that they were never really shadows. They were more like the refraction of light across a growing sunrise of awareness. Cornelius and Emma were like rays of dawn, reflecting a path forward for John Bobo, and for me.
I know that the greatest detail about all of these ancestors lives, Jackson, Cornelius, and Emma, became a source of goodness, that their choices brought John Bobo into the world, and that against the odds, he survived.
The Freedmen’s Bureau Records. National Museum of African American History and Culture.
Torget, Andrew J. Seeds of Empire: Cotton, Slavery, and the Transformation of the Texas Borderlands, 1800-1850. University of North Carolina Press, 2015.
Grear, Charles D., editor. The Fate of Texas: The Civil War and the Lone Star State. University of Arkansas Press, 2008.
Howell, Kenneth Wayne, Ed., Still the Arena of Civil War: Violence and Turmoil in Reconstruction Texas, 1865-1874. United States, University of North Texas Press, 2012.
Nugent, Nell Marion, “Cavaliers and Pioneers”, Abstracts of Land Patents and Grants, Vol. 3, 1695- 1732, p. 38-39. From THE BOBO NEWSLETTER (3 September 1988 Issue). 1704 Virginia Quit Rent Rolls.
“The Virginia Magazine of History”, Volume 39, page 69.
“Last Will and Testament of Sally Bobo”, Spartanburg County Will Book A, p. 79-81
Holcomb, Brent. “Spartanburg County Will Abstracts”, 1983. p. 77.
McCall-Tidwell and Allied Families”, Ancestry.com. https://www.ancestry.com/search/collections/11964/. Accessed June 2023. Original data: McCall, Ettie Tidwell,. McCall-Tidwell and allied families. Atlanta, Ga.: Published by the author, 1931.
The Natchez Court Records, 1767-1805. United States, Genealogical Publishing Company, 2009.
Headley, Katy. Claiborne County, Mississippi: The Promised Land. United States, Claiborne County Historical Society, 1976.
“Port Gibson: Its Unparalleled Site–Its Bridges–Churches–Its Arcadian Shrubbery–and Noble-Hearted Citizens.” New Orleans Daily Delta, Vidalia, La., Feb. 1855.
The Southern Business Directory AND General Commercial Advertiser, By the Rev. John P Campbell, Vol 1, Publ 1854. Transcribed by Anna Parks for GenealogyTrails.com, accessed June 2023.
Dew, Charles B. “The Long Lost Returns: The Candidates and Their Totals in Louisiana’s Secession Election.” Louisiana History: The Journal of the Louisiana Historical Association, vol. 10, no. 4, 1969, pp. 353–69. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/4231094. Accessed June 2023.
As I drove through southern Georgia on the way to Savannah, I noticed fields of soybeans and corn. I was startled by other fields blooming with large flowers reminiscent of hibiscus, white and pink. Of course, being a Northerner, I had never seen blooming cotton. I pulled the rental car over and got out to stand on the edge of a field and catch the setting sun. I was on my way home after two remarkable days in Statesboro, Georgia, home of the Riggs and Parrish clan, meeting new family, kin, and exploring a new found heritage.
Cotton fields outside Statesboro, Georgia.
My visit began with a stop at the Statesboro public library, and the Brannen room, where I met Lillian Wingate, a talented young genealogist and employee of the library. She introduced me to my cousin, Tonya Donaldson, a firecracker of a woman, who was quick to interrogate and discuss our relationship and talk shop. Tonya and I are both descended from Jacob Nevils Snr. (1769 – 1862). His daughter Harriet was my 4th great grandmother, born enslaved and kept enslaved by Jacob’s daughter and her half-sister Dicey for most of her life, until emancipation. Tonya is descended from Dicey Donaldson-Mikel-Riggs. See The Riggs Family (Part 2): Harriet Riggs – the Matriarch.
Well, we shook hands when we met, but we hugged hard we I departed. Through the many well-organized files and shelves, Lillian, Tonya, and I discussed life in old Bulloch County, the wealth of records at the library, and the uncanny journey that led me there. As I have written previously, I’ve only recently discovered my Riggs Parrish lineage through traditional and genetic genealogy. Sharing my story led to an invitation by Dr. Alvin Jackson, Board Chair of the Willow Hill Heritage and Renaissance Center, to the Willow Hill Festival, and to speak at a joint event with Telfair Museums as part of their Legacy of Slavery in Savannah Initiative.
But first, Lillian had something to share. She had come across Struggle and Progress – Tonya tipped her off – and curious, looked into the life of my 4x great grandmother Harriet Riggs. She emailed me before my trip asking a provocative question, how had I arrived at Harriet’s death date of 1874? She had intriguing information to share…
Comfortable in her busy office, surrounded by stacks of books and files, Lillian opened the minutes of the Lott’s Creek Primitive Baptist Church and shared several notations made in the minutes about one Harriet Riggs and Sister D. (Dicy) Donaldson. This interesting information shows that Harriet was introduced to the church by her half-sister and enslaver Dicey (in 1843).
Harriet Riggs, 1843, received at Lower Lott’s Primitive Baptist Church.
However, less than a year later, by a complaint made by Dicey, Harriet was excommunicated in 1844. Jacob Nevils Sr., Dicey and Harriet’s father, and a member of Lower Lott’s is also mentioned on several instances as struggling with drinking and being “in passion” which likely refers to infidelity. It’s no surprise Jacob was forgiven – often – for his transgressions. More importantly, the minutes reveal Harriet was also re-admitted in 1882, after her suspected death date of 1874. And in 1884, she “called for a letter” to leave the church, necessary to be admitted to another in good standing, according to Ms. Wingate.
Harriet Riggs, 1844, excommunicated at Lower Lott’s Primitive Baptist Church.
Of course enslaved blacks were in many cases members of the church of their enslavers in antebellum America. Ansel Parrish (1789-1865), son of Henry Jackson Parrish (1740 – 1800), enslaver of my 4th great grandparents, Cain Parrish and Isabella Donaldson, was also a deacon at Lower Lott’s. Not incidentally, genetic genealogy also reveals Ansel Parrish was also Cain’s half-brother. Ansel was my 3rd great-grandmother Audelia’s last enslaver. Audelia married Harriet Rigg’s son Daniel Riggs. See The Riggs Family (Part 1): New Kin.
This remarkable information placed Harriet Riggs’ death after 1884 and opened a whole host of questions. When did she die exactly? What church did she move to? Would she be in that church’s minutes or cemetary? Some of Harriet’s children moved from Bulloch County south to Irwin County to the town of Fitzgerald, and further out of town to Blitch. This was another breadcrumb to finding her final resting place, and it shed light on the complex interrelationship between enslaved and enslaver, family, friend and foe.
One critical question I have is why would Harriet return to Lower Lott’s in 1882, almost twenty years after emancipation, when her son-in-law, Elder Washington Hodges (who married her daughter Eliza Saturday Riggs) had with other black community members, founded a separate black primitive baptist church, Old Bethel Primitive Baptist Church, in 1882? Perhaps it was just too far to travel too on a weekly basis in her advanced age, certainly, the first black church in the area founded during Reconstruction, Banks Creek Primitive Baptist Church, was a long journey from Lott’s Creek too. Perhaps Harriet considered Lower Lott’s her family church, after all, she had black and white family members there.
Eliza Saturday Riggs-Hodges (1857 – 1910), daughter of Harriet Riggs. There is no surviving image of Harriet, but I imagine Eliza looked like her mother.
I shared these new findings, thanks to Lillian Wingate’s talents, with an audience of “cousins by the dozens” at Willow Hill in a presentation, “Many Nice Things – Discovering a Georgia Lineage” that weekend, as part of Archival Silence: Closing Gaps in African American History in Bulloch County, Georgia. The presentation captures my journey of discovery and explores the wider diaspora around Willow Hill – indeed, former teachers and students and their families have spread far and wide beginning with the great migration of blacks North in the late 1800s and early 1900s. In my case, five brothers, the sons of Daniel Riggs and Audelia Parrish, moved from Statesboro, GA , 750 miles north to Chester, Pennsylvania. See: The Riggs Family (Part 3): Finding Fathers.
Many Nice Things: Discovering a Georgia Lineage
“Many Nice Things: Discovering a Georgia Lineage” by Joel R. Johnson, part of Archival Silence: Closing Gaps in African American Research, September 2022.
Highlights of the weekend include meeting Dr. Alvin Jackson and his family, board members at Willow Hill, as well as listening to other presentations, including one by Rev. Bill Parrish, a cousin, who presented his remarkable story of a line of Parrish family that migrated to Cincinnati, Ohio and there attended and led the preservation of the historic Eckstein School which served the African American community from 1915 – 1958. Read more about the Eckstein School.
Rev. Bill Parrish discusses Eckstein SchoolRev. Steve Taylor discusses Vilet LesterDr. Brenda Hagan Malik with Joel R. JohnsonThe Archival Silence Team
The Archival Silence presenters and Team, Sept. 2022.
We also heard from Rev. Steve Taylor, who is a descendant of the Lester and Everett families, some of the earliest white settlers of Bulloch County. His Lester ancestor, James Lester, enslaved Vilet Lester. Vilet wrote one of the few known letters, by an enslaved woman, during the era of slavery. She wrote to her former enslaver in North Carolina, seeking information about her daughter and family. It is a heartbreaking letter, but one that demonstrates the agency that enslaved people took when the opportunity presented itself. It’s not clear that she actually wrote the letter, she may have just dictated it, but it is a masterclass in enslaved-enslaver diplomacy, in that it created the rare opportunity to see her daughter purchased by James Lester.
Vilet’s letter is archived in the Special Collections of the Duke University Archives, but a copy is available to read at the Statesboro Public Library in the genealogy collection. Steve Taylor is searching for descendants of Vilet Lester and actively researching to learn whether Vilet’s wish to be reunited with her daughter ever took place.
The weekend was a family reunion in many ways – I also met with another Riggs Parrish family historian I was in correspondence with, Dr. Brenda Hagan Malik, a Holland Riggs descendant. Her own research into the historic funeral homes owned by the Riggs family in two locations shines a light on black entrepreneurship during Jim Crow.
Willow Hill School, early 1900s, (enhanced) Georgia State Archives.
While I was jubilant to finally visit Bulloch County, I was haunted by the words of Bill Parrish’s brother who shared with the audience his own deep realization, that he was “visiting the plantation.” This is a out-of-date term that present generations of African Americans aren’t really familiar with, but I heard it often growing up because my Mother’s family, despite growing up in urban Cleveland, was from Greenville, SC, the place of their enslavement. It was a term for visiting family in the homeplace, and seeing kin, usually from the South, who everyone understood was only one or two generations away from enslavement.
“Visiting the plantation.” The words are loaded like a gun, ready to go off, simultaneously protecting and simultaneously harming. The words announce that one is undertaking a journey home to family from the North to the South that will produce a reckoning with the past. And there can be dread in knowing you will be exposed to the trauma of enslavement.
Fortunately, the diaspora of the Willow Hill, overflows with examples of our people overcoming adversity through Jim Crow to present day. The school was a beacon, a fortress, a launching pad, for so many, black and white. It wasn’t lost on me that there were fully four or five generations of family attending the Willow Hill festival that weekend. As I walked the halls and visited the one-room school house on the site, Bennet Grove, I felt a gentle spirit on my shoulder. Dr. Nkenge Jackson calls it, “the Willow Hill spirit.” And I certainly felt the spirit chase away the dread, as a growing feeling of peace washed over me.
Instead of “visiting the plantation,” I came to realize that I was “visiting the school,” and I am forever grateful, that the ancestors revealed this lineage to me.
I’m delighted and honored to announce that I’ve been invited to speak at the Willow Hill Heritage and Renaissance Center (WHHRC) on September 3rd, in Portal, GA, northwest of Savannah.
“Archival Silence: Closing Gaps in African American History in Bulloch County, GA” is day-long event, led by Dr. Alvin Jackson, historian, Board President and co-founder of WHHRC, in association with the Telfair Museum in Savannah.
Telfair Museums explore Savannah’s place in “our collective American past through art, history, and architecture,” including the historiography of the Owens-Thomas House, and the enslaved in Savannah, among other sites.
My own history is deeply intertwined with the WHHRC, as I’ve discovered in the last several years. The founders of Willow Hill include my 3rd great-grandparents Daniel Riggs and Audelia Parrish-Riggs, and 3rd great uncle Isaac Riggs, and aunt Harriet Lanier-Riggs. I will present on my journey to “close the archival gap” and discoveries that led me to discover my Riggs Parrish heritage, through archival research, oral history study, and DNA research.
Students of SE Georgia genealogy and history, won’t want to miss this event! It is free and open to the public.
Abraham “A.B.” Riggs (1816 -1886) listed 14 enslaved souls in the 1860 census, among them my 4th great-grandmother Harriet Riggs (1820 -1874) and her family. Harriet and her children were enslaved by Abraham Riggs from 1849 – 1865, prior to that by Dicey Nevils-Donaldson-Mikell (as dower slaves) and formerly belonging to Jacob Nevils, my white 5th great-grandfather. Abraham Rigg’s enslaved labor increased by marriage by 9 since the 1850 slave census. Dr. Alvin Jackson, a historian, and director of the Bulloch county-based Willow Hill School Heritage & Renaissance Center, has shared that Harriet may have had another son named “William.” William Riggs does not show up in records connected to Harriet, but a recently added collection of documents to Ancestry reveals an enslaved man named William labored for the Confederacy against his will in Savannah – loaned out by Abraham Riggs to support white supremacy.
I’ve shared previously, Abraham Riggs was a large planter in Statesboro, Georgia, about 55 miles west of Savannah. in 1860, Abraham Riggs land was worth $400, but his personal estate was worth, $13,564 (wealth tied up in slaves that would be over $450,000 today). In 1870 after the war, his personal estate was just $150.
In January 1863, Abraham Lincoln issued and signed the Emancipation Proclamation declaring “all persons held as slaves,” within the rebellious states “are, and henceforward, shall be free.” The proclamation was anticipated in advance by the black community (free and enslaved) as Lincoln made the promise in the fall over a hundred days earlier and word had spread it was coming. As ambitious as the proclamation was, it meant nothing to the Confederates except further provocation to battle to keep the institution of slavery, and their wealth.
Ever the profiteer of misery, Abraham Riggs sent one of his enslaved, William Riggs, to labor for the Confederacy in December 1863, just under a year after the proclamation. William worked for just over 3 months. Abraham earned about $80 for William’s toil. Abraham’s recognizable signature can be found on the payroll listing the enslaved and amounts he was paid.
“We, the Subscribers, acknowledge to have received of Captain John McGrady, C.S. the sums set opposite our names respectively, being in full for the service of our Slaves at Savannah, GA during the months of Aug. Sept. Oct. Nov. Dec. 1863 having signed duplicate receipts”
US, Confederate Payrolls for Enslaved Labor
US, Confederate Payrolls for Enslaved Labor, source: Ancestry.com.
Throughout the Civil War, Savannah was well-fortified by Confederate forces. Fort McAllister lay along the Ogeechee River to the South and guarded entry from the South through the Ossabaw area. To the North of the city, Fort Jackson protected just a few miles upstream on the Savannah River. However, the Union army was a constant and ever-present threat. Since 1862, Union forces occupied Fort Pulaski in Tybee just 18 miles south on the Savannah River. The Commander of the South was Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard, infamous for leading the attack on Fort Sumter that started the war in 1861. He approved the evacuation of Savannah when General Sherman’s fateful march arrived with 62,000 Union soldiers. Several naval battles took place between raiders and ironside vessels in the rivers and seas around Savannah.
Confederate President Jefferson Davis toured Savannah in October 1863 and surely admired the fortifications that stolen labor created to buttress white supremacy. He couldn’t realize that a little more than a year later, Fort McAllister would fall ahead of Sherman’s siege of Savannah.
What was life like for William while he was in Savannah those short three and a half months? First, Savannah was a porous city, where Confederates, enslaved blacks, free blacks, Irish and German immigrants, intermixed relatively freely. Union spies traveled through Georgia’s largest port where cotton was exported throughout the war. In fact, Savannah exported over $18 million dollars of cotton in 1860, nearly half a billion in today’s dollars. Rice, lumber, indigo were other common exports. Savannah’s population was about 23K with about 7.5K enslaved souls in 1860 but the number swelled throughout the war with refugees, enslaved forcibly brought into the city to dig trenches and battlements, and of course soldiers. William was in all likelihood, a fish-out-of-water in the city where urban enslaved understood how to navigate the customs, laws, and city life. Blacks worked on riverboats, hotels, grocers, with most at the railyards where the Central Railroad or Savannah, Albany, and Gulf Railroad intersected.
Perhaps William took spiritual refuge in the church? The First African Baptist Church in Savannah pre-dated emancipation and was constituted in 1777. The oldest black church in North America was home to free blacks and enslaved, and even whites attended sermons by black pastors. There is evidence that the First African Baptist Church was also a stop on the Underground Railroad.
After the war, Abraham Riggs returned to his plantation in Bulloch County where he eventually signed a Reconstruction Oath to the United States in August 1867 in order to participate in a vote to send delegates to the Georgia Constitutional Convention. In all 33 African Americans attended and 137 whites as delegates. At the desk of the Freedmen’s Bureau, Riggs signed contracts with his formerly enslaved to pay them for the labor on his farms. Eventually, the formerly enslaved Riggs became landowners themselves.
What happened to William? It is unclear whether William returned to the Riggs plantation or slipped away to freedom. Or perhaps he died there among the hundreds of enslaved who became sick and ill. His service lasted three months and twelve days, until mid-March, according to the payroll. William Riggs can not be found in the record afterward. We don’t know how old he was when he went to Savannah, nor if he was buried by family. William is a ghost, a cipher in payroll account, and yet, we knew that he was likely loved and missed by the 14 enslaved souls on Abraham Rigg’s plantation. He was lost, but had a life, even if it was a miserable one.
Harriet’s grandson William Henry Riggs was born in 1868 to Daniel Riggs and Audelia Parrish-Riggs. “Willie” Riggs may have been named for the man who labored against his will in Savannah in defense of slavery. But what a difference a generation makes. My great-great-granduncle William Henry Riggs graduated from Morehouse College and went on to teach young blacks during Reconstruction.
Sources.
“US, Confederate Payrolls for Enslaved Labor.” Ancestry.com, accessed June 2022.
“The Riggs Family (Part 2): Harriet Riggs – the Matriarch.” StruggleandProgress.com, accessed June 2022.
“Do you want me to search for your father? I think we can find him, together,” I told Dad. He paused, a long while.
It had taken me several years to feel competent and confident to ask Dad that question. Since the early aughts, I had been building my skills as an amateur genealogist and family historian of the Johnson – Bobo family, my paternal line. The question of my grandfather’s identity is the source of a many decades-old gulf between my father, his sisters, and mother, and now deceased stepfather. They all love each other dearly, and that’s both a source of joy, but also part of the divide.
My father Richard B. Johnson was born in Chester, Pennslvania in 1947. He grew up there and attended Wilberforce College in Ohio before being drafted into the army and sent to Vietnam. He left behind a wife and young son and that marriage ended before he could return. He remarried, adopting a son, and had three more children with my mother Carol Mays Johnson (b. 1941 – d. 1999).
The fact is my Dad’s biological father was unknown to him but was also a very public secret. While he was certain that at least one or more of his sisters knew the identity of his father, that his mother and step-father knew, no one would divulge it for fear of causing pain. To who? To everyone, to him, but especially my grandmother. Even my father had only ever asked his mother once. Grandmom said it was a long time ago and difficult to recall, so Dad was rebuffed with half-answers and half-remembrances and told to let sleeping dogs lie.
Clues, however, came in fleeting conversation and memories over the years. In the many genealogy discoveries I made about my father’s maternal line (the Johnson and Bobo family), I quietly and consistently blew on the embers of his desire to know until it became a flame.
Two summers ago while the family was at our annual vacation in Chincoteague, while we sat around the beach house, I shared with him his High School Yearbook. The pictures triggered many fond memories. After many conversations, like a veil lifting, Dad recalled being told once not to play with a certain kid on the playground when he was just a boy. It may have been because the boy was his half-brother, and his father was “no good.” After a long silence, Dad recalled the boy’s name was Jimmy Hall, and he was close in age. We searched the yearbook. Jimmy and my Dad may have played on the same High School baseball team.
Richard Johnson 4th from the left, kneeling. Signature from Dave Krause. “Ricky, Good luck to a smooth guy.” Chester High School Yearbook, 1963.
Maybe something truly terrible happened to my Grandmother when she was 18 years old? I had come to believe that they were all just too young and not ready. The question has been dormant some seventy-five years, waiting for people to get old or die so the secret could die with them. Aware the facts could be difficult and painful, but less interested in the how than the who, I believe the truth is healing, no matter how you come by it. By adopting the role of family historian, my generation was coming to a crossroads. Would we also take responsibility for not knowing too? Would we accept the burden, the trauma? The secret itself had become a malignant force, and it was spreading.
To even talk about unraveling the mystery caused my father to choke up, which the grizzled Vietnam-vet and hardened former-civil rights activist rarely did, but he said, “Son, yes, let’s do it.”
The Riggs Brothers Come to Chester.
By the late winter of 2018, I had Ancestry DNA tests gathered from my father, myself, and my grandmother to identify and separate family lines at the genetic level. This was namely for my own work, it’s easy to tell which line a DNA match is on if you have older family members test. But I could apply it to this research question too. By sorting the thousands of DNA cousins who matched my father but not my grandmother, a large group of matches on Ancestry revealed themselves. They all had deep roots in Bulloch County, Georgia. These paternal cousins were the Riggs, Parrish, Hall, and Love, families by surname. Several family trees posted by these DNA cousins led back to a family matriarch named Harriet Riggs (b. 1820 – 1874). I spent several months researching them. Fortunately, they were already well-documented. This work on the early Riggs in Georgia informed The Riggs Family (part 1): New Kin and The Riggs Family (part 2): Harriet Riggs the Matriarch of this series. I’ve focused the next chapter of this series around finding my grandfather’s identity.
I couldn’t help myself and so got started without much of a research plan. With some basic info in hand, I searched for Riggs in Chester through US Census Records and quickly identified four of Harriet’s grandsons living in Chester with their families. I even identified other surnames from Bulloch County in Chester. In the Great Migration, many Bulloch families had come North, including the Riggs. They included William Henry Riggs, Thomas Jefferson Riggs, Nathaniel Riggs, and Solomon H. Riggs. Each family had migrated around 1920. They were all the children of Daniel and Audelia Riggs. Now I had a big lead and I would need to thoroughly research each family. Developing a plan, I used the FAN method (researching all known “friends, family, and known associated”) of the Riggs. I intended to use Ancestry, FamilySearch, and archives, public and private info.
Outside the census records, the first major document I found was the obituary of William Henry Riggs which showed that he attended Morehouse College, taught in Fitzgerald, GA, and later in Chester. I would come to learn that he also taught at The Willow Hill School in Statesboro. Began during Reconstruction, it was the first black school in the county according to Dr. Alvin Jackson, the foremost scholar on the black history of Statesboro and a founder of The Willow Hill Heritage & Renaissance Center, a preservation society dedicated to the school’s history. Dr. Jackson knew the Riggs story well and shared that Daniel Rigg’s store in Statesboro was right across the street from the Willow Hill School.
Obituary of William H. Riggs, Chester Times, January 1963.
Willie worked at the store because he didn’t want to return to the field after attending Morehouse College in Atlanta, according to an interview conducted with his sister Rosa Riggs several years ago when she was 100 years old. I later learned Willie would have seen first hand how the white people had treated his uncle Isaac Riggs, who was brutally beaten by a white mob for having the audacity to educate the area’s black children. It’s clear now these four brothers went North to escape racial violence and find new economic opportunities. Willie’s obituary included the names of his kin which further helped me uncover and track the lives of the four Riggs families in Chester in the early 1900s. I was on my way to identifying my father’s Riggs line in Chester. But which line of the four brothers was it? It was time to buckle down and dig.
Which brother?
Daniel Samuel Riggs (b. 1842 – d. 1895) and Audelia “Delia” Parrish (b.1858 – d. 1935) had twelve children.
Nathaniel (b. 1865 -d. 1946)
William Henry (b. 1868 – d. 1963)
James R. (b. 1871 – d. 1953)
Agnes (b. 1872 – d. 1956)
Martha (b. 1876 -?)
Solomon H. (b. 1878 – d. 1952)
Emma (b. 1879 – ?)
Benjamin (b. 1883 – d. 1917)
Rose (b. 1890 – ?)
Pearl R. (b. 1892 – d. 1972)
Thomas Jefferson (b. 1894 – d. 1962)
Maude (b. 1895 – ?)
Nathaniel, William, Solomon and Thomas went to Chester between 1900 and 1920. While today, Chester Pennsylvania is little known, at the turn of the 20th century it was a booming industrial port on the banks of the Delaware River. For at least a half a century before that it was the one-time seat of government for Pennsylvania before it transferred to Philadelphia, and it was well known for it ship-building and garment factories and Quaker citizens. Chester was booming in the early 1900s, producing hundreds of the largest iron vessels and steamships in the Sun Ship Yards alongside steelmakers Penn Steel, and paperworks, Scott paper. Chester became home to the first public art gallery in the Eastern US, the Deshong Museum, and a Ford Motorworks factory.
The African American community was large and swelled during Reconstruction with blacks from Maryland, Virginia, and further south. It became a center of black life and culture and the country’s burgeoning black elite stopped often there to preach, sing, and entertain. Stimulated by World War I, the population swelled between 1900 and 1920 from 38,000 to 58,000 with newly created jobs. The population peaked at about 66,000 in the mid-50s and since then has been in steady decline. Sadly, the city has been in serious decline these last 70 years as industry dwindled and went off-shore, and whites moved to the suburbs. In the shadow of Philadelphia, without adequate resources, without support from the State, Chester suffers.
In 1888, Nathaniel Riggs (b. 1865 – d. 1946) married Anna Moore (b.1870 – d. 1941) in Screven County, Georgia. Census records show they lived in Statesboro, Georgia until 1900 then moved to adjacent Irwin County. At this time, they had their first and only daughter Harriet “Hattie” in 1890. Their first and only son Jesse Riggs was born on August 7th, 1908 in Fitzgerald, GA. By 1920, they had moved to Rahway, NJ (Hattie Riggs married Oscar Hippert there). Nathaniel and Anna Riggs can be found in the census living in Chester, PA between 1920 and 1925. In 1936, they sold their house to their son Jesse. Nathaniel was a railroad worker and lived a long time in Chester.
Obituary of Nathaniel Riggs, Chester Times, October 1946.
In 1903, Solomon H. Riggs (b. 1878 – d. 1952), married Mary Tucker in Irwin County, Georgia. Census records show they lived in Statesboro, Georgia. By 1920, Solomon and Mary were living in Chester, Pennsylvania. Solomon was a builder, working on the Roxy Theater, and several stores in Chester. He worked in several factories in Chester, including Penn Steel and Scott Paper. Solomon died in Atlantic City, NJ. It’s unclear if Mary Tucker is in fact Mentoria, his wife, or if she is a second wife. Solomon and Mentoria did not have any children.
Obituary of Solomon Riggs. Chester Times, May 1852.
Like his brothers, William “Willie” Henry Riggs Snr. (b. 1868 – d. 1863) got married in Irwin County, Georgia in 1906 to Lula Whitfield (b. 1873 – ?). All three of their documented children were born in Georgia before the family arrived in Chester by 1920.
Daisy b. 1896 – d. 1947
William H. Jr. 1903 – ?
Willamina “Willie Mae” b. 1911 – ?
Willie Sr. didn’t teach in Chester, his occupation was listed as “Carpenter” in the 1940 census. By the time Willie Sr. passed in 1963, Willie Jr. was his last surviving child and living in New York according to his obituary. Willie Jr. married Cora Fleming in New York in 1930. His sister Daisy was married twice and died in Chester.
The last of Daniel’s sons who moved to Chester was Thomas Jefferson Riggs (b. 1894 – d. 1962). Thomas married Laura B. Gaffrey (b. 1898 – d. 1945) in Irwin County in 1916. By 1919, their family too was living in Chester. Thomas and Laura had five children.
William Riggs III b. 1916 – ?
Willie Mae b. 1917 – ?
Rosalee b. 1919 – d. 1946
Lillian Rebecca b. 1919 – d. 1989
Thelma b. 1922 -?
William III and Willie Mae were born in Georgia, the remaining three girls were born in Chester. Thomas was a laborer in one of Chester’s many steel mills for more than twenty years.
source. Obituary of Thomas Jefferson Riggs, February 1962.
So what evidence can we use to determine which line my grandfather is on?
Clue 1. – We Are Riggs Parrish People
Through pedigree triangulation on Ancestry, and using a documented paper trail, I concluded that Daniel Riggs and Audelia Parrish were my father’s 2nd great-grandparents. An examination of several Ancestry DNA matches (second, third, and fourth cousins) matched with other family tree info and public records, shows that Daniel and Audelia were the most recent common ancestors(MRCA) these matches shared. These matches are the descendants of Thomas Riggs or their siblings (but not Solomon, Willie Jr., or Nathaniel Riggs so far).
Pedigree triangulation on Ancestry ThruLines, Ancestry.com.
Clue 2. – Not Solomon
We can probably eliminate the line of Solomon Riggs – he and his wife had no documented children.
Clue 3. – Not Thomas
We can eliminate Thomas Jefferson Rigg’s line. A recent DNA match of a well-documented 4th cousin who descends from Thomas Jefferson Riggs shows we are related through great-great-granduncle and aunt thus we are not on the same line.
Clue 4. – Moore DNA Reveals Which Riggs Brother
Turns out, my father and I match several descendants of the mother and father of the wife of Nathaniel Riggs, Anna Moore (b. 1870 – d. 1941). Jackpot!
Two of my DNA cousins descend directly from Anna Moore’s mother Harriet Kent. Recall, Nathaniel Riggs and Anna Moore had two children, Jesse, and Harriet “Hattie.” Could Jesse or Harriet be one of my father’s grandparents? Seems increasingly likely.
Let’s dive into Anna Moore’s own line for a moment.
I first learned of Anna Moore’s mother Harriet when her name appeared on the death certificate of Anna Riggs as “Harriet Kent.” The name of her father “William Moore,” was listed, along with a birthplace Dover, Georgia.
Anna Riggs, nee’ Moore, death certificate, Ancestry.com.
The death certificate states Anna Moore had been living in Chester for 20 years at the time of her death. Harriet Kent had a death certificate registered in 1930 in Dover, Screven County, Georgia that provided more detail. Harriet Kent was born 1848 in Emanuel County, Georgia (close to Statesboro and adjacent to Bulloch and Screven Counties), and lived in Dover for at least 50 years. She was 82 when she passed, a widower, and her husband’s name was “Aaron Kent”. From this document, I gleaned that “Kent” is a married name and not her maiden at all. Her parents were not named.
Harriet Kent Humphries death certificate, Ancestry.com.
Harriet Kent’s death certificate led me to uncover that she had at least one other husband or partner, Peter J. Humphries (b. 1851 – d. 1890). Harriet had at least four children with Peter. The 1880 census lists the family.
Peter J. Humphries, age 17
Harriet Humphries, age 25
Anna, age 9
Frank, age 7
Miles, age 5
Amy, age 3
Laura, 11 months
However, Anna Moore’s death certificate lists “William Moore” as her father. On the 1870 US Census, a “William Moore”, black, age 18, can be found living in a boarding house in Dover, Screven County, working as a railroad hand. The name and age fit making this William a likely candidate.
Further DNA research in Screven and Emanuel counties shows I am related to several white Moore descendants (5th-6th cousins) that lived in Emanuel, Georgia since at least the late 1700s. It’s likely “William Moore” was enslaved and had a white Moore ancestor (a 5th or 6th great-common ancestor).
So there are at least two DNA connections to Emanuel County and Screven County, to the Moore family and descendants of Anna Moore’s mother Harriet (two half-cousin relationships).
Clue 5. – Enter The Davis Family
While researching Thomas Jefferson Riggs’ family, I came across his child Rosalee Riggs (b. 1919 – d. 1949) and her spouse Thomas Davis (b. 1915 – ?). I happened upon a family tree in Ancestry for the Davis family. Because I was researching the friends, family, and acquaintances (or the F.A.N. Method), I immediately started to explore the Davis family and dug into the connection. Little did I know the twists and turns would weave a thread to some surprising revelations.
I won’t go into the details, but the rabbit hole of Rosalee Riggs led me to new cousins but no answers. So I turned to the family of Thomas Davis. Thomas had three siblings, all born in Chester, their parents were born in Chatham, in Pittsylvania County in southern Virginia. Thomas Davis’s oldest sibling, his sister, Alice Faye Davis (b. 1911 – d. 1983), had conflicting or little information on her husband but the public profile happened to have pictures of her and her son. Alice looked vaguely familiar, deep smile, high cheekbones, dimples for days, but it was the picture of her son, George Davis (b. 1927 – d. 1986) that took my breath away. He looked so much like my father that I simply froze. I couldn’t move. I had to force myself to breathe.
George Davis Hall Sr., Davis Family Tree, Ancestry.com.
I knew I had found something significant. Examining George Davis’s records, I learned he listed his father’s name as John Hall on his own marriage certificate to Carrie Badgley (b. 1929 – d.2016) in March 1946 when he was just 18. However, there was no marriage certificate between Alice Faye Davis and John Hall. In fact, Alice, 19, was single in the 1930 US census with a 2-year-old son. George, it appeared, was something of a rolling stone. He was married at age 18 in 1946, and then three more times in his life, fathering several children with three different women. He had his first child when he was just 15 years old with Gladys Harris (b.1927 – d. 1975), also 15. He had no children with Carrie, but when he settled down in the third marriage to Alice Geraldine Parker (b.1928 – d.1988), he had at least 6 more children by my count.
My gut told me there was a connection, but I could not puzzle it out. The timeline fit, but who was John Hall, and how the heck could he have been a Riggs? Why did this guy look like my dad? My grandmother and George Davis were contemporaries in 1946 Chester, just a year apart in age. The information was incomplete, but I had to share the intriguing picture and what I had with my father.
Of course, upon seeing the photo, Dad was as shocked as I was at the resemblance and had many more questions. He was now, feeling driven to get answers. When my father saw his sister not too long after I shared the picture he resolved to ask her if she recognized the name.
Who knows how it feels to withhold something so precious to someone for so long, what the burden might be, the rationalizations, the fear, the pain? Whatever demons my aunt had to face, she met. Whatever decision my aunt had to make, she made.
“George Hall! Your father’s name is George Hall,” she exclaimed before my father could even utter a word.
From Clues to Evidence
Clue 6. – Davis DNA Matches
None of the Davis descendants have tested with Ancestry. My sole contact in that family did not appear interested in exploring the theory or testing, so I began to look among my DNA matches for connections to Alice Faye Davis’s parents using Ancestry and Genetic Affairs’ Autocluster tool.
Jackpot (again)! I soon found a cluster of several matches with common ancestors on Alice Davis’s maternal line with the Davis surnames in Chatham, Pittsylvania County in Virginia about 4 – 5 generations back. Pedigree triangulation on Thrulines on Ancestry also identified a distant cousin on the same Davis line as Faye Davis, George’s mother. I could now connect the dots on my pedigree chart.
Pedigree triangulation on Ancestry ThruLines, Ancestry.com.
Recall the story about Jimmy Hall, the boy my father was warned away from, his “half-brother?” James Davis is the name of one of the documented sons of George Davis in the same public family tree I found.
Without a DNA test of another descendant of George Davis, I could not definitively say George Davis was my biological grandfather. I did make contact with descendants of Hattie Riggs, the first child of Nathaniel Riggs and Anna Moore. At that stage, the clues were fast becoming evidence…hearsay, distant Davis DNA relationships… A preponderance of evidence connected my father to Alice Faye Davis, George Davis, and pointed to George Davis’s father as being a Riggs.
Will George’s father please stand up?
My hypothesis at that point was that Jesse Riggs (son of Nathaniel Riggs and Anna Moore) was the father of George Davis Hall, unknown or unrecognized to him, and George Davis was my biological grandfather.
Obituary of Jess Riggs, Chester Delaware County Times, June 1952.
Jesse Riggs was the only documented son of Nathaniel and Anna Moore (recall clue 4, we have both Riggs and Moore DNA). We’ve eliminated the other Riggs brothers’ lines in Chester (clue 2 and 3). So did Jesse Riggs have a relationship with Alice Faye Davis (clue 6), which resulted in George Davis’s birth in 1927? Probably.
Could “John Hall” have been a pseudonym for Jesse Riggs or just an adopted father? Did George Davis really know his biological father’s true identity?
The Riggs and Davis family would later be connected by marriage when Alice’s brother Thomas married Rosalee Riggsafter Alice and Jesse’s speculated tryst. Jesse and Alice were likely in the same circle as teens (Alice was 17 years old when she had George).
While there were a couple of John Hall’s living in Chester in 1927, I can find no record of a John Hall in a relationship with Alice Faye Davis, and I’ve become a pretty good sleuth of this particular period in Chester. Hall is a Riggs family name, but not on Daniel and Audelia Rigg’s line. Though it can be misinterpreted, the DNA doesn’t lie. It just wouldn’t make sense that John Hall was George’s father (AND the undocumented son of Anna Moore and Nathaniel Riggs).
Go for it.
In April 2021, my father texted me a picture of an envelope. The elegant cursive handwriting revealed it was addressed to the Department of Health, Division of Vital Records in Pennsylvania. My enthusiastic response – “Go for it!”
But we were both skeptical. Pennsylvania law allows birth parents to redact the names of birth parents. The only birth certificate my father carried for 75 years was a “Notification of Birth Registration” that listed his adopted father, Garland H. Johnson (b.1925 – d. 2011), and his mother.
Birth records of adopted children in Pennsylvania were sealed to protect the privacy rights of birth parents (my father was adopted by his stepfather), but we didn’t know the law had changed in 2017.
A few days ago I got another text from my dad.
“It’s official, George Davis was my biological father.”
The accompanying picture was a noncertified copy of the original birth record listing my father’s two parents – both 18.
“Parent” George Davis, Richard Barry Bobo. Non-certified Copy Birth Certificate, State of Pennsylvania.
My father shared that it was the “ultimate 75th birthday present.” I told him, now we have to find the record that connects George Davis to Jesse Riggs.
More time.
As I write this, my grandmother is 94 years old, and her life, vast, beautiful, tragic, and interesting in its own way is sunsetting. She did what she was put on this Earth to do. My fatherRichard is now a great-grandfather. How will this new knowledge and insight about his father impact the rest of his life and that of his children? He has said not knowing the identity of his biological father was never an impediment, he had a loving adopted father, but not knowing is still trauma. Unlike his mother, he has more time left to heal it. That’s what I wanted for him from this project, for all of us. More time to heal.
My father is a Riggs, a Davis, a Bobo, and a Johnson. He has been a soldier and recipient of the Bronze Star, law student, husband, teacher, carpenter, educator, civil rights investigator, and school board member. He has six children, each with graduate education, 17 grandchildren, and 2 great-great-grandchildren.
It was my father who kindled my passion for genealogy. Before the internet, he roamed the stacks of the National Archives in the 1980s with my mother, and his yellowed notes in beautiful cursive his own mother, a teacher, drilled into him, was the starting point for my journey. Of course, fathers aren’t perfect beings, no one is, but he always encouraged us to leave no stone unturned, to keep digging and pushing against the status quo, and to never let sleeping dogs lie.
Sources.
“1963, Chester High School Yearbook.” Chester High School, Chester, Pennsylvania.
“The Riggs Family (Part 1): New Kin.” StruggleandProgress.com, accessed May 2021.
“The Riggs Family (Part 2): Harriet Riggs – the Matriarch.” StruggleandProgress.com, accessed May 2021.
Riggs, Anna, nee’ Moore. Death certificate. Ancestry.com, accessed May 2021.
Humphries, Harriet Kent. Death certificate. Ancestry.com, accessed May 2021.
Obituary of Solomon Riggs. Delaware County Daily Times, May 1952.
Obituary of Thomas Jefferson Riggs. Delaware County Daily Times, Chester, Pennsylvania, February 13, 1962.
Obituary of Nathaniel Riggs. Delaware County Daily Times, October 5, 1946.
Obituary of Jess Riggs. Delaware County Times, June 21, 1972.
Davis, George, and Bobo, Richard Barry. “Parent.” Non-certified Copy Birth Certificate, State of Pennsylvania.
John Brown, THE John-Brown-goes-marching-on-John Brown, is one of the reasons I got into documenting my family history. I am a sometimes writer and nearly fifteen years ago I wanted to write a play about John Brown. I was in love with his wild story, and the team of free and enslaved comrades that fought alongside him in his daring raid on Harpers Ferry to free enslaved people in 1859. As you probably know, Brown’s freedom fighting was one of the last sparks to ignite the Civil War. But after many attempts, outlines, and false starts I just couldn’t tell the story. I zeroed in on Emperor Shields Green, said to be the son of a prince, formerly enslaved, one-time valet to Frederick Douglass. Another compelling story, but nope, I had writer’s block. Finally, I realized it was my own family’s story I wanted to tell during this pivotal moment in history and so I dived into genealogy headfirst.
I tell that story at the end of my time on the Flying Carpet Theatre Company’s latest podcast, “Family History Discussion Series,” which centers around the exploration of family history and genealogy. The podcast includes talks with “amateur genealogists” with the goal of discovering common themes that unite different groups of people. I joined my fellow Swarthmore College alum and FCTC Artistic Director Adam Koplan and Pete Candler for episode 4 last week.
Why is the Atlanta-based theater company investigating family history? Because the FCTC team are exploring “conversations about oppressors, bystanders, victims, the hidden, the brash, the loud, the hard work, the racism, the brave exodus, and everything else that makes up the our American patchwork quilt…Because it’s all in our family stories…”
Show description:
“In the fourth episode, series hosts Adam and Pete interview Joel Johnson. Joel Johnson is a Black writer and veteran ad agency executive. He has worked in agencies in New York, Chicago, and London and currently co-owns Admirable Devil, an agency in Washington, DC. He’s researched his family lineage since 2005 and recently began telling the stories of his ancestors on his blog, Struggle and Progress. He is primarily interested in researching the lives of his free and enslaved Black ancestors prior to and throughout emancipation, and during the period known as Reconstruction. His research has identified his biological European ancestors as well. Joel is a graduate of Swarthmore College, Goldsmiths College in London, and Northwestern University.”