Wednesday, November 26, 2025

A Reputation on Trial: Delilah Pickens Morehead and the Fight for Her Good Name

Most 19th century records are simple. Names entered into large books. Lines written by clerks who never imagined anyone would read them again. But every so often, the ink on the page tells a larger story. The slander case involving Delilah Pickens Morehead (wife of Alexander Morehead) in Fairfield County, Ohio is one of those moments.

In the early 1830s Alexander and Delilah were living in Fairfield County, raising a blended family and finding their footing in a close rural community. Life in these neighborhoods depended on trust. People traded together, worshiped together, and relied on one another in daily routines. Your name was one of your most valuable possessions. When a person’s character was questioned, the consequences spread quickly.

At some point in 1831, Jonathan Norris and his wife Sarah spoke words about Delilah that crossed the legal threshold for slander in Ohio. According to the court declaration, the Norrises were accused of telling others that Delilah lived a lewd and immoral life, that she was unchaste and guilty of fornication, that she carried on lascivious conversations, and that her behavior was indecent enough that neighbors suspected her of immoral conduct. They also allegedly claimed she was untrustworthy in the community and someone whom “good and worthy” citizens ought to avoid.

Ohio law also required the Moreheads to meet a very high bar. The plaintiffs had to prove the exact words spoken, where the words were spoken, in front of which witnesses, that the words were false, that they caused measurable financial harm, and that the defendants acted with malicious intent. Most slander suits failed under these requirements. Only the most serious accusations had any chance of success.The Norrises denied everything in the October Term 1831. They formally entered a plea in the Court of Common Pleas stating they were not guilty of the grievances the Moreheads described. Because the statements were made about a married woman, Delilah was required by law to file the suit together with Alexander. This also shows that Alexander stood with her in seeking a public answer.

The Norrises asked for a jury. Nine men from the county were sworn in and heard the evidence. The words spoken in barns, fields, or front yards no longer survive, but the reaction of the jury does. After listening to the testimony, they found Jonathan and Sarah Norris guilty in the form described by the Moreheads. The court awarded Alexander and Delilah forty five dollars in damages and ordered the Norrises to pay all court costs. In a community where everyone knew one another, this verdict said plainly that the jury did not believe the accusations made against Delilah.

Not long after this period the Moreheads moved northwest into Van Wert County, where they appear in the 1840 and 1850 censuses. The slander case remained behind in the courthouse records of Fairfield County. It is only a few pages in a long ledger, but it lets us see something of Delilah’s life. She was confronted with serious accusations. She chose to answer them directly. She brought the matter before her community and a jury cleared her name. It is one of the rare moments where her voice and her experience emerge clearly through the surviving documents.


Sources

Fairfield County Court of Common Pleas, Page 49, Image Group 115937731.

Fairfield County Court of Common Pleas, Page 51, Image Group 115937731.


Tuesday, November 11, 2025

Where Faith Held a Colony Together: The Swedish Church on the Christina

Tracing my Peterson family’s beginnings in Delaware’s oldest surviving church

Reconstruction of Fort Christina, the Swedish settlement established in 1638 on the Christina River.
The church was later built on part of the old fort site.

When the Swedish settlers arrived along the Delaware River in the 1600s, they brought with them little more than their faith, their work ethic, and a determination to build a new community. Long before Wilmington became a city, these families raised a small stone church on the site of their first fort at Christina. That church, known today as Holy Trinity or Old Swedes Church, has stood for more than three centuries as both a house of worship and a witness to the passing generations.

Engraving of “Swede’s Church, Wilmington, Del.,” by John Sartain, in Elizabeth Montgomery, Reminiscences of Wilmington, in Familiar Village Tales, Ancient and New (Philadelphia: T.K. Collins Jr., 1872). Public domain, image restoration by Steve Peterson, 2025.

Elizabeth Montgomery, writing in Reminiscences of Wilmington, in Familiar Village Tales, Ancient and New (1872), tells how the early settlers from New Jersey would row their boats across the river on Sunday mornings, tying them to the tree roots along the Christina shore before going inside for worship. The simple act of pulling up their boats and gathering under one roof became a weekly ritual of faith and fellowship. For a people far from their homeland, this church was not just a place to pray, it was a lifeline to identity and community.

Illustration of Swedish settlers arriving by boat to attend services at Old Swedes Church, based on accounts from Elizabeth Montgomery, Reminiscences of Wilmington (1872). Artistic reconstruction, 2025. Public domain for research and illustrative purposes.

For genealogists, this little stone church remains one of the most valuable sources for tracing families in the region. Before Delaware kept consistent civil records, the church’s baptism, marriage, and burial entries were the only written proof that a person had lived, loved, and died there. In these pages, faith and recordkeeping merged, preserving family ties long after paper and ink should have faded.

Among those early entries are the names of John Peterson and Ruth Pyles, who were married at Old Swedes on July 9, 1773. A year later, their son Robert Peterson was born January 28, 1774, and baptized there on November 11, 1774. The handwriting is simple and clear—“Robert Son of John & Ruth Peterson born Janry 28th baptizd Novr 11th 1774.” That single line quietly links one Delaware family to a story stretching back to the first Swedish pioneers who built the church nearly a century before.

The original church record for Robert’s baptism reads, “Robert Son of John & Ruth Peterson born Janry 28th
baptizd Novr 11th 1774.” (Records of Holy Trinity [Old Swedes] Church, Wilmington, Delaware, 1697–1773.)

Today, the church still stands near the original site of Fort Christina, where the first Swedish settlers landed in 1638. Its stone walls, hewn from local blue granite, have outlasted every generation that once filled its pews. The river no longer runs as close as it did in their time, industrial growth and land reclamation have reshaped the shoreline, but in 1774, the Peterson family would have found themselves only steps from the water’s edge.

“Map of Wilmington as of 1772, with the addition of original tracts, Indian trails, and land marks,” Delaware Public Archives. Public domain. The letter “A” marks the Swedish Church (Old Swedes) south of the Christina Creek.

To walk through the churchyard today is to move through time, to stand where boats once tied to trees and where voices once rose in hymns of gratitude. For those of us tracing our roots, the Old Swedes Church reminds us that faith and recordkeeping often worked hand in hand to preserve what civil institutions had not yet begun to keep: the record of a life.

Primary and Historical References


Modern Interpretive and Genealogical References


Monday, November 10, 2025

Not My Grandmother!

When Deeds Tell the Real Story

Research Goal: One mystery kept bothering me: was the Elizabeth in Robert Peterson’s 1819 deed the same woman who once married John Christopher?

The hunt for early marriages in Salem County, New Jersey, is never simple. With the 1810 census missing and marriage records scarce, I am left piecing together my family through scattered bits of evidence, tax lists, wills, and the occasional surviving church record. Every clue feels valuable, but none ever seem to tell the whole story.

One of the most stubborn puzzles has been Robert Peterson, my ancestor who lived along Oldmans Creek in what was then Upper Penns Neck Township, Salem County. Robert first appears in local records at the turn of the 19th century, a shoemaker who purchased small parcels of land from familiar neighborhood names like Curry, Pyle, and Barnes.

He married Catherine Simpkins in 1801, and together they had three children: Dean, Ezekiel, and Martha. Their family was part of the tight-knit network of Simpkinses, Pyles, and Guests who lived near Sculltown (now Auburn). But sometime before 1809, Catherine died. A later guardianship petition confirms that Robert was left to care for their children alone.

Deed excerpts transcribed, analyzed, and interpreted by Steve Peterson, 2025.
All images from public domain sources (Salem County Clerk’s Office).
Then, in 1819, a deed appears showing Robert and his wife Elizabeth Peterson selling property, proof that he had remarried sometime after Catherine’s death. The problem was, no record of that marriage has been found.


The missing census offered no help, and Salem County’s marriage books for that decade are nearly silent. So who was Elizabeth?

One promising lead was a widow named Elizabeth Christopher. She lived close to Robert, her husband had died by 1809, and Robert Peterson had served as a witness to that husband’s will. The two families moved in the same circles along Oldmans Creek and were tied to many of the same surnames.

Everything seemed to line up. Same neighborhood. Same family connections. Same time frame. It felt like the perfect fit.

But as every researcher eventually learns, “seems to fit” isn’t proof.

When I began studying the Salem County deed books, the story changed. Over and over, I found this Elizabeth described clearly as the widow of John Christopher, deceased, selling land she had inherited, signing with her mark, and continuing to use her married name year after year. She never once appeared as a Peterson.

Meanwhile, in Robert Peterson’s own transactions from 1809 to 1819, his wife appears simply as Elizabeth Peterson, releasing her dower rights on land sales, but clearly a different person from the widow Christopher. Two women. Two distinct lives.

And then came the reward of all that digging: the deeds not only separated the two women but also revealed the widow’s maiden name, suggesting she belonged to a completely different branch of the Simpkins family.

Deed excerpts transcribed, analyzed, and interpreted by Steve Peterson, 2025.
All images from public domain sources (Salem County Clerk’s Office).

It felt like a sad victory, sad because it would have been so rewarding to have finally discovered my grandmother’s surname, but a victory because I no longer have to wonder about this Elizabeth. The record is clear. The mystery, at least for her, is solved.

Deed excerpts transcribed, analyzed, and interpreted by Steve Peterson, 2025.
All images from public domain sources (Salem County Clerk’s Office).

This experience reminded me that land records aren’t just about boundaries or acreage. They’re about identity. They record who people were, spouses, widows, heirs, or neighbors, and when used carefully, they can correct assumptions that have stood for generations.

And in this case, they corrected mine.

She was not my grandmother.

Sources

Primary Records

  • Salem County, New Jersey, Deed Books. County Clerk’s Office, Salem, NJ. Various volumes, 1801–1832, documenting land transactions involving Robert Peterson, Elizabeth Peterson, and the widow Elizabeth Christopher. Public domain images.
    Specific references include:

    • Robert Peterson to Jonathan Guest, 20 March 1809; recorded 29 March 1809.

    • Elizabeth Christopher (widow of John Christopher) to Henry Guest, 31 March 1832.

    • Ephraim Batcheba Barnes to Robert Peterson, 14 April 1804; recorded 18 October 1804.

  • Salem County Guardianship Records, 1809. Petition naming Robert Peterson as guardian of minor children Dean, Ezekiel, and Martha Peterson, following the death of Catherine Peterson (née Simpkins).

Secondary and Contextual Sources

  • Salem County Historical Society. Early Families of Upper Penns Neck and Auburn. Salem, NJ. Background on Simpkins, Pyle, and Peterson families living near Oldmans Creek.

  • New Jersey State Archives. Deeds and Wills Collection, Trenton, NJ. Reference for probate connections between the Christopher and Peterson families, 1800–1830.

  • United States Census Records, 1800–1820. Salem County, New Jersey. Context for landownership and family enumeration where available.


Image Credits

  • Salem County, New Jersey Deeds. Digital images from original deed volumes, County Clerk’s Office, Salem, NJ. Public domain reproductions. (Images used to illustrate Robert Peterson’s transactions and the 1832 deed of widow Elizabeth Christopher.)

Mapping Robert Peterson’s Neighborhood: How 200-Year-Old Deeds Came to Life with AI

Sometimes, genealogy feels like time travel. A few lines of 200-year-old ink on an old deed can pull you straight into the world of your ancestors, the creeks they crossed, the roads they traveled, even the neighbors they waved to every morning.

That’s exactly what happened when I set out to map Robert Peterson’s neighborhood in early 19th-century Upper Penns Neck Township, now part of Pennsville, Salem County, New Jersey.

Robert Peterson was a cordwainer (shoemaker) who lived and worked near what was then called Sculltown, later renamed Auburn. Between 1799 and 1819, Peterson bought and sold several small tracts of land along the old Penns Neck Road and Pedricktown Road. The deeds mention his neighbors, the Christophers, the Pyles, and the Guests, and with a little patience (and a lot of compass bearings), those cryptic metes-and-bounds started to line up like puzzle pieces.

That’s when I decided to feed the data into an AI-assisted mapping tool to visualize exactly what the area might have looked like around 1805.

The result? A clean, historically styled “Map of Auburn, N.J.”, showing the small parcels where these early tradesmen lived side by side, Robert Peterson the shoemaker, Andrew Pyle the weaver, Ephraim Barnes the carpenter, and John Christopher the neighbor whose land would one day tie the whole story together. (Note: Please see comment at the end regarding the accuracy of this map.)

About This Map
This map was created using AI-assisted visualization tools to help illustrate how the area may have appeared based on historical deed descriptions, compass bearings, and neighboring landowners. It is an interpretive aid, not an exact survey or substitute for primary source data. All property lines and placements were reconstructed from original Salem County deed books and survey records, with AI used only to visualize the spatial relationships described in those records

The Deed Data Behind the Map

Below is the data that formed the backbone of the map. Each line was pulled directly from the original Salem County deeds, carefully interpreted to preserve bearings, chains, and links, the surveyor’s language of the early 1800s.

Deed summaries adapted from original Salem County deed books, 1799–1809.
Transcriptions and coordinate plotting by Steve Peterson, 2025.

What the Map Reveals

When you stack these deeds together, they form a tight cluster of smallholdings, all fronting the main road and linking to the same set of neighbors. This little cluster was the heart of Sculltown around 1800–1810.

It wasn’t a big town, more like a handful of homesteads where tradesmen worked out of their homes. Shoemaking, weaving, carpentry, and blacksmithing supported nearby farms and travelers heading to Salem or Pedricktown.

Robert Peterson’s shop, for example, almost certainly stood right on the roadside, a modest wooden home with a small “Cordwainer” sign hanging by the door.

Technology Meets Tradition

The AI-generated map helped visualize what early surveyors saw in their minds:

  • Roads forming the framework of community life
  • Neighbors grouped by trade and kinship
  • The old metes-and-bounds giving modern readers a window into how those people lived

But every shape on the map started with you guessed it, dusty handwritten deeds.

Note on the Accuracy of the Map

The map shown above is a creative reconstruction, not an exact survey. It was designed to visualize how Robert Peterson’s neighborhood might have looked based on available deed descriptions and compass bearings. Every tract, direction, and boundary line is drawn from real data, but early 19th-century deeds often contain approximations and variations that make precise modern plotting impossible.

This map should therefore be viewed as one possible interpretation of the Sculltown (Auburn) landscape, meant to help readers understand relationships among landowners and roads. It is not a definitive or legally accurate survey. The true boundaries likely differed in small but important ways from what we can reconstruct today.

In other words, it’s a tool for storytelling and context, an educated visualization of a real place that has changed shape many times over two centuries.

Sources

Primary and Historical References

·        Salem County, New Jersey, Deed Records. County Clerk’s Office, Salem, NJ. Volumes from 1799–1819 referencing land transfers to and from Robert Peterson, Ephraim Batcheba Barnes, Andrew Pyle, and John & Elizabeth Christopher. (Deeds abstracted and plotted for Upper Penns Neck Township/Auburn neighborhood reconstruction.)

·        Map of Salem County, New Jersey. New Jersey State Archives, Trenton, NJ. Historic plats and surveys consulted for road and property alignment in Upper Penns Neck Township (early 1800s).

·        United States Bureau of Land Management. General Land Office Records (search for New Jersey, Salem County). Public domain materials.

Secondary and Contextual Sources

·        Salem County Historical Society. History of Penns Neck and the Village of Auburn. Salem, NJ. Summary of early landowners, industries, and 19th-century settlement patterns.

·        Delaware Public Archives. Map of Wilmington as of 1772. Used for comparative study of neighboring Swedish settlement patterns. Public domain.

·        Christina Conservancy. “History of the Christina River.” https://www.christinaconservancy.org/discover-the-christina/christina-history/

Image Credits

·        Map of Auburn, N.J. (1799–1818). Created by Steve Peterson in collaboration with ChatGPT (OpenAI), 2025. Based on deed data from Salem County, NJ. Public domain image for research and educational use.

·        Robert Peterson’s Shoemaker Shop, Sculltown (Upper Penns Neck, N.J.). Digital historical reconstruction by Steve Peterson with ChatGPT (OpenAI), 2025.

·        Fort Christina (Artist’s Reconstruction). 2025. Created by Steve Peterson with ChatGPT (OpenAI), based on historical and archaeological reports. Public domain image.

Saturday, October 18, 2025

Conscience and Courage: The Mind of Major Daniel McFarland (1787–1814)

When Major Daniel McFarland left his farm in Washington County, Pennsylvania to join the U.S. Army in 1812, the country was unsure about another war. His surviving letters, published by historian John Newell Crombie in “The Papers of Major Daniel McFarland: A Hawk of 1812” offer a rare, unfiltered window into the moral and emotional landscape of an early-nineteenth-century officer.

Together, these letters show a man committed to his country, guided by his faith, and shaped by the hard work and endurance of frontier life.

Patriotism vs. Disillusionment

McFarland’s first preserved letter, written in March 1812 just after his commission as Captain, 22nd U.S. Infantry, captures his sense of duty and inner conflict. He told his cousin Dr. Daniel Millikin of Hamilton, Ohio:

Maj. Daniel McFarland writing from camp, 1812.

“I am about exchanging the peaceful occupation of the farmer and mechanic for the noisy and sanguine employment of the soldier.” (Crombie, p. 103.)

At the start, he believed the war was a just defense of American liberty. But after serving at Fort Niagara and Fort George, his letters show growing frustration. In late 1813 he spoke of “neglect in the Commissary Department” and “an army suffering less from the enemy than from its own administration.” (pp. 110–111.)

Even with his growing frustration, he chose not to resign. He told Millikin he would “not abandon the cause while the cause remains righteous.” (p. 111.)

McFarland’s letters show that he stayed committed to serving, even as he grew frustrated with the army’s administration. Historians describe similar problems across the American forces in the War of 1812, including supply shortages, poor organization, and low morale. Donald Hickey points out that these issues were common in the northern campaigns, especially in 1813 and 1814.

McFarland in quiet prayer before dawn near
Fort George, 1813
.
Religious Conscience

McFarland’s letters show how much his faith shaped the way he viewed the war. On April 3, 1813, after seeing wounded men near Fort George, he wrote:

“War is a fearful school for virtue. The sword may be righteous when the cause is just, yet it remains a dreadful instrument in the hand of man.” (Crombie, p. 108.)

His reflections fit the Presbyterian values (personal responsibility & moral discipline to name a few) he grew up with. His father, Senator Abel McFarland, is recorded in the Pennsylvania Senate Library as a long-serving legislator known locally for integrity and steady leadership from 1811 to 1818. Daniel carried those same beliefs with him into the army, often referring to God’s guidance and protection in his letters.

In one 1814 letter from Sackett’s Harbor, he wrote, “If it please Heaven to preserve me, I shall again see my native hills; if not, I trust my country will remember that I fell in her service.” (p. 113.)

Frontier Perspective

McFarland grew up in the rolling farmland of Amwell Township, and that frontier background shaped how he understood the world. His descriptions of army life show the same kind of rugged self-reliance found in western Pennsylvania communities. As he marched east through Pittsburgh and Bellefonte, he wrote that the soldiers “sleep beneath the open sky and call the wilderness our barracks.” (p. 112.)

He also noted “the lights of the North dancing over our bivouac,” a vivid reference to the aurora borealis during his movement toward Oswego in 1814.

This connection between nature, hardship, and persistence linked his home life with his military experience. Crombie explains that McFarland’s writings “join the rural character of western Pennsylvania with the soldier’s frontier ordeal,” showing how the same endurance that built farms out of forest carried into the long marches and shortages of the northern campaigns.

Legacy of Sacrifice

On July 25, 1814, at the Battle of Lundy’s Lane near Niagara Falls, McFarland was killed in action while commanding elements of the 23rd U.S. Infantry.

The U.S. Army Center of Military History lists him among the officers who fell during that night-long struggle, one of the war’s costliest engagements. His body was likely interred near the battlefield.

Back home, his father Abel McFarland executed a Power of Attorney on October 15, 1814, authorizing his son Demis Lindley McFarland to settle Daniel’s estate and retrieve his effects from New York.  This was another example of the family’s sense of duty. (Crombie, pp. 124–125.)

Thirteen years later, in 1827, Treasury correspondence confirmed back pay due to his estate. Nearly a century afterward, the U.S. Army honored his name once more by dedicating Battery McFarland at Fort Armistead, Maryland, in memory of “Major Daniel McFarland, 23rd U.S. Infantry, killed in action in Canada in 1814.” (FortWiki entry; U.S. Army Coast Artillery records.)

His death marked the third generation of public service in the McFarland family, from Colonel Daniel McFarland, a Revolutionary-era landholder, to Senator Abel McFarland, and finally Major Daniel McFarland, who gave his life for the same ideals his family had long carried forward.

References

All illustrations generated by ChatGPT (OpenAI), based on historical descriptions from John Newell Crombie, “The Papers of Major Daniel McFarland: A Hawk of 1812,” Western Pennsylvania Historical Magazine (April 1968).

Crombie, John Newell. “The Papers of Major Daniel McFarland: A Hawk of 1812.” Western Pennsylvania Historical Magazine 51, no. 2 (April 1968): 102–125.

FortWiki. “Battery McFarland (Fort Armistead, Maryland).”

Hickey, Donald R. The War of 1812: A Forgotten Conflict. University of Illinois Press.

Pennsylvania Senate Library. “Member Biography: Abel McFarland Sr., Sessions 1811–1818.”

U.S. Army Center of Military History. The Canadian Theater, 1814 (War of 1812 campaign summaries).

Saturday, May 10, 2025

From Germantown to Ohio: Tracing the DeWeese Family Line

 Ancestry of Catherine DeWeese Jones

Source Note:
This narrative is based on The DeWees Family (Roberts, 1905), public historical records, and personal genealogical research conducted by the descendant and researcher, [Your Name]. The conclusions below represent the best understanding of the family lineage as of the time of writing.

Disclaimer:
The information presented here is part of ongoing research. While many names, dates, and relationships are drawn from well-documented sources, other connections—especially beyond the 4th great-grandparent level—may require further primary source confirmation. Researchers are encouraged to use caution when citing or expanding upon this tree. Corrections and confirmations are welcome as part of the verification process.




Ancestry of Catherine DeWeese Jones

Catherine DeWeese Jones was born on 19 December 1819 in Pennsylvania, and over the course of her life, she lived in Indiana and Ohio, where she died on 17 September 1900. She is part of a deeply rooted colonial American family, tracing her DeWeese lineage to early Dutch settlers who helped establish the Germantown settlement in Pennsylvania in the late 1600s.

Parents: Joseph DeWeese and Catherine Shafer

Catherine was the daughter of Joseph DeWeese and Catherine Shafer (surname also seen as Shaffer or Schaefer). Her parents likely lived in Pennsylvania at the time of her birth and possibly followed other DeWeese relatives in migrating westward. Joseph is placed as a son of Thomas DeWeese and Catharine Bissey based on family tradition and regional continuity, though further documentation is still being sought to confirm this definitively.

Grandparents: Thomas DeWeese and Catharine Bissey

Thomas DeWeese was born on 4 May 1770 and married Catharine Bissey on 5 April 1791. This marriage is documented in The DeWeese Family book and marks the beginning of a known branch that stretches from eastern Pennsylvania into frontier states such as Ohio, Indiana, and Missouri. While their children are not all listed in the book, this family is believed to have been part of the migration trend that brought many DeWeese descendants into the Midwest in the early 19th century.

Great-Grandparents: Samuel DeWeese and Elizabeth

Samuel DeWeese and his wife Elizabeth lived during the mid-1700s and had at least seven known children:

  • Thomas DeWeese (Catherine’s grandfather)
  • John DeWeese, who married Anna Maria Faust
  • William DeWeese
  • Elizabeth DeWeese, born 1777
  • Samuel DeWeese Jr., born 1760 (married four times)
  • Paul/Powell DeWeese
  • David DeWeese

This family remained centered in Pennsylvania but began spreading into Ohio and the western frontier. They were likely affiliated with the Reformed Church, a common denomination among early German and Dutch settlers in the region.

2nd Great-Grandparents: Cornelius DeWeese

Cornelius DeWeese, a farmer, was a key figure in the early DeWeese family history. He and his brother William DeWeese jointly purchased 390 acres of land in 1708 in what became Skippack Township, Montgomery County, Pennsylvania. Cornelius descended from Dutch immigrants and helped develop the agricultural base of the Pennsylvania interior. His line produced many descendants who were part of the 18th- and 19th-century westward expansion.

3rd Great-Grandparents: Gerrit Hendricks de Wees and Zytian

Image create by AI DALL-E Tool      

Gerrit Hendricks de Wees, the immigrant ancestor, came to America from Zaandam, Holland, in

1689, settling first in New York and then in Germantown, Philadelphia County, Pennsylvania. There he purchased land and became part of the early Germantown community. He and his wife Zytian had four known children:

  • Cornelius DeWeese
  • William DeWeese – a noted paper-maker and elder in the Reformed Church
  • Lewis DeWeese – settled in Delaware
  • Wilhelmina DeWeese – married Nicholas (Claus) Rittenhouse


Gerrit’s land and legal dealings are well documented, as is the tradition that the family name “DeWees” originated from the Dutch word for “orphan.” He and his children were prominent contributors to both economic and religious life in early colonial Pennsylvania.

Legacy and Continuing Research

The DeWeese lineage is one of notable continuity from the colonial period through the westward migration of the 19th century. The family’s legacy includes skilled tradesmen, farmers, and community leaders. Through this ancestry, Catherine DeWeese Jones connects directly to some of the earliest European settlers in Pennsylvania.

As the researcher continues to explore and document this family’s history, additional sources, DNA evidence, and regional records will be used to confirm and expand the story.

Sunday, April 27, 2025

What's in a Name? Tracing the Many Spellings of the Deweese Family Line

Let’s be honest — researching family history sometimes feels like trying to chase a greased pig at a county fair. And nothing proves that better than the Deweese family name.

You see, somewhere back in colonial Pennsylvania, my Deweese ancestors decided life wasn’t hard enough already. They added an extra challenge: a last name that can be spelled more ways than you can shake a stick at.

According to official records (and a few unofficial ones scribbled on the back of very old marriage licenses), you might find our family under:

  • Deweese

  • DeWeese

  • De Weese

  • DeWees

  • Dewees

  • Dewese

  • Dewesee

  • And if you squint hard enough at 1800s handwriting, even Dewis or De Wes.

Honestly, at this point, I’m just waiting to find a "De-Wheeze" in a Revolutionary War pension file.

Despite the spelling adventures, it all ties back to my great-great-great-grandmother, Catherine Deweese Jones. Catherine was born around 1820 in Pennsylvania, the daughter of Joseph Deweese and Elizabeth Shaffer. She later married James Jones II, and after his death, she had a son, George Washington Jones — my direct ancestor.

George W. Jones carried the Jones name forward, but the Deweese blood (and apparently the creative spelling gene) lived on. From Germantown, Pennsylvania, to Indiana farmhouses, to Michigan towns, the Deweese spirit — or should I say "DeWeesey essence" — stuck with us through every census taker who shrugged and just spelled it however they felt like that day.

So next time you can’t find your ancestors in a search because their name looks different, just remember: If it kind of looks like Deweese, sounds like Deweese, and resists every effort to spell it the same way twice, much like Deweese--it’s probably Deweese.

And if you’re related to me, it definitely is.

Monday, March 17, 2025

The Mifflin County Insurrection of 1791: A Fight for Justice

A Crisis in Post-Revolutionary Pennsylvania

In September 1791, the quiet town of Lewistown, Pennsylvania, was thrown into turmoil when an armed mob stormed the courthouse, intent on forcibly removing Judge Samuel Bryson from the bench. The attack was fueled by resentment, personal ambition, and a dangerous disregard for the rule of law.

As the situation spiraled out of control, the arrival of Colonel Daniel McFarland and his militia turned the tide, restoring order and ensuring that justice prevailed. The events of the Mifflin County Insurrection would become a significant chapter in Pennsylvania’s early history, illustrating the challenges of maintaining law and order in a rapidly changing nation.

A Conspiracy Against the Courts

The trouble began when Samuel Bryson was appointed second associate judge of the Mifflin County Court of Common Pleas. His previous role as Lieutenant Colonel of the militia had placed him in a position to influence officer promotions, and his opposition to commissioning William Wilson and David Walker as militia colonels led to their deep resentment.

Determined to remove Bryson by force, Wilson and Walker gathered a force of 40 armed men and marched into Lewistown with a fife playing, their intentions clear: seize the judge from the courthouse, force his resignation, and exile him to the rugged terrain along the Juniata River.

The Riot Breaks Out

As the mob arrived at the courthouse, Judge Bryson quickly folded his robe and retreated to an adjoining chamber, avoiding immediate capture. Meanwhile, Judge Story, another magistrate who had learned of the planned attack, attempted to sound the alarm but was intercepted and forcibly detained by the rioters.

The situation escalated as Wilson and Walker’s men stormed the courthouse, overpowering court officers and seizing Judge Bryson. It seemed as though the mob’s plan would succeed—until the next day, when the tables turned.

Col. Daniel McFarland & The Militia Response

On the day following the riot, Colonel Daniel McFarland arrived in Lewistown with the local militia, prepared to confront the insurrectionists. He delivered a strong address condemning the riot and declared that his forces would defend the judiciary at any cost. His firm stance immediately changed the course of events.

The rioters, sensing their impending defeat, began to waver. Their courage quickly faded in the face of McFarland’s unwavering force. Wilson and Walker, once emboldened, now found themselves isolated as their support crumbled. In a matter of hours, the insurrection collapsed. The court reconvened, and the judges issued a formal statement thanking McFarland and his militia for their swift action, acknowledging their role in upholding the integrity of the judiciary.

But tensions in Lewistown had not fully settled. That evening, another group of armed men attempted to storm the local prison to free the sheriff, who had been detained earlier in the day. Rumors spread that reinforcements from Tuscarora Valley were on their way, threatening to escalate the violence. Fortunately, before another confrontation could break out, news arrived that the sheriff had already been released, preventing further bloodshed.

The Aftermath of the Riot

The Mifflin County Insurrection was a stark warning about the dangers of lawlessness and unchecked ambition. Had it not been for the decisive action of Colonel McFarland and his forces, the attack on Judge Bryson could have set a dangerous precedent for Pennsylvania’s courts.

McFarland’s swift intervention ensured that justice remained intact and that those who sought to overthrow the courts by force did not succeed. His efforts not only ended the immediate crisis but also served as a reminder that the rule of law must be protected, even in the face of violent opposition.

Postscript: Identifying Colonel McFarland

The Colonel McFarland who played a key role in restoring order in Mifflin County was most likely Colonel Daniel McFarland of Pennsylvania (1731–1817). A seasoned military officer, he had previously served as a Commander of Rangers in Monongalia and Ohio Counties in 1778 and was involved in militia efforts during the Revolutionary War. He also had ties to Washington County, PA, where he helped establish Fort McFarland around 1772.

While there was another Col. Daniel McFarland from Massachusetts, his known activities were centered in New England, making it unlikely that he played a role in the events of Mifflin County. Given the location and military background of the Pennsylvania-based McFarland, it is almost certain that he was the leader who quelled the 1791 riot.

Sources Cited

  • The Mifflin County Insurrection, Primary Source Transcription, Freeman’s Journal/North-American Intelligencer, September 28, 1791.
  • Col. McFarland’s Role in the Riot, Philadelphia Gazette of the United States, September 28, 1791.
  • DAR Application Summary on Daniel McFarland, Nellie Elizabeth Phillips Trotter, Daughters of the American Revolution Archives.
  • McFarland’s Military Service & Land Ownership, Daniel McFarland Facts Document.
  • Biographical Records of the McFarland Family, Descendants of Daniel McFarland.