A Small Act of Charity in Chautauqua County

A newspaper story about the adoption of twin babies and the difficult circumstances faced by their family

One of the goals of this blog is to place real stories alongside the names and dates that appear in family trees. Occasionally a newspaper article provides a glimpse into the lives of the people who lived alongside our ancestors. In this case, several small newspaper notices from Chautauqua County, Kansas reveal a tragic story that briefly intersected with the lives of my relatives Archibald and Misseniar Robbins Thompson.

The death of a young mother

In January 1890, the Cedar Vale Star reported the death of Mrs. Elrod shortly after she gave birth to twin daughters. The article describes a series of misfortunes that had already affected the Elrod family since their arrival in Kansas several years earlier.

Lost of team of horses

According to the newspaper, the father had previously lost his team of horses to theft. The following season a flood destroyed much of his livestock and even his expected crop. Another tragedy followed when his young son died after being severely burned in a household accident. Later, a fire destroyed the family’s home and belongings. The final and most devastating loss came when his wife died only hours after giving birth to twin girls.

Neighbors step forward

AI generated image of the adoption.

The newspaper also recorded an act of compassion by members of the community. Because the babies had been left motherless, neighbors stepped forward to help care for them. One of the infants was adopted by Mrs. Arch Thompson, while another neighbor, Mrs. Levi Winchell, adopted the second child. The article described the decision as “a true deed of charity.”

This brief notice provides an unexpected connection to my own family history. Mrs. Arch Thompson was the wife of Archibald Thompson, my second great granduncle. Archibald and his wife Misseniar Robbins were married in Arkansas in 1876, probably in Madison or Washington County. Sometime before the 1880 census they moved to Chautauqua County, Kansas, where they lived for more than twenty years.

A short life remembered

Three years later, the Cedar Vale Star returned to the story. By that time one of the twins had already died. The other girl had been raised in the Thompson household and was described in the newspaper as a healthy and beloved child who had “won a place in the hearts of her foster parents.”

Sadly, the article reports that she also died after a short illness and was buried in the cemetery at Chautauqua beside her mother. The notice ends with the image of a father burying his daughter after already losing his wife and another child. Although only a few paragraphs long, the story reminds us how fragile life could be for families living on the frontier.

The Thompsons after Kansas

Archibald and Misseniar Thompson continued to live in Chautauqua County for many years after these events. Census records show that the couple had three children, although only one was still living by 1900. Their daughter Mary Etta Thompson, who had been born in Arkansas before the family moved to Kansas, later married William Tresner and eventually moved to Idaho.

Later in life Archibald and Misseniar moved to Oklahoma. Archibald Thompson died in 1910 in Mayes County, Oklahoma. His widow Misseniar Robbins Thompson lived until 1931.

A Census Clue That Raises an Interesting Possibility

An additional record adds an interesting detail to this story. In the 1900 United States census, Archibald and Misseniar Thompson were living in Hendricks Township, Chautauqua County, Kansas. In that census Misseniar reported that she was forty-eight years old and that she had given birth to three children, with only one still living at that time. The census does not identify the deceased children, but it does raise an intriguing possibility. Because the Cedar Vale Star reported that one of the Elrod twins was adopted by Mrs. Arch Thompson and later died after a short illness, it is reasonable to wonder whether that child may have been counted by Misseniar as one of the children she had lost. The census itself does not confirm this, but the timing and circumstances make the question worth considering.

Putting faces on the past

These small newspaper stories do not change the basic facts of the Thompson family line. However, they do something just as important. They place our relatives into the community around them and reveal the kinds of experiences that shaped everyday life.

The brief mention of Mrs. Arch Thompson adopting one of the Elrod twins is only a few lines in a local newspaper, but it shows a moment of kindness during a time of deep tragedy for another family. For genealogists, these small stories are often the ones that bring the past closest to the present.

Sources:

• The Cedar Vale Star (Cedar Vale, Kansas), 31 January 1890, p. 2.
• The Cedar Vale Star (Cedar Vale, Kansas), 21 April 1893, p. 3.
• 1900 U.S. census, Chautauqua County, Kansas, Hendricks Township, Archibald Thompson household.

What’s in a Name? Apparently… Everything and Nothing at the Same Time

How Early Records Turn Perfectly Good Names Into Chaos

One of the great lies of genealogy is the idea that names are stable. We tend to approach records assuming a person has one name, spelled one way, used consistently, and recorded faithfully by every clerk, minister, and courthouse employee they ever encountered.

That illusion usually lasts right up until the first deed, census, or court record proves otherwise.

Lately, I’ve been living in name confusion. Not dramatic, soap-opera confusion…just the slow, grinding realization that early records treat names far more casually than modern researchers would like. And when you are trying to reconstruct families, children, and relationships, that casualness can feel personal.

Take Joel Webb.

Joel… or Joseph?

Most records I’ve found refer to my ancestor as Joel Webb. That’s the name that appears again and again, the one that fits the timeline, the geography, and the family cluster. And then there is one deed that calmly drops this phrase like it’s no big deal at all: “Joseph Webb, otherwise called Joel Webb.”

Otherwise called.

No explanation. No apology. No clarification. Just… there it is.

Naturally, this raises questions. Is Joel short for Joseph? Was Joseph his formal name and Joel his everyday name? Are there actually two men here who I’m accidentally merging? And to make matters worse, I’ve found other records for a Joseph Webb living in the same place and time Joel should be living.

So which is it?

Which is it? The name tag or everything else?

Here’s the thing that record-heavy genealogy teaches you very quickly: one record does not get to overrule all the others just because it sounds official. But it also does not get ignored.

When a contemporary document explicitly states “otherwise called,” that tells me something important. At least one clerk or witness believed those two names referred to the same man at that moment in time. That doesn’t prove Joel always used Joseph, or that Joseph was his birth name, or that every Joseph Webb in the county was secretly Joel. But it does carry weight.

What I do not do is panic and rename him across my entire tree based on a single record. Majority usage matters. Context matters. And sometimes the most accurate conclusion is not certainty, but caution.

Then there’s the sibling problem.

John… and Jonathan.

Another layer of confusion comes when looking at Joel’s children. Did he name one son John and another son Jonathan? Could those be the same person? Or is this just another case of clerks being creative?

Here’s where modern instincts can get us into trouble.

To us, John and Jonathan feel very close. Practically interchangeable. Surely a family wouldn’t use both, right?

Except… they absolutely did.

In the late 18th and early 19th centuries, John and Jonathan were understood as distinct names. They show up side by side in families all the time. Parents didn’t worry about confusion the way we do. Communities knew who was who. Clerks usually knew who they were writing about. And when confusion does happen, it’s often the record keeper’s fault, not the family’s.

So no, the presence of both names does not automatically mean duplication. It means I need to look for overlapping lives… shared land, shared wives, shared timelines. Names alone are not enough to collapse identities.

And just when you think you’ve sorted the men out, the women enter the picture.

Nancy… Nanny… or Fanny?

Joel’s wife may have been named Nancy. Or Nanny. Or Fanny.

Or maybe she was Frances and everyone just did what they felt like that day.

Nancy and Nanny are often interchangeable in records. Fanny can be a nickname for Frances, but it also sometimes appears when clerks hear something vaguely familiar and write what they think makes sense. Add in handwriting quirks, dialects, and the unfortunate reality that women appear less often in records, and suddenly you’re left squinting at spellings and wondering if you’re chasing three women or one.

This is where genealogy stops being about finding answers and starts being about evaluating evidence.

What I’ve learned (the hard way)

Here’s the approach I keep coming back to when names start misbehaving:

Most records matter more than one record, but one record can still matter.
Explicit statements like “otherwise called” deserve attention.
Names are clues, not conclusions.
People are identified by patterns of place, family, associates, and behavior… not spelling.
And sometimes the most honest thing a researcher can say is “this remains unresolved.”

It’s frustrating. It’s messy. And it’s also exactly what real historical research looks like.

So if you’re feeling confused because your ancestor seems to have gone by two names, or named children too similarly, or married someone whose name changes depending on who’s holding the pen… you’re not doing it wrong. You’re doing it accurately.

Names, it turns out, are both everything and not nearly enough.

Source:

Patrick Hanks, Kate Hardcastle, and Flavia Hodges, A Dictionary of First Names (Oxford University Press).

This is one of the standard academic references for English given names. It treats John and Jonathan as separate entries, with distinct histories and usage patterns in English-speaking societies. 

More Than a Reunion: How the Elmores Kept Their History Alive

Honoring the Past, Celebrating the Present, and Connecting the Future

Image created using AI-DALL-E tool

Imagine it’s the early 1950s. The summer sun is beating down, and cars are pulling up to a park or fairground. Out spill generations of Elmores—some meeting for the first time, others picking up conversations as if no time had passed. Babies are being passed around, teenagers are trying to sneak away, and the elders are standing off to the side, quietly watching and remembering. There’s laughter, storytelling, and an unmistakable feeling of belonging. Tables are covered with homemade pies, fried chicken, and enough side dishes to feed a small army. Someone’s passing around old photographs—black-and-white faces staring back, daring the younger ones to ask, “Who was this?” The stories start flowing, about hardships, triumphs, wars survived, and farms built from nothing.

Genealogists often dream of uncovering long-lost family connections, finding a piece of history that ties generations together. Sometimes, these discoveries come through census records, land deeds, or DNA matches. But other times, the most meaningful clues are found in something more personal—the stories passed down, the gatherings held, and the memories recorded in newspapers.

Stories That Shaped Us: Remembering the Elmore Pioneers

The Elmore Family Reunions were more than just an annual event; they were a living record of the family’s history, a time when descendants of Missouri’s Elmore pioneers came together to celebrate their shared heritage. For decades, these reunions were well-attended, bringing in family members from all across the country to honor their ancestors, including Elisha Elmore, George W. Elmore, Jesse Elmore, and John Elmore, who settled in Missouri in the 1850s.

Each reunion was a blend of history and celebration—a time to enjoy homemade meals, share family stories, and remember those who came before. Programs featured congregational singing, historical reflections, and even love letters from the past, allowing younger generations to hear the voices of their ancestors in ways that went beyond names and dates on a family tree.

These newspaper records of Elmore reunions give us a rare glimpse into who attended, what stories were told, and how the family honored their past. They remind us that genealogy isn’t just about finding records—it’s about understanding the lives behind them.

The Elmore reunions were a testament to the power of family storytelling, and the memories they preserved continue to connect generations long after the last gathering ended.

A Love Letter from the past

Image created using AI DALL-E tool

Not all stories told at these reunions were about war and hardship. Some were about love. During the 5th Annual Reunion, something special happened. Mrs. Tim Elliott, the granddaughter of Elisha and Isabell Elmore, stood up to read a letter. But this wasn’t just any letter—it was one written in 1849 by her grandfather, Elisha, to his sweetheart before they were married. Mrs. Elliott, the daughter of Noah Elmore and Arilla Jeffries, must have felt the weight of history in her hands as she read words written over a century earlier. This was her grandfather—not as an old Civil War veteran or a Missouri settler, but as a young man in love. I imagine silence fell over the crowd as she shared his words. Maybe some laughed at how different love letters sounded in the 1800s. Maybe others felt the deep connection between past and present, realizing that long before Elisha became the patriarch of a sprawling family, he was just a young man writing to the woman who would become his future.

These reunions weren’t just for the sake of tradition. They were living, breathing history lessons—through the voices of those who lived it. There were hymns sung together, reminding everyone of the faith that bound the family. There were sermons and benedictions, given by Elmore descendants who had become pastors. There were memorial services, honoring family members who had passed since the last gathering. And there were stories told, again and again, for the next generation. 

Though the reunions may no longer take place as they once did, the legacy they built is still alive in the stories we tell today. As long as we continue sharing, remembering, and reconnecting, the spirit of the Elmore reunions will never truly fade.

Houston Republican (MO)

Thu, Jul 13, 1950 ·Page 1

Am I Related to a Historical Figure? The Joys and Pitfalls of Genealogy

Uncovering Famous Names in the Family Tree: The Joys, Pitfalls, and Unsung Heroes

Image created using OpenAI's Dall-E tool

Researching family history is always an adventure, but nothing sparks curiosity quite like finding a

famous name among our ancestors—whether they’re direct forebears or distant relatives. For me, the thrill of genealogy has led to possible connections to Benjamin Franklin, John Hancock, and a confirmed connection to Daniel Boone through a great-aunt, Zilpha Lawson. While these discoveries are exciting, I’ve also learned that tracing famous relatives comes with both joys and pitfalls—and that the real heart of genealogy lies in the everyday people who paved the way for us.

The Excitement of Finding a Famous Connection

There’s something undeniably thrilling about realizing that a well-known historical figure might be in your family tree. It’s the kind of revelation that makes history feel personal—suddenly, the stories in textbooks aren’t just events of the past but part of your family’s journey. Imagine knowing that a distant uncle helped draft the Declaration of Independence (John Hancock) or that an innovator like Benjamin Franklin shares a branch on your tree. Even with my confirmed link, although through marriage, to Daniel Boone, a man who opened the frontier to settlers, it’s fascinating to think about how these figures shaped the country we live in today.

These discoveries also open the door to a deeper understanding of history. Instead of reading about Franklin’s inventions or Boone’s expeditions from a distance, I can explore how their lives intersected with the places, events, and movements that shaped my own family’s past. This makes history more personal and meaningful.

The Pitfalls: Myths, Assumptions, and the Burden of Proof

Of course, finding a famous name in the family tree isn’t always as simple as it seems. Genealogical myths and mistaken assumptions are everywhere—many families have long-held stories of being related to someone famous, only for deeper research to reveal gaps or misinterpretations. False connections are often repeated in online trees, and the further back you go, the harder it is to separate fact from fiction.

Even if a connection is plausible, proof is everything in genealogy. Without well-documented sources—such as wills, land records, or verified family links—it’s easy to fall into wishful thinking rather than solid research. That’s why I approach my Franklin and Hancock connections with caution—while the links are possible, I want to make sure I follow the right trail, not just an exciting one.

Another challenge is avoiding the trap of focusing only on famous names while overlooking the everyday ancestors who were just as important. It’s easy to get swept up in big discoveries, but every person in a family tree played a role in shaping the next generation, whether they were an explorer, a farmer, a teacher, or a soldier.

The Unsung Heroes: Honoring the Non-Famous Ancestors

Image created using OpenAI's DALL-E tool

For every Daniel Boone, John Hancock, or Benjamin Franklin, there were thousands of lesser-known individuals who worked just as hard to carve out a future. They may not have made it into history books, but they laid the foundations for the generations that followed.

Take Zilpha Lawson, for example. She may not be as well known as her Boone relatives, but her life and marriage to Larkin Barnes helped carry the Boone legacy forward through their children, including James C. Barnes, who moved westward in Texas. Likewise, the Lawsons, who lived and worked on the frontier, played their part in the movement of settlers that shaped the expansion of Missouri.

Even those whose names we barely know—women who raised large families in harsh conditions, men who farmed and built communities, soldiers who fought in wars without recognition—were just as crucial to our story. Without them, there would be no family tree to research, no legacy to uncover.

Final Thoughts: Finding the Balance Between Fame and Family

Discovering famous ancestors or distant relatives can be exhilarating, but genealogy is ultimately about honoring all those who came before us. The thrill of connecting with history through well-known figures like Franklin, Hancock, and Boone is real, but so is the value in uncovering the lives of those who lived in quiet determination, shaping the world for future generations.

If you’re tracing your own family tree and stumble across a notable name, embrace the excitement but follow the evidence. And while doing so, don’t forget the everyday heroes in your lineage—because, in the end, it’s their resilience and hard work that truly brought us here.

Daniel Boone: The Pathfinder of the American Frontier

"Image generated using OpenAI's DALL-E tool."

Few figures in American history embody the spirit of the frontier like Daniel Boone. Born in 1734 in Pennsylvania, Boone became one of the most famous pioneers of early America. He played a crucial role in the westward expansion of the United States, particularly through his exploration and settlement of Kentucky. In 1775, Boone blazed the Wilderness Road through the Cumberland Gap, allowing thousands of settlers to move westward, shaping the course of American history.

Boone’s accomplishments were remarkable, but his journey was not without struggles. As a frontiersman, he faced constant danger from both nature and conflict, particularly with the Shawnee, who resisted the encroachment on their lands. In 1778, he was captured by the Shawnee and adopted into their tribe, only to escape and warn settlers at Boonesborough of an impending attack. Boone also experienced financial hardships, losing much of his land due to legal disputes and poor investments, despite his significant contributions to westward expansion.

In his later years, Boone left Kentucky and moved to Missouri, then part of Spanish-controlled Louisiana, where he was granted land and continued to live as a hunter and explorer. However, even in Missouri, he faced land disputes after the U.S. took control of the territory. He died in 1820 at the age of 85, leaving behind a legacy as one of the most iconic figures in American pioneer history. Over time, books and stories exaggerated some of his adventures, making him a folk hero whose legend grew far beyond his real-life exploits.

Boone’s influence extended beyond his own exploits—his descendants and relatives played important roles in shaping frontier communities. Zilpha Lawson, daughter of Jacob and Mary Lawson, married Larkin Barnes, a descendant of Daniel Boone. Their son, James C. Barnes, eventually moved to Texas, continuing the westward migration pattern that Boone had helped establish decades earlier.

The Boone connection in the Lawson family history is a fascinating reminder of how early American families interwove their legacies through marriage and migration. Just as Boone paved the way for settlement, his descendants and those connected to his lineage, like Zilpha Lawson and her son James C. Barnes, carried forward the pioneer spirit, moving westward in search of new opportunities.

Sources: 

• Robert Morgan's Boone: A Biography (a book I am reading.)
• Online sources are available for further research:
• The Filson Historical Society.
• Missouri State Archives – Daniel Boone’s Final Years & Land Grants.
• National Park Service – Cumberland Gap & Boone’s Wilderness Road

A Ruined Lady: The Tragic Story of Kitty O’Brien

When Reputation Meant Everything 

(updated 2/25/25)

Full Transcript below

It’s easy to romanticize the past, imagining a time when people were more honest, virtuous, and morally upright. But history tells a different story. The truth is, many of our ancestors were simply skilled at maintaining a façade. Social expectations were rigid, and people had little choice but to hide their true selves. Today, with the unfiltered nature of social media, we see just how much human nature hasn’t changed—only the way we present it.

In the 19th century, societal norms dictated strict moral codes, particularly for women. Sex outside of marriage was condemned, and an unwed pregnancy could ruin a woman’s reputation, leaving her ostracized and without support. Women like Kitty O’Brien, whose story appeared in The Cincinnati Enquirer on November 10, 1893, faced not only public scorn but also personal devastation.

Kitty’s story is a sobering reminder of the harsh double standards women endured. After becoming pregnant, she was considered “ruined” in the eyes of society. But her tragedy didn’t end there—her child was taken from her, and what followed was a tale of deception, manipulation, and heartbreak.

Her case is worth a deeper look, but for this post, I want to focus on how 19th-century morality (or Victorian society) viewed women in Kitty’s position. How did she perceive her own actions? Did she feel regret, defiance, or simply resignation? And how do we, looking back, interpret her story today?

"The past may seem distant, but stories like Kitty O’Brien’s challenge us to consider how we view the lives and choices of those who came before us. While we may strive to understand them within the context of their time, it’s impossible not to filter their experiences through our own perspectives. Kitty’s story, like so many others, reminds us that history isn’t just about dates and events—it’s about real people navigating the expectations and limitations of their world."

Here is the full transcription of the newspaper article:

KITTY O'BRIEN

Asks the Police To Find Her Babe

Which the Records Show Was Buried in the Mt. Washington Cemetery.

Kitty O’Brien, the music teacher, called on Chief Deitsch yesterday, and told him that she thought her baby was alive, and was being used to blackmail some one.

Kitty, it will be remembered, figured in a sensation some months ago. She lived at No. 190 Mound street a year ago, and made a living by giving piano lessons. There she met Rena Gelwichs, who had a flat at No. 301 Central avenue. She visited the flat, and met several gentlemen there. One of them, she says, was Captain Powers, formerly one of the proprietors of the New Era Restaurant, on Vine street. She claims that he got her drunk and ruined her.

Last July she found that she was about to become a mother, so she called the Captain to account. The result was that she was sent to Mrs. Shaw’s house, at No. 1616 Eastern avenue. There her child was born. Kitty says that she never saw the child, and Mrs. Shaw told her that it was dead. Kitty now says that her brother wrote to her and told her that he had received a letter from some one saying that the child was not dead, but was being used by some one for black-mailing purposes. If the child was alive, she wanted it. Detective Crawford was detailed on the case, and he made an investigation. He found from the records in the Health Office that the child was still-born and had been buried by Undertaker Watkins, and was interred in the cemetery in Mt. Washington. The certificate was signed by Dr. Countryman.

Kitty says that she never received a cent of money from Captain Powers, and that her brother paid all her expenses. She claims that Rena Gelwichs, who is now in Dayton, received money from Sam Conn, of Winchester, Ky., to pay Kitty’s expenses, and that he paid it for the Captain. Rena paid it to Mrs. Shaw, and the result was that Mrs. Shaw received double pay for her services as nurse.

Chief Deitsch will investigate further.

Source: The Cincinnati Enquirer, November 10, 1893.

1897 and False Predictions

I guess every generation has its naysayers and doomsday prophets.  Here is an article from the Nevada Daily Mail that struck my interest.  Not for the false prediction-the world didn’t end in 1900--I don’t find that unusual.  It struck my curiosity because of when it occurred (1897) and where the prophet hailed from (La Porte, Indiana).

Fast forward many years—10 Feb. 1961 to be exact.  It was then a son of Royal Peterson (my father) and my mother (born in La Porte County, IN) were united in marriage.  Nothing unusual about that but it just struck my fancy.  Here is the original article:

 Nevada Daily Mail (Missouri), 20 March 1897