Posted in Ancestor of the Week, Coni Dubois

Ancestor of the Week: The Sheriff Who Left a Paper Trail a Mile Long — Zachariah Green Trent (c. 1801–1860)

He was the law in Hancock County, Tennessee. He laid out roads, settled disputes, collected taxes, and owned 830 acres of East Tennessee farmland. He married three times, fathered children with each wife, and when he died around August of 1860, they buried him in the family cemetery in Sneedville.

This is my 4th great-grandfather — Zachariah Green Trent. And if Matilda, his third wife, is the mystery of my mother’s line, Zachariah is the anchor. He left a paper trail a mile long, and today I’m walking every inch of it with you.

The chain, so you can follow it home: me → my mom, Nancy Lee Gilbert → my grandma Mildred Marie Scheetz → Viola Beatrice Nickerson → Nancy Pratt → Caroline Trent Pratt → Matilda, Zachariah’s wife. Every step mother to daughter, and Zachariah stands right there beside Matilda at the far end of it.

The Offices He Held

Zachariah wasn’t just a farmer who happened to live in Tennessee. The records show a man his community trusted with real authority.

Justice of the Peace — appointed June 11, 1832, in Hawkins County, Tennessee. In frontier Tennessee, a justice of the peace wasn’t a ceremonial title. He married people, settled small disputes, witnessed documents, and kept the peace in a county that was still rough around the edges. When your neighbors pick you for that job, it says something about who you were.

1829 newspaper clipping showing Zachariah Trent appointed justice of the peace for Hawkins County, Tennessee.
Zachariah Trent appointed justice of the peace for Hawkins County — National Banner and Nashville Whig, November 7, 1829, p. 3. (Newspapers.com clipping.)

3rd Sheriff of Hancock County, Tennessee — serving 1849–1850. The third man to hold that office in a young county. He would have served papers, collected taxes, kept order, and ridden out to wherever he was needed. Hancock County in 1849 was mountain country — Sneedville, the Clinch River valley, farms carved out of ridges. Being sheriff there meant knowing every hollow and every family.

Now, I want to address something directly, because that’s how we do this. There’s a family story that Zachariah was killed in the line of duty as sheriff. I love that story — what genealogist wouldn’t? But his sheriff service ended in 1850, and he died around 1860. Ten years later. I have no record, no newspaper account, no county document confirming how he died. Until I find proof, it stays out of the fact column. It might even be a different ancestor entirely. Facts only. Always the facts.

The Land

On April 30, 1830, Zachariah acquired 830 acres from Samuel Nicholson. Then on March 18, 1833, he acquired additional land from William D. Trent and Alexander Trent.

Eight hundred and thirty acres. Let that number sit with you for a minute. In 1830 East Tennessee, that wasn’t a farm — that was an estate. That was a man building something meant to last, meant to pass down.

He shows up in the Hawkins County court minutes too: on juries laying out roads in 1831, 1836, and 1837. Present at court in August 1831. Involved in a writ for money owed in July 1838. On the 1836 Hawkins County tax list and the early Tennessee tax records. This is a man woven into the civic fabric of his county — not passing through, but planted.

U.S. federal census non-population schedule, 1850–1880, entry for Zachariah G. Trent

The Census Trail — Every Decade I Can Find Him

Here’s Zachariah walking through the federal census, decade by decade:

1830 — Hawkins, Tennessee. Seven people in the household. He’s a young man building a family. (NARA Series M19, Roll 178, Page 83.)

1830 U.S. federal census, Hawkins County, Tennessee, listing the household of Zachariah Green Trent

1840 — Knox, Kentucky. Just two in the household this time. The family was in transition — and if you’ve followed my Brick Wall Wednesday on Matilda, you know these were complicated years. (NARA M704, Roll 116, Page 315.)

1840 U.S. federal census, Knox County, Kentucky, listing the household of Zachariah Green Trent

1850 — Sneedville, Hancock County, Tennessee. He’s here with Matilda now, listed as his wife. (Subdivision 32, Roll M432_881, Page 25B.)

1860 — Sneedville, Hancock County, Tennessee. Age 59, farming, with Matilda. And here’s the part that makes every genealogist smile: the enumerator mangled the surname as “Z G Lunt.” Lunt! If you’re searching for this family and can’t find them, try the mangled versions. Enumerators, bless them.

1860 U.S. federal census, Sneedville, Hancock County, Tennessee, showing Zachariah G. Trent enumerated as "Z G Lunt"

That 1860 census is the last time anyone sees Zachariah on paper. He died about August 1860, in Sneedville. He’s buried in the Trent Cemetery there — Find a Grave Memorial #130592796.

About His Name

You’ll find him as Zachary, Zachariah, and Zechariah Green Trent — and in the records themselves as Zachari, Little Zack, Zak, Zackie, “Z G Trent,” even “Zackasi Trent” and “Fackariah Trent.” I’m mentioning it once so you can find him when you search. That’s just genealogy — names shift like sand, and his is no exception.

Three Marriages

Zachariah was married three times that I can document. Here’s each one, honestly laid out:

1. Naomi Taylor Greene — married 1818, Hawkins, Tennessee. Naomi was born January 7, 1801, in Rowan County, North Carolina, daughter of Jeremiah and Anne (Hartley) Greene. Her maiden name was Taylor — she’d married a Greene first, and was known as Naomi Greene when she married Zachariah. She died December 26, 1877, in Morristown, Hamblen County, Tennessee, and she’s buried in the old city cemetery there.

Seven children I can document: Nancy Trent, John Hicks Trent, James William Trent, Stokely Donaldson Trent, Manila Trent, Cinthea Greene Trent, and Mary Jane Trent. Manila married Jefferson Baker, and their descendants carry this line forward.

2. Myra Singleton — “partners” about 1832, Hawkins, Tennessee. I want to be careful here: the record doesn’t call this a marriage. It says “partners.” Myra (also recorded as Mira, Miriah, Miry) Singleton was born between 1812 and 1814 in Lee Valley, Hawkins, Tennessee. Their children carried “Singleton” as a middle name: Frances “Frankie” Singleton Trent and Lucinda Singleton Trent. There may have been a third girl, Rhoda. Myra later appears as Myra Lawson — she married a Lawson after Zachariah. The records give me “partners, 1832,” and that’s what I’m reporting.

3. Matilda — wife by the 1850 census. My Matilda. She appears as Zachariah’s wife in the 1850 and 1860 censuses. I have no confirmed marriage date for them. Four children I can document: Sarah Jane Trent, Caroline M. Trent, Nancy Trent, and Daniel Lewis Trent.

Now here’s a confusion I want to flag for fellow researchers, because it will trip you up: Zachariah had two daughters named Nancy — one by Naomi (the elder) and one by Matilda. As descendant Caroline Tassey wrote to me: “the two Nancy Trents has caused much confusion.” She’s right. When you’re researching this family, always check which Nancy.

Caroline’s Obituary — The Daughter Who Carried the Line

Caroline Trent Pratt — Zachariah and Matilda’s daughter, my 3rd great-grandmother — got a beautiful sendoff in The Argos Reflector on November 13, 1919. Born June 12, 1845, in Hancock County, Tennessee, she married William Harrison Pratt in 1865, and the paper called their marriage “one long happy and harmonious experience.” Ten children, twenty-nine grandchildren living, four great-grandchildren. She died November 5, 1919, at 74, a faithful member of the Church of Christ at Francesville, Indiana. Through Caroline, Zachariah’s blood runs straight down to my mother, my grandmother, and me.

Her death notice ran in the Weekly Republican the same week (November 13, 1919, p. 5) — and it spells her name “Tratt.” Another variant for the search files. It notes she died Wednesday at 2:45 at her daughter Mrs. Jesse Tomlinson’s home in Argos, suffered a stroke the Saturday before, and her body was shipped Friday to Francesville, Indiana for funeral services.

William Pratt, Caroline Trent Pratt, and Orville Nickerson standing outside a house, early 1900s.
William Pratt and Caroline Trent Pratt with Orville Nickerson (center). Caroline was Zachariah and Matilda’s daughter — my 3rd great-grandmother. (Family photo, identifications handwritten on the back.)

Pictured left to right: William Harrison Pratt (my 3rd great-grandfather), Orville Nickerson (center), and Caroline Trent Pratt (my 3rd great-grandmother, Zachariah and Matilda’s daughter). The identifications are handwritten on the back of the original — it’s a real photo postcard from the early 1900s, the kind families mailed to each other.

The DNA Backs the Paper

My files carry a research note: “3 Trent lines and their DNA.” A Family Tree DNA Trent Project participant descends from William D. Trent Sr. and Charity Burton — and also from Zachariah G. Trent and Naomi Greene. The Y-DNA results show the William D. Trent line matches the Trent lines of Campbell County, Virginia, including the lines of Alexander Trent.

Zachariah was the son of Alexander Trent, who served in the War of 1812 — and Zachariah was Alexander’s heir, with a War Bounty Land Warrant in his name as Alexander’s heir. The Trent Y-DNA results fall into three distinct groups, and the East Tennessee/Campbell County group — which includes Zachariah’s line — all match each other.

What that means: the DNA supports the paper trail connecting Zachariah to Alexander Trent to the Campbell County, Virginia Trents. The paternal side is solid.

A Same-Name Warning

Fellow researchers, heed this one. In my files there are two Confederate Civil War records for a “Zachariah Trent” — a private in Capt. Patteson’s Company, Virginia Heavy Artillery (Campbell Battery), enlisted March 5, 1862.

That is not our Zachariah. He died about August 1860 — two years before that young man enlisted. This is a different, younger Zachariah Trent, and it’s exactly the kind of same-name trap that can send your research sideways for months. As Caroline Tassey warned me: “there were two Zachariah Trents at that time.” Always check the dates. Always.

What I Still Don’t Know (The Honest List)

How he died. The killed-in-service story is unproven — no record, no newspaper, nothing. It stays out of the fact column until I find proof.

Whether the Native ancestry claim holds. Family tradition says Zachariah was reported to have Native ancestry, and the Bolin line connects to Saponi tradition. But it’s a family/research claim, not a proven fact. I’m still digging.

His exact birth year and place. Between 1801 and 1803, Grayson County, Virginia — though one source says Hawkins, Tennessee. Census ages wander, as we all know.

Why He Matters

Zachariah Green Trent is my 4th great-grandfather, and he’s the reason the Trent line has a paper trail at all. Matilda may be the mystery — but Zachariah is the proof that the family was real, rooted, and respected. A justice of the peace. A sheriff. A landowner. A man whose name shows up in court minutes, tax lists, land deeds, and census rolls across three decades.

And through his daughter Caroline — my 3rd great-grandmother, who married William Harrison Pratt and carried the family from Tennessee to Kentucky to Indiana — his blood runs straight down to my mother, my grandmother, and me.

He left a paper trail a mile long. I just walked it with you.


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Sources

  • Justice of the Peace appointment, June 11, 1832, Hawkins County, Tennessee
  • Justice of the Peace appointment — National Banner and Nashville Whig (Nashville, TN), November 7, 1829, p. 3 (Newspapers.com)
  • 3rd Sheriff of Hancock County, Tennessee, 1849–1850
  • Land acquisition: 830 acres from Samuel Nicholson, April 30, 1830; additional land from William D. Trent and Alexander Trent, March 18, 1833
  • Hawkins County court minutes: road juries (1831, 1836, 1837); present at court (August 1831); writ for money owed (July 1838)
  • 1836 Hawkins County tax list; Tennessee early tax records
  • U.S. Federal Census: 1830 Hawkins, TN (NARA M19, Roll 178, Page 83); 1840 Knox, KY (NARA M704, Roll 116, Page 315); 1850 Hancock, TN (Roll M432_881, Page 25B); 1860 Hancock, TN (NARA M653, Page 462 — enumerated as “Z G Lunt”)
  • US Selected Federal Census Non-Population Schedules, 1850–1880 — Zachariah G. Trent
  • War Bounty Land Warrant — Zachariah Green Trent, heir of Alexander Trent (War of 1812)
  • Find a Grave Memorial #130592796 — Zachariah Green Trent, Trent Cemetery, Sneedville, Hancock County, Tennessee
  • Tennessee State Marriages, 1780–2002 — Caroline M. Trent marriage record
  • Obituary of Mrs. Caroline Pratt, The Argos Reflector, November 13, 1919, p. 1 (courtesy Marshall County Historical Society, Plymouth, Indiana — researched by Judy McCollough, Historical Archive Manager, April 2003)
  • Death notice of Mrs. Caroline Tratt, Weekly Republican, November 13, 1919, p. 5 (courtesy Marshall County Historical Society, Plymouth, Indiana)
  • Caroline Trent Pratt death certificate, Marshall County, Indiana, Certificate #307 (father “Zachari Trent”)
  • Family Tree DNA Trent Project — Y-DNA results, East Tennessee/Campbell County group
  • Brick Wall Wednesday #1: Matilda — Who Was She Before She Married Zachariah Green Trent? (conidubois.com) — companion piece on Matilda
  • Personal correspondence: Douglas Trent to Rhonda Yamauchi, June 2003; Caroline Tassey to Coni Dubois, May and September 2013

Who do you want to see next? Tell me below.

© 2026 Ever Widening Circle Research by Coni Dubois LLC. All rights reserved.

Posted in Coni Dubois

The Will That Spoke: Amos A. Gilbert Sr. (1778–1843)

The Will That Spoke: Amos A. Gilbert Sr. (1778–1843)

On the 28th of February, 1843, an old man in Vevay, Indiana, sat down and wrote his will. He had been married five times. He had children by more than one wife. And when it came time to divide what he owned, he did something that still speaks, nearly two hundred years later.

His name was Amos A. Gilbert Sr. — my 5th great-grandfather, on my mother’s Gilbert line.

The will was probated on the 1st of May, 1843, in Switzerland County, Indiana — recorded in Probate Book A, page 213. And this is what it says.

He named his wife Agnes as his executrix. To Agnes he left all his personal property and real estate for as long as she remained his widow — for her maintenance and that of his two youngest children. If she remarried, she would take one-third of the real estate instead.

And then came the line that tells you everything about the man: to his two sons, Elijah Gilbert and Amos Gilbert, Jr., and to his daughter Amety McMillen, wife of John McMillen — one dollar each. “They having already received their proportion.”

One dollar. Not out of cruelty — out of fairness. The older children had already been given their share while he was living. The will was making sure the widow and the little ones were provided for. That is a father settling his accounts honestly.

A year and a half later, on the 20th of September, 1844, the widow Agnes Gilbert came back to the courthouse. She relinquished her claims under the will and claimed her dower rights instead — witnessed by John Dumont. Even in grief, she knew her rights under the law, and she exercised them.

Five marriages

My research shows Amos married five times: Letitia Canby, Sarah Jane “Sally” Magruder, Betsy Silvers, Nancy Henry, and finally Agnes — whose maiden name I have not yet proven, and I won’t guess at it.

What the records prove outright: an Amos Gilbert married Betsy Silvers on the 17th of May, 1827, in Switzerland County, Indiana. And Sarah “Sally” Magruder — born the 2nd of May, 1789, daughter of Revolutionary soldier Norman Bruce McGruder — married an Amos Gilbert; the old pension papers name their grandchildren Amity MacMillen and Elijah Gilbert, living in Switzerland County in 1844.

Amos himself was born the 1st of September, 1778, in Otis, Berkshire County, Massachusetts, son of Elisha and Submit (Glazier) Gilbart — so the Massachusetts town vital records say.

What I’m still proving

I do this work on the rule of “proven and proven again,” so here is my honest account: I have not yet proven which Amos Gilbert married Letitia Canby in Wrightstown, Pennsylvania, in 1803 — there was another Amos Gilbert with a wife Letitia living in Ohio in 1850, and I will not hand my ancestor’s marriage to the wrong man. Agnes’s maiden name is still unknown. And the maternity of Nancy Welsh, formerly Nancy Gilbert, named among the youngest children in the will, is not yet settled. These are open questions, and I’ll tell you when they’re closed.

The records

More of my Gilbert research: https://conidubois.com/tag/gilbert/

© 2026 Ever Widening Circle Research by Coni Dubois LLC. All rights reserved.

Posted in Coni Dubois

Come Step Inside — The Blog, the Book Nook, and Everything We’re Building

Well, come on in and look around — things have changed around here, and I’m so proud I could burst.

If you’ve visited my blog lately, you’ve seen it: a whole new look. Warm cream pages, beautiful serif lettering, terracotta links, bronze headings — and my Grove banner across the top, the luminous family tree with the glowing ancestor medallions hanging from its branches. That tree is my heart. It holds my memorials everywhere — here, in my Heirloomie app, in the Book Nook. Every shared link now opens with pretty art instead of a blank box. I even earned a “CSS Sorcerer” badge from WordPress for the custom styling. You’re a developer now, it said. Basically. 😄

The Book Nook has a brand-new front door.

You know my Book Nook — my cozy little corner of the internet. It has a new entrance now: a rustic gypsy caravan tucked in the woods, candles everywhere, little strings of lights, and a wooden sign that says “Click to enter.” Step through the doorway and you’re inside, with ten doors to wander through:

🔥 The Welcome Fire — pull up a chair by the fire; the guest book, library-card desk, and mailbox live here.

🎨 The Craft Corner — for the makers.

✍️ The Author’s Alcove — my writing room, with my children’s book on the shelf.

🕯️ Memorial Chapel — the memorial room, where every Ancestor of the Day gets their candle lit.

🗺️ Wander & Wonder — my journey: travels, digs, ceremonies, reunions, and the folks I’ve met along the way.

📚 The Lending Library — borrow a book the old-fashioned way, with your own library card.

🗝️ The Keepsake Corner — treasures and memories, with a keepsake-tag maker you can personalize and download.

🐣 The Hatching Room — where new ideas hatch (including peeks at Heirloomie).

📝 The Blog Room — every post, right inside the Nook.

🛋️ The Couch Corner — kick back and relax, the cozy screening room.

How it works is simple: click a door, and it opens its own little world. Light a candle for someone you love. Sign the guest book. Get yourself a library card — the grandkids all have theirs. Just wander.

My Facebook work page got a refresh too — An Ever Widening Circle – Genealogy Research by Coni Dubois — with a new cover and my Media Kit linked up. And if you want to find me anywhere, here are all my doors:

What we’re building: my children’s book, The True Story of the Barkhamsted Light House Village, is live on Amazon in paperback and Kindle. My Ancestor of the Day series just wrapped its daily run with Day 7 — Hannah Sands — and starting Sunday it becomes Ancestor of the Week, every Sunday afternoon. My Heirloomie genealogy app is on its way to Google Play. My poetry book From My Heart to Yours is a free download. And my research books are all finding their home on the shelves.

And you’ll notice five little faces popping up everywhere — my mini-me mascots. There’s Mini-Coni (that’s me, always in the middle, in a new outfit every time), Ancestria the kindly robot-grandmother, Penny the duck, Mini Jaybird with Desi the green parrot, and Sassy. They run the Book Nook, they’ll live in Heirloomie, and they show up on the blog and socials. If you spot the little faded brooch seal on every picture — that’s my mark. If the image ever wanders off, at least my mark rides along.

Come wander through. Light a candle. Stay a while. This place was built for kin — and that includes you.

© 2026 Ever Widening Circle Research by Coni Dubois LLC. All rights reserved.

Posted in Coni Dubois

Ancestor of the Day #7: Hannah Sands — The Medicine Didn’t Die on the Mountain

Transcription of Reuben Barbour's 1849 Elmira Gazette obituary, which calls him 'Dr. Barbour' — corroborating the family history that his occupation was an 'Indian Doctor'Day 1 was Molly. Yesterday was James. Today I close the first week with their daughter — and she gets the finale for a reason. Hannah Sands married a man family history remembers as an “Indian Doctor,” and her line is the largest branch on the whole tree. The medicine didn’t die on the mountain. It traveled.

Hannah Sands was born around 1753 or 1754 in the Lighthouse Village itself — the daughter of Chief James Chagum and Mary “Molly” Barber, the founding couple. (If you missed them: Day 1 was Molly and Day 6 was James.) She grew up in a village where healing was daily work. Lewis Sprague Mills wrote it right into his poem about the village — the Legend:

“Found they roots and herbs for healing,
Ferns to cure the poison ivy,
Soft witch hazel steeped for bruises.
Many medicines they fashioned
For the people of the township,
Selling each for cash or barter.”

That’s the world Hannah was raised in. A medicine-making village.

On October 31, 1784, in Barkhamsted, she married Reuben Barber — married by Justice of the Peace Thomas Wilder, by her own sworn statement in her widow’s pension deposition. (The pledge is the pledge: in a separate affidavit for bounty land, she said “on or about” October 30, 1778. Same justice, different year. 1784 matches what I’ve always carried, and it’s the date I stand by until a record says otherwise.)

Reuben was a soldier first. His 1832 pension application traces him through the Revolution — enlisted 1776, served at Fredericksburgh, Ridgebury, and Fishkill — and his obituary fills in the rest: the storming of Stony Point under General Wayne, Oriskany, Fort Stanwix. He served again in the War of 1812. He was placed on the pension roll October 25, 1833, at 78.

But here’s the part that stopped me cold. A family history of Reuben Barber and Hannah Chaugham — submitted by Jan Rieke, published by Joyce M. Tice on the Chemung County NYGenWeb pages — gives his occupation in plain words: “His occupation was an Indian Doctor.”

An Indian Doctor. A practitioner of the old herbal medicine way — the same roots-and-herbs tradition Hannah grew up with in the village. And the obituary backs up the title, if not the practice: the Elmira Gazette, April 1849 — headed “ANOTHER HERO GONE!” — calls him “Dr. Barbour.” Twice. “Probably no man in his sphere was more extensively known, than was Dr. Barbour.”

Now the honest part, because the pledge doesn’t bend for a good story. “Indian Doctor” comes to us through family history — not yet through a pension file or a census occupation column. The obituary proves he was called Doctor; it doesn’t prove he practiced. And I have found no record — none — naming Hannah herself as a healer. What I can say, honestly, is this: she was raised in a medicine-making village, she married the man remembered as the Indian Doctor, and the healing tradition lived on in her household. The medicine traveled with her.

It traveled far. After the war the couple lived in Ridgebury and New Hartford, Connecticut, then Greenfield, New York, then Pennsylvania — and in 1793, back in Barkhamsted, Reuben and Hannah sold their land on Ragged Mountain to George Shepherd. Land Hannah had inherited after her father James’s death. Her name, on a deed, selling mountain land. That’s ink, not legend.

They settled finally in Catlin, Chemung County, New York. Reuben died there April 16, 1849 — 99 years old by his obituary’s count. Hannah lived on another ten years, dying about July 29, 1859, at roughly 105. The 1850 census catches her: “Hannah Barber, 96, born Connecticut,” living next door to her son James. A 96-year-old village daughter, still next to her boy.

Their children: Hannah; Thomas, born about 1788; James B. — “Long Jim” Barber, a War of 1812 veteran himself; and Patience, who married Charles Stephens. (One more pledge note: the cemetery notes list three children; the compiler adds Thomas. I give you both, the way I found them.)

And the branch she started? It’s the biggest one. In my extraction of the descendants of James and Molly — 2,825 pages — Hannah’s line counts 1,360 souls. More than all seven of her siblings combined. Fitting, isn’t it? The daughter who carried the medicine out of the village planted the largest branch on the tree.

One more thing, and it’s the reason this week ends here. If you’ve read my children’s book — The True Story of the Barkhamsted Light House Village (paperback · Kindle) — you’ve already met her. She’s one of the eight children in the story, the aunts and uncles arriving home. The book ends with family. So does this week.

So here’s your Day 7 ancestor: a village daughter, a soldier’s wife, the mother of the largest branch — who carried the old medicine off the mountain and into the future. No one wrote down that she healed. But the village she came from did, the husband she chose did, and 1,360 descendants are the proof that something in that household knew how to keep people alive.

This closes the daily run — seven days, seven ancestors. Starting Sunday, the series becomes Ancestor of the Week, every Sunday afternoon. Same pledge. Same honesty. Just once a week, so I can keep proving and proving again.

Who do you want to see next? Tell me below.

— Coni

Sources: Descendants of Reuben Barber AND Hannah Chaugham (Jan Rieke / Joyce M. Tice, Chemung County NYGenWeb — occupation note, 1849 Elmira Gazette obituary, pension details, marriage affidavits, children’s list) · The Legend of Barkhamsted Light House (Lewis Sprague Mills, Project Gutenberg #36935 — village herbal-medicine passage) · Day 1: Mary “Molly” Barber Chagum · Day 4: Theodore James Barber (their great-grandson) · Day 6: Chief James Chagum (her father)

#AncestorOfTheDay #EverWideningCircle

© 2026 Ever Widening Circle Research by Coni Dubois LLC. All rights reserved.

Posted in Coni Dubois

Ancestor of the Day #6: Chief James Chagum — The Chief Whose Name Never Sat Still

Day 1 was Molly. Today is James. You can’t tell the founding mother’s story without the founding father — and this one was a chief.

James Chagum. He was known to be chief — the Chief of the Barkhamsted Light House Tribe. That’s not my embellishment; that’s what the old accounts say. A Narragansett man from Block Island who, with his wife Mary “Molly” Barber — my Day 1 ancestor — built a village on Ragged Mountain above the Farmington River around 1740. A village of outcasts that lasted more than a century.

Here’s the thing about James: his name never sat still. Chagum. Chaugham. Chogam. Shawgum. Every clerk who wrote it down spelled it the way it sounded to him that day. So if you’re descended from him — and hundreds of us are — the first lesson is this: search every spelling, or you’ll miss your own grandfather.

The record that anchors him: on May 3, 1779, James “Chogam” bought 70 acres at Ragged Mountain from Abraham Kellogg for £21. Barkhamsted land records, Volume 1, pages 205–206. I’ve transcribed the whole deed right here on this blog — read every word of it. A chief buying land in his own name. That’s not legend. That’s ink.

Transcription of the 1779 deed in which Abraham Kellogg sold James 'Chogam' 70 acres at Ragged Mountain for £21 — Barkhamsted land records, Volume 1, pages 205–206

Now the honest part — the pledge is the pledge. I have found no birth record, no marriage record, no death record for James. None. You’ll see dates floating around online — born about 1710, died about 1800 — but those are somebody’s guesses, not records, and I won’t dress them up as fact here. When the record shows up, you’ll hear it from me first.

Why “Lighthouse”? There was no lighthouse. There were cabin hearth-fires glowing through the windows at night, and stagecoach drivers on the Hartford–Albany road steered by that glow. “There’s the Lighthouse — only five miles more to New Hartford.” A village of outcasts became everybody’s landmark. I love that.

The village James and Molly founded lasted from about 1740 to about 1860. It’s on the National Register of Historic Places now, and a Connecticut State Archaeological Preserve — thanks in large part to Ken Feder, who first surveyed the site in the summer of 1986 and has spent decades proving what we descendants always knew: this place was real, and it mattered. (His site photos appear here with his permission — thank you, Ken.)

Ken Feder giving the Lighthouse Trail tour at Peoples State Forest, October 2011 (Coni's footage, used with permission)

In 2015 I published my first research book about him — James Chagum: Chief of the Barkhamsted Lighthouse Village — and dedicated it to my father. Daddy asked me, more than twenty years ago, to find our Native American roots. That one request became my life’s work. You can read the book free on my blog.

And if you’ve read my children’s book — The True Story of the Barkhamsted Light House Village (paperback · Kindle) — you’ve already met him. Elder Chief James Chagum narrates the whole story. The chief tells his own tale, the way it should be.

So here’s your Day 6 ancestor: a chief, a landowner, a husband, a founder. No birth certificate. No death certificate. Just a deed, a mountain, a village that glowed in the dark — and hundreds of descendants, including me.

What name in YOUR tree keeps changing spelling? Every variant is a clue, not a dead end. Tell me below. 💛

Who do you want to see next? Tell me below.

— Coni

Sources: Barkhamsted Lighthouse (Wikipedia) · Freedom Trail: Barkhamsted (CTMQ) · A Lighthouse for Outcasts, Far From the Ocean (Today in CT History) (Today in CT History) · 1779 Kellogg deed transcription (this blog) · Kenneth Feder (CCSU)
#AncestorOfTheDay #EverWideningCircle
© 2026 Ever Widening Circle Research by Coni Dubois LLC. All rights reserved.

Posted in Coni Dubois, Coni's Stuff, Ken Feder, Travel, Tribal

Ancestor of the Day #5: Clorenda Rose Short Barber Porter — “They Go Together”

Yesterday I told you about Theodore — the 27-year-old corporal who never came home from Chancellorsville. Today I’m telling you about the woman who waited for him, buried him in her heart, and went on living for forty-nine more years.

Family tree chart showing Clorenda Rose Short Barber Porter (1838–1912), her first husband Theodore James Barber, their son William Henry Barber, her father Samuel Short, and her second husband Allen A. Porter

Her name was Clorenda Rose Short. The records spell it three different ways — Clorenda, Clarinda, Clorinda — so you can pick your favorite, but she was my 3rd great-grandmother, and this is her story.

She was born in November 1838 in Chatham, Tioga County, Pennsylvania, the daughter of Samuel Short. Somewhere around 1855 she married Theodore James Barber, and in 1857 their son William Henry was born. Then came the war, and in May 1863 Theodore died at Chancellorsville. Clorenda was about twenty-four years old, a widow with a little boy.

She did what widows did — she kept going. And years later she married again, to another Civil War veteran: Allen A. Porter. (My records say August 16, 1868 — but there’s a question mark beside it in my own files, so I’m giving it to you with the question mark still on. The pledge is the pledge.)

They built a life together near Henderson, Michigan. Decades of it. And then came Monday, July 8, 1912.

Cabinet-card photograph of Clarinda Short and Allen A. Porter, Coni's 3rd great-grandparents

That evening, at about nine o’clock, Allen Porter died.

And about two hours later, according to the Owosso Argus-Press, Clarinda walked out onto the porch, cried out — and fell dead in the farmhand’s arms.

The coroner, Guy A. Cole of Owosso, wrote her cause of death on the Michigan death certificate in words I’ll never forget: “a shock occasioned by the death of her husband.” Her heart, the certificate says, had been troubled for years. Her son Frank gave the information. She was buried at Henderson Cemetery on July 11th.

Michigan Certificate of Death for Clarinda Short Porter, July 8, 1912 — cause of death 'a shock occasioned by the death of her husband'

The newspaper ran the story under a headline that says everything: “THEY GO TOGETHER — Wife Succumbs To Heart Trouble Two Hours After Husband’s Death.” And it described the funeral this way: “The two sombre caskets were placed side by side… At the cemetery they were both lowered into one large grave, where the departed will sleep the long sleep together, as they went through the greater portion of their lives.”

Owosso Argus-Press headline from July 1912: 'THEY GO TOGETHER — Wife Succumbs To Heart Trouble Two Hours After Husband's Death'

One large grave. Together. As they went through the greater portion of their lives.

Now follow her line forward, the way I showed you Theodore’s yesterday: Clorenda’s son William Henry grew up, married, and had a daughter named Ada May. Ada May married George Arthur Allen. Their son Alvin married Marion — my grandmother. Their son Rex was my father.

So the woman who died of a broken heart on a Michigan porch in 1912 is the reason I’m here telling you about it. That’s how this works. That’s the ever widening circle.

I wrote about this couple years ago — They Go Together (2013) — and I keep a whole chapter on Clarinda in my files. But today she gets her Ancestor of the Day, because a love like that deserves its afternoon.

Who do you want to see next? Tell me below. 💛

Family tree chart for Clorenda Rose Short Barber Porter

— Coni

Sources: Michigan Certificate of Death for Clarinda Short Porter, Shiawassee Co., Rush Twp., July 8, 1912 (written copy in Coni’s files; Coroner Guy A. Cole) · Owosso Argus-Press, July 9/10/11, 1912 — “THEY GO TOGETHER” (clippings collected by Pauline Goodwin, 2013; in Coni’s files) · Individual Report for Clorenda Rose Short, by Coni Dubois · Find A Grave #566602325 · Chapter 16, Clarinda Short Porter (Coni’s files).

#AncestorOfTheDay #EverWideningCircle

© 2026 Ever Widening Circle Research by Coni Dubois LLC. All rights reserved.

Posted in Coni Dubois, Coni's Stuff, Ken Feder, Travel, Tribal

Ancestor of the Day #4: Theodore James Barber — The Soldier Who Never Came Home From Chancellorsville

Yesterday was Lucy, the dynamite widow with three husbands. Today we go further back — past Michigan, past the lumber mills — all the way to Virginia, 1863, and a 27-year-old corporal in a blue uniform who never came home.

Watch the Ancestor of the Day short film:

If you want the deep file first, I wrote about him years ago: American Civil War Soldier: Theodore Barber (2012). Today’s telling is the family version — the records on screen, the way I do it.

Theodore James Barber was born in August 1835 in Catlin, Chemung County, New York — the son of Grant Barber, a farmer, and Elizabeth Cummins. The 1850 census finds him at 15 in Caton, New York, one of eight children in a farmhouse: Harriet, Eli, Mary, Charles, Amanda, Nancy, baby Caroline — and Theodore. By 1860 he’d crossed into Tioga County, Pennsylvania. Somewhere around 1855 he married Clarinda Rose Short. Their son William Henry was born in 1857.

Now look at the family chart above — really look at it. Follow Theodore’s line back: his great-grandparents were Reuben Barber/Barbour and Hannah Sands Chagum. Hannah Sands — the daughter of James Chagum and Mary “Molly” Barber. The founding couple of the Barkhamsted Light House Village. My people.

So when Theodore James Barber marched off to war, he carried Lighthouse blood in a Union uniform.

On November 1, 1861, at Titusville, Pennsylvania, he enlisted as a Private in Company K of the 57th Pennsylvania Infantry, under Captain Cornelius S. Chase. He was 26. He rose to Corporal. And for the next eighteen months the 57th carried him through the whole hard road of the Army of the Potomac: the Peninsula, Yorktown, Williamsburg, Fair Oaks, the Seven Days, Second Bull Run, Fredericksburg in December 1862, the Mud March.

Then came Chancellorsville.

The 57th belonged to the 1st Brigade, 1st Division, 3rd Corps. On May 1st, 1863, they marched and countermarched along the Plank Road and bivouacked near the Chancellor House. On May 2nd they took position on the extreme right flank of the corps — and at dusk, Stonewall Jackson’s flank attack fell on the Union line to their right and rear like a hammer. The division was marched to the rear in the chaos.

At dawn on May 3rd, the Confederates attacked. The regiment was moved at the double-quick and deployed near the Chancellor House. They counter-charged the enemy — and were driven back with heavy casualties. The brigade fell back about a mile and held its line for two more days.

Theodore James Barber died that day: May 3, 1863. My records say the death was gangrene from a foot/leg wound — that’s what the family papers hold, and I give it to you as the family holds it. He was 27 years old. He rests now in Fredericksburg National Cemetery.

Wounded Union soldiers being tended in a field hospital near Fredericksburg, photographed May 2, 1863, the day before Theodore James Barber died at Chancellorsville

I want to tell you one more thing, honestly, because the pledge is the pledge. In my 2012 post I shared a famous photograph — wounded Union soldiers being tended in a field hospital near Fredericksburg, taken May 2, 1863, the day before Theodore died. And I wrote what I still believe: I believe the gentleman laying down is my 3rd great-grandfather. Believe — not prove. I can’t prove it. But I’ve looked at that photograph a hundred times, and a granddaughter knows.

He left behind Clarinda — about 24 years old, with six-year-old William Henry. She would marry again, years later, to another Civil War veteran, Allen Porter — and if that name rings a bell, it should: they’re the “They Go Together” couple, the pair who died two hours apart in 1912 and were buried in a single grave. I told their story here in 2013. But that’s her story. This one’s his.

William Henry grew up, married, had a daughter named Ada May. Ada May married George Arthur Allen. Their son Alvin married Marion — my grandmother. Their son Rex was my father.

That’s the chain. That’s how a corporal who fell at Chancellorsville in 1863 reaches all the way to me, typing this in Louisiana in 2026.

Theodore James Barber. The soldier who never came home. Remembered.

Family tree chart for Theodore James Barber

Your turn: Who do you want to see next? Tell me below — I read every suggestion.

One Ancestor of the Day each week is YOUR ancestor. Brick wall? Send it through my contact form at https://conidubois.fyi/contact.

— Coni

Sources: Individual Report for Theodore James Barber, by Coni Dubois (service record: Private enlisted 1 Nov 1861, Co. K 57th PA Infantry; rank Corporal; died 3 May 1863 Chancellorsville VA; burial Fredericksburg National Cemetery; Find A Grave #6831641126) · Coni’s “Ancestors of Coni Dubois” research manuscript (birth Aug 1835 Catlin NY; 1850 census Caton NY; 1860 census Tioga PA) · American Civil War Soldier: Theodore Barber (this blog, 2012 — service record, Bates’ History of Pennsylvania Volunteers regimental excerpt, Chancellorsville field-hospital photograph) · 57th Pennsylvania Infantry regimental timeline, civilwarintheeast.com · Family tree chart, Coni’s own tree (theodore-chart.jpg) · Clarenda (Short, Barber) Porter death records — “They Go Together” (this blog, 2013)

#AncestorOfTheDay #EverWideningCircle

Posted in Coni Dubois, Coni's Stuff, Ken Feder, Travel, Tribal

Ancestor of the Day #3: Lucy Genevieve Amo — The Dynamite Widow With Three Husbands

Yesterday I told you about Ernest Emmit Griffith — my great-grandfather, killed by dynamite on September 23, 1915. He was 26. If you missed it, the full story with the records is here: https://conidubois.com/2026/09/26/ancestor-of-the-day-2-ernest-emmit-griffith-the-morning-the-dynamite-went-off/

Watch the Ancestor of the Day short film:

Today is about the woman he left behind.

Lucy Genevieve Amo was born April 22, 1882, in Berlin — that’s Rockwood — in Monroe County, Michigan, to Samuel Amo and Mary Campeau. I have her birth record in my files, certified copy and all: Lucy J. Amo, female, white. By 1900 the family was up in Whitney Township, Arenac County — Lucy 18, still her father’s daughter.

Certified copy of Michigan birth record for Lucy J. Amo, born April 22, 1882, in Berlin, Monroe County, to Samuel and Mary Amo

On March 29, 1909, in Au Gres, she married Ernest Griffith. The license says he was 19 and she was 26. The witnesses were Albert and Katherine Amo — her people, standing up for her. The 1910 census finds them in Whitney Township: Emmit 20, a farmer; Lucy 27; and a one-month-old baby girl.

Then the hard years came, the way they came for everybody then. They buried a baby boy, Murther, who died of cholera at five months and ten days in August 1911 — and it was Ernest himself who stood informant on that death certificate. Read that again: the grieving father signed the paper. Then September 1915, the dynamite. Lucy was 33 years old, a widow with small children. Five weeks before Ernest died, she’d given birth to a daughter, Marion — the baby who grew up to be my grandmother.

Here is what the records say next, and I want you to sit with the timeline the way I did.

Eleven months after the dynamite, on August 4, 1916, in East Tawas, the widow Lucy Griffith married Francis C. Baker. The marriage return is in my files — Iosco County, record number 33, and you can read it yourself in the photos. He was 69. She was listed as 40. (Her birth record says 1882, which would make her 34 — I report the record’s words as written, and I keep my own count beside them. That’s the pledge.)

1916 Iosco County, Michigan marriage return, record number 33, showing Francis C. Baker, 69, and Mrs. Lucy Griffith, 40, married August 4, 1916, in East Tawas

Now here’s the part that stopped me cold. Francis C. Baker was a Civil War veteran — Company 91 of the New York Infantry and Company A of the 147th. He’d filed his own invalid pension back in 1889. And in my files there’s his pension index card, plain as day: soldier Baker, Francis C. — dependent, widow, Baker, Lucy — widow’s filing, August 19, 1918, from Michigan.

U.S. Civil War pension index card for soldier Francis C. Baker, showing his widow Lucy Baker’s filing dated August 19, 1918

So Lucy married a Civil War veteran nearly thirty years her senior, and within two years she was a widow again — drawing a Union widow’s pension. The 1920 census finds her back in Whitney Township in her father’s house, and next to her name the record might as well say what it says: Francis Baker, deceased.

She married a third time on November 10, 1924, in Standish — William Wesley Nicholas. The record calls him William W. Nichols; my files say Nicholas. He was 58, a farmer, a widower with four previous marriages. Lucy — listed as “Mrs. Lucy Baker,” 42, keeping house, twice married before — became his fifth wife.

The censuses carry her forward: Paradise in Chippewa County in 1930, Mackinac in 1940. And then the last record, the one that undid me.

Lucy died February 25, 1947, at 10:55 in the morning at the Newberry Clinic — pulmonary embolism, age 64. She’s buried at Forest Home Cemetery in Newberry. And on her death certificate, in the box marked “Name of husband,” the clerk wrote two words:

Emmett Griffith.

Michigan certificate of death for Lucy Genevieve Griffith, died February 25, 1947 — the ‘name of husband’ line reads ‘Emmett Griffith’

Not Baker. Not Nicholas. Emmett Griffith — the 26-year-old farmer blown apart by dynamite thirty-two years earlier, the father of her children. After two more marriages, after a Civil War widow’s pension, after a fifth-wife wedding in Standish — when they asked her, or asked for her, who her husband was, the answer was Emmett.

The informant on that certificate was Mrs. Alvin Allen of Germfask. My grandmother Marion — Lucy’s own daughter — reporting her mother’s death. My own family, holding the pen at the end.

She had a hard life — that’s what I was always told, and the records don’t argue. Widowed at 33 with babies. Married again at 34 to a 69-year-old veteran. Widowed again. Married a third time to a man who’d already buried four wives. And at the end of it all, her heart’s answer never changed.

That’s Lucy Genevieve Amo. The dynamite widow with three husbands. My great-grandmother.

Sepia group photograph of the Amo family — parents Samuel and Mary Amo seated with their seven children standing around them, outdoors

🔍 MINI CONI HUNT: I hid my little Mini Coni somewhere in the Amo family photo above — first one to spot her and tell me in the comments gets a shoutout in tomorrow’s Ancestor of the Day!

🗳️ YOU PICK ANCESTOR #4: The last vote came up empty, so I’m trying again — and this time I’m counting on you! Here are your three choices:

  1. Clorenda Rose Short Barber Porter (1838–1912) — my 3rd great-grandmother. In July 1912 her husband, a Civil War veteran, died at 9 PM — and two hours later, shattered by the shock, she walked onto the porch, cried out, and fell dead in the farmhand’s arms. The coroner wrote her cause of death as “a shock occasioned by the death of her husband.” They were buried in a single grave.
  2. Theodore James Barber (1835–1863) — he marched off with the Union’s 57th Pennsylvania at 28 and never came home from Chancellorsville.
  3. Murther Richard Griffith (1911–1911) — Lucy’s baby boy. He lived five months and ten days, died of cholera — and his grieving father signed the death certificate himself.

Your turn: What does your family’s death certificates say in the “name of husband/wife” box — and does it match the life they actually lived? Tell me in the comments.

Tomorrow afternoon: another ancestor, another record. And remember — one Ancestor of the Day each week is YOUR ancestor. Brick wall? Send it through my contact form at https://conidubois.fyi/contact.

— Coni

Sources: Individual Report for Lucy Genevieve Amo, by Coni Dubois (U.S. Federal Censuses 1900–1940; Michigan Marriage Records; Michigan Death Records) · Certified copy of birth record, Lucy J. Amo, Monroe County #160 Book C-77 (Coni’s files) · Iosco County Return of Marriages, quarter ending Sept 30, 1916, Record No. 33 (Coni’s files) · U.S. Civil War Pension Index, General Index to Pension Files

1861–1934 — Baker, Francis C., widow Lucy Baker, filed Aug 19, 1918 (Coni’s files) · State of Michigan Certificate of Death, Luce County, State File No. 1677, Feb 25, 1947 (Coni’s files) · Ancestor of the Day #2: Ernest Emmit Griffith (this blog, 2026)