Genealogical digging may unearth Western roots.
Editor’s note: Many Wild West readers have ancestors who herded cattle, searched for gold or simply homesteaded west of the Mississippi. Today, thanks to the Internet, it’s easier than ever to learn about one’s roots, Western or otherwise. Here is how one California reader gazed back at the pioneers and settlers who came before her and was uplifted by the experience. We’re interested in hearing from others who have done their own genealogical research and found Western ancestors. Post your true tales of discovery at www.historynet.com/pioneersdiscussion-december-2009.htm.
Until I was past 60, I believed I was alone in the world, an orphan with no history, no family background, no stories to pass on to children and grandchildren. Then, one by one, I began meeting my ancestors and discovered a deep personal connection to California’s past. I struck it rich in ways I never dreamed possible.
I never saw my mother after I was 5 years old, and I have few memories of my father, an itinerant construction worker who placed me in foster care after my mother left. I was left rootless.
I had long since accepted that as my lot in life until a friend who was deep into genealogical research on her large family offered to help me find my own ancestors. They were within easy reach out there on the Internet, she said. And indeed they were, waiting to guide me on an absorbing journey through libraries, museums, government archives, cemeteries, even to old attics where family Bibles, photo albums and stashes of letters would connect me to my cloudy past. My online searches led me to cousins I never knew I had, and what a joy it was getting to know them. They had already put together parts of our family history, complete with corroborating records and photographs.
When I started my research, my expectations were low, as I suspected my ancestors, like me, had little to say for themselves. Still, I was curious about when they migrated to California and from where they came. It didn’t take long to find out. I remembered being told as a child that members on both sides of my family were pioneer stock, a fact I was able to confirm by visiting genealogical Web sites such as Ancestry.com, Footnote.com and Findagrave.com. What did come as a surprise was that my grandparents, their parents and their grandparents were all buried within a few miles of my present home.
One clue led to another, and before long a sprawling California pioneer family tree shot up before my eyes. My mother’s great-great-grandfather arrived in Los Angeles in 1849 with four children in a covered wagon from Texas. He and his late wife, who died in childbirth en route, were descended from families that settled in New England in the 1630s.
My other maternal great-great-grandparents were from Ireland. They came to San Francisco from Australia in 1850, looking for gold. Their son and his wife (my great-grandparents) later moved inland to Pioche, Nev., where he died in a mining accident in 1881. His widow opened a café to support her seven children and later returned to California, settling in the Mojave Desert, where her sons continued the mining tradition in Calico. A daughter ran the Stone Hotel in Daggett, a gathering place for family members.
On my father’s side is a woman from Utah who ventured to California by wagon train. She and her family were among the first settlers of the San Bernardino area. Her trail, in turn, led me on a side trip to Salt Lake City, where I discovered a very crowded branch of my family tree and yet another rich source of genealogical research in the form of the Mormon Church’s Family History Centers.
Military records verify my kinship with soldiers from every American war, dating back to a great-great-great grandfather who fought at both Bunker Hill and Saratoga during the Revolutionary War. Many other people I am related to took up arms down through the years, and I am deeply proud of them.
Ancestors? Yes, I have ancestors. Yes, I have a family history. I’ve met Puritans and Quakers, Catholics and Mormons, each and every one a part of me. What a thrill to be part of such an all-American mosaic. My only regret is it took me so long to meet up with them. My genealogy is a treasure I allowed to remain buried far too long. Since I started digging, I’ve filled three filing cabinets with letters, documents and journals, and I’ve built a library of books relating the histories of these families that have coalesced to become my own family.
It has been an exciting journey and represents a special gift I can pass along to my children and grandchildren. It is their story, something they can take pride in the rest of their lives. It is also something they can someday build on. The story never ends—every thread leads to another, often one full of surprises. There is buried treasure in your family background, too. All it takes to unearth it is curiosity and a simple search on the Internet.
Originally published in the December 2009 issue of Wild West. To subscribe, click here.
