A Murder in the Mystery Family

The Martins and the Dean Families

Who Are These Martins?

Eastern Kentucky and the Civil War

1850 United States Federal Census for Morgan County, Kentucky

Family Number: 365

Household Members:

Pleas Martin 38 (”Pleasant”)

Martha Martin 36

John Martin 16

William Martin 13

George Martin 11

Nancy Martin 10

Lucinda Martin 8

Elizabeth Martin 5

Angeline Martin 1

Elizabeth Jenkins 24 (Betsey, my 2nd Great Grandmother)

I'm still uncertain of the relationship between the Martins and the Dean.  They appear, in online records, to travel together.  Pleasant Martin was born in Tennessee, as was my 2nd great grandfather Elisha and his brother Daniel Dean, who later became a Martin.  I'm still questioning whether Elisha's mother, Elizabeth Dean, was married to a Martin before she became a Dean.

During this time period we're looking at, a well known fact is that families moved together to new cities and states. Most of the information people got back then was by word of mouth, and hearing of a better place to live and raise your crops and your family, they’d pack up their meager belongings and set out on foot or wagon for that lush green meadow others talked about.  Kentucky in the early 1800s was one such place.

The Martin family could have just been neighbors of Elizabeth Dean and her family in 1850, and Betsey may have been a maid or nanny for the Martins. Pleasant and his wife had seven children that year of the census and clearly could have used some domestic help.

Researching Pleasant Martin revealed, first of all, that the name “Pleasant” was not as unique as I’d thought. There were quite a few Pleasants in the records.

The next bit of information that surfaced for my ancestors' neighbor was that he was murdered in 1863 by the “Rebels,” he and a fellow named Reason Grayson, as told in a letter I found online.

A Civil War Letter from Henry Hurst to his brother William

Mt. Sterling, Kentucky October 7, 1863 Dear Brother: I received your letter yesterday and it gave me great pleasure to hear that you were well. I have not heard from father since Daniel wrote you; but I suppose he is on the mend. There has been a terrible crime committed here and I will tell you about it. The Rebels ran into Camargo and caught Pleasant Martin, Asbury Nickell, a son of Spaniard Nickell, Charles Little, a son of Phillip Little, Reason Grayson and Robert Nickell. They took them to Sycamore bridge near Ticktown and lined them up and told them they were going to parole them. They had them cross their hands on their breasts, telling them they were about to administer the oath; but instead they placed their guns against them and fired. All were killed dead except Robert Nickell who was shot near the right nipple, the bullet came out about five inches lower in the back. He fell off into the creek and they fired three more shots at him, one bullet struck his arm. He played off dead and they left him. As soon as they left he managed to get to a man's house who came and let us know. We took him to Mt. Sterling and then chased the Rebels to James Gibbs' on the dry ridge, there they scattered and we lost them. I think Nickells will get well, the Dr. says he is now out of danger. This same crowd after the killing at the bridge reached the home of Jacob Stephens, they took his pocket book with about $30.00 and shot him dead in his own home. They then went on and caught that man, Jenkins, who was shot so often. The treatment they gave him was much worse than death. They took all privileges from him that was allowed a man by nature and told him that if that did not kill him they would come back and finish the job. You wanted to know if Salyers and I had completed our job of enrolling. We have done all we can do without an armed force to assist us. We finished all except some of the Sandy territory when the Rebels got after us and captured our papers that we had finished and we had to do all the work over. We started in again and have about the same amount done as before; but they ran us out. We have made application three times for men to aid us; but they have not arrivfed. We are ready any time we can get protection. I want to complete this work as soon as possible for my time will soon be out, then I intend to go to some other country. I have of my present enlistment one month and five days yet to serve. Cockerell has offered me a 1st Lieutenants place in his Company which might be better than working with the Home Guards. Your Brother, H.C. Hurst

This was posted on  Ancestry  by laryssabeth on 7 Jun 2007.


The above letter not only tells the story of Pleasant Martin and others being caught by Confederate soldiers, it also gives us a look at what the war was actually like where our Dean ancestors lived.

Kentucky, trying to remain impartial in the war, had both Union and Confederate fighters. Obviously, we see Morgan County was Yankee territory, if the Southern Rebels captured Pleasant and these other fellows.

I feel it's too much of a coincidence that the Martins live one farm over from the Deans, and one of the Dean residents ends up changing his name to Martin, and a girl who ends up being my 2nd great grandmother lives with the Martins.  The fact that they all appear to come from the same place before settling in Morgan County, Kentucky, is also a factor.

Too much of a coincidence is all I can think. The research continues as the book goes on.

Elisha Dean: The Civil War

James Dean (1780-1862) m. Elizabeth Dean

 3rd Great  Grandparents

|

Elisha Dean (1825-?)  m. Sarah Elizabeth (Betsy) Jenkins

 2nd Great Grandparents

   

Kentucky's Role in the Civil War.
http://www.ket.org/civilwar/kyrole.html

In 1860, when the census people came around, Elizabeth’s supposed son Daniel Dean, now goes by the last name Martin.  Looks like Daniel had a different father than Elisha, meaning their mother, Elizabeth was married first to a Martin and then to a Dean, before she gave birth to Elisha.

…or she was not married to a Martin, and Daniel is somebody else’s son?

An exhaustive search for Daniel Martin’s father has turned up nothing.  And more people than me are looking for him.  None of the other Martin or Dean family trees have a father for Daniel, but his mother is listed as Elizabeth Martin-Dean.  I don’t think anyone knows Elizabeth’s maiden name. Still the Shady Lady.

I went back to the 1850 census and looked at every name on the page, and I was surprised to find two Martin families living in the next two houses after Elizabeth Dean and her two sons.  The dwelling  numbers run consecutively 364, 365, and 366.

Number 365 is the home of Pleasant Martin, born in Tennessee in 1812.  One of the residents in his home is not a Martin.  She is Elizabeth Jenkins, age 26, born in North Carolina.

 Elizabeth Jenkins becomes my 2nd great grandmother.

Are these Martins related to Daniel Dean Martin, who lives in Elizabeth’s house, a half-brother of my 2nd great grandfather Elisha?

Why was he listed  as a Dean in 1850?

You have to study a lot of records, especially the census, to understand how many mistakes are made on these old documents.  Many times the census takers “assumed” facts on their own.  Sometimes families claimed children who might be just related to them, a niece or nephew perhaps, who was living with them at the time.  Anything was possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aside from Daniel Dean turning into a Martin, the 1860 Census lists new residents in the Dean home.

• Mary L. Martin, age 7, born in Kentucky, who I believe is the daughter of Daniel.
• Elizabeth Jenkins, now age 30, born in North Carolina.  She has moved from the Martin household to live with the Deans.
• James N. Jenkins, age nine, who is Elizabeth Jenkins’ son.  

Little nine-year-old James N. Jenkins becomes James Newton Dean, after his mother marries my 2nd Great Grandfather Elisha, and he remained Elisha’s son until his death on July 26, 1927 in Kankakee, Illinois.

James Newton Dean, Great Grand Uncle

1862-1927

Elizabeth did not age much in 10 years, from one census to the next.  She was 26 in 1850 and is now only 30, in 1860.   Census records don’t always add up right, and a lot of people did not know their actual birth dates.  They were born at home.  Many didn’t have birth certificates.

The Martin families are no longer next-door neighbors in 1860, though they remain in Division 2, Morgan County. Was Daniel related to them?  Was it merely coincidence that he had the same last name as the people in the next two houses?  Maybe it was.  No research has turned up any connection with them, but I've never given up on finding Daniel's real father.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On October 3, 1863, the Civil War has been going on for two years, and Elisha, age 40, is drafted in Morgan County, Kentucky.  I wonder if he and Elizabeth Jenkins were married before he left for duty, and her son James was given the Dean name.

3rd from top, Elisha’s draft record, Kentucky 9th Congressional Distsrict, Sub-District No. 6

Kentucky was a neutral state in the war, or at least they’re said to be, but hot sentiments ran deep both for Confederates and the Union.  “Brother against brother,” is a familiar description of Kentucky.

Kentucky was one of the "border states" in the Civil War, both geographically and politically. It was situated on the dividing line between the northern and southern regions of the United States. And it was one of only a few slave states that opted to stay in the Union. Though the Commonwealth was officially neutral, its citizens were deeply divided over the issues that caused the Civil War, and over the war itself -- a division symbolized by the fact that both Civil War presidents, Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis, were Kentucky native sons.~http://www.ket.org/civilwar/kyrole.html

I haven’t found a record I could validate for Elisha fighting in any of the battles, but I uncovered some possibilities, one being an Elisha Dean in Clinch’s Light Artillery Regiment in Georgia, which was definitely fighting for the Confederacy.  The birth dates and state of origin are not listed for the men, so it’s hard to know if this is a serious possibility.

Despite Elisha being from Kentucky,  he may have ended up in a heavy Confederate State, regardless of  his personal sentiments or loyalty.  He might have been fighting for Dixie.

This same Elisha Dean, fighting for Georgia, was taken prisoner of war.

Civil War Prisoner of War Records, 1861-1865 about Elisha Dean
Name: Elisha Dean
Side: Confederate
Roll: M598_114
Roll Title:  Selected Records of the War Department Relating to Confederate Prisoners of War, 1861-1865

This POW Elisha, was in the 80th Cavalry, captured at Waynesboro on December 4, 1864, and released on June 10, 1865.

Another interesting fact is that Cincinnati came across the Ohio River in raids on some of the Kentucky counties, one being Morgan County, where the Deans lived, and where Elisha was drafted.  The Yankees took these Kentucky prisoners  back to Cincinnati and housed them in basements of buildings.  Sub-District Number 6 was one of those units captured in a raid on Morgan County, though I can’t find Elisha’s name on the list of prisoners.

Was he shipped off to Georgia?  Was he defending Morgan County in some capacity?  Questions I still want to answer.

But the second edit continues.




 

Shady Lady

Early 1800s Methodist Camp Meeting in the Colonies, when my 3rd great grandmother
 was in her 20s

I've been searching for any info on Elizabeth Dean, my 3rd Great Grandmother for two years.  She has stayed at the top of the Dean Family Tree as the earliest ancestor so far, born in 1785, in Virginia.

I did some research on Virginia in the 1700s and early 1800s to add a little local flavor to Elizabeth's story, especially since I have no photos of her or her gravestone.  

Rolling a "Hogs-Head" barrel  of tobacco to the pier.  Growing tobacco in Virginia
became so popular as a money-maker, depleting the soil eventually,
so early settlers torn their houses down and moved farther inland
 to continue growing  their tobacco in its space.

What information I do have on Elizabeth begins with the 1850 census for Morgan County, Kentucky, where she is a 65-year-old farmer who owns $1,000 worth of real estate and has two sons, Elisha Dean, age 24, and Daniel Dean, age 35. Elizabeth says she was born in Virginia and both sons were born in Tennessee.

 Daniel's last name would change over the next 10 years, adding even more problems in figuring out these early Dean ancestors.  Elisha Dean proves indeed to be my 2nd great grandfather.

There are several other solid brick walls concerning these early Dean ancestors I am trying to break through, while still editing the rest of the book's chapters.

No mention of a husband for Elizabeth was made on the 1850 census.

Is she the widow of a Dean husband, or did she not marry, and Dean is her own surname?

I have turned up nothing over the past several years to answer that question.  No marriage record, no parents listed anywhere.

Until this week, when one of my several-times removed Dean cousins also researching the family added a husband for Elizabeth.  James Dean, born 1870 in Pennsylvania, died in 1862 in Rockingham, Virginia.

Elisha was born in 1824.  His father was still alive?

Something about this just doesn't ring true for me, but I added James next to Elizabeth up there on the top of the Dean tree.  And there he will stay until proven a mistake.

James Dean (abt 1780 - 1862), m. Elizabeth Dean (abt 1875 - before 1870)

Elisha Dean, abt 1826 - ? 

Daniel Dean, abt 1815 - ? 

 

And now I continue editing the other chapters and leave this first chapter as it is above.

Five Life Lessons

Lynn, our fearless leader of the Family History Writing Challenge this month, and owner of The Armchair Genealogist,  gave us a challenge today that I readily accept.

"Write about these 5 life lessons that you have identified in, your family history research."

Sitting on a stranger's tombstone in Old St. Joseph's Cemetery, looking up
a date on my laptop.  

1.  First, Above all, Never Give Up.  

I've learned that I can achieve a lot more than I thought, including some things I thought were impossible,  if  I  just stick with it.   

2.  Procrastination is Not an Option.  

I've made myself be accountable, and that's been hard for this wanna-be Scarlet O'Hara, "I'll think about it tomorrow."

3.  Don't Judge Anyone Whose Path You've Never Walked.  

My ancestors who appear from the documented facts to have done things I might not approve of did what they had to do, what they needed to do, or chose to do, at the time.  My family is not perfect.  Whose is?

4.  I am a Descendant of Strong and Brave People.

My ancestors definitely got out of their comfort zones to make a better life  for themselves and their families.  The made the hard choices.  They took chances.  The explored new paths.  Have I done that in my own life?  Yes, I have.  Maybe it's because of those whose blood I share.  That makes me proud.

5.  Gratitude.

What You Don't Like Sometimes Makes You Stronger.  There was a time when I blamed my family for my less-than-perfect childhood.  As I've gone back over these early memories, the hurts, the insecurities, the scary things, the unfairness, I realize I survived.  I was loved.  I was blessed to have people who took care of me when the times were tough.  

I had some Awesome Role Models! 

A Thousand Miles Away

From the Mt. Auburn Years



A Thousand Miles Away



After we’d sold our house on Sander Street to the University, we moved to Mt. Auburn, 123 Inwood Place, about a mile from our old house.

In 1957, the little white houses on Inwood Place stood neat and proud down the left side of the narrow street. On the right side, was the Children’s Convalescent Home with its jail-like metal fence to keep the pale, sickly kids from escaping onto our street.

Several years ago, Gary and I drove to Inwood Place  to get a photo for my albums, and this is what we saw.

123 Inwood Place, over 40 years later

I was shocked that the street and its houses had deteriorated to this degree.  Driving to the end of the street toward Inwood Park, the place began appearing like a war-torn foreign village.

When we’d first moved here, I remember thinking of one of my favorite fifties’ tunes “A Thousand Miles Away,” and that’s how I felt, so far away from my old home and my childhood friends, all the kids in my class at St. George School.

I was still a child when we moved. It didn’t take long for me to turn into a street-savvy teenager here in this new neighborhood.

I remember having the daylights scared out of me on one of my first walks through the park on my way home from school when a tall boy with a blond crewcut, looking about 18, stepped out in front of me on the path and put his hand on my shoulder.

The path through the park led down from Hollister Street into a hollow and then back up to the baseball field and steps leading up to Inwood Place.  My attacker must have been lurking in some of the bushes.

It didn’t take me but a second to do what I’d been taught: I screamed at the top of my lungs, aimed my knee toward his groin, and took off running for all I was worth.

As I was sprinting up the hill, a troop of Brownies with their leader were walking down the path. I didn’t pause to explain why I’d just screamed. I never slowed down one bit. I just flew by them and ran across the baseball field and up the steps and didn’t stop until I was inside my front door.

I wasn’t the only one who’d gotten in trouble crossing through the park. My new friend, Jackie, up the street from us on Inwood Place, had a man expose himself to her as she was walking the path. Even my father got jumped late one night in the same spot and came home minus his wallet and with a bloody nose.

Life had moved up a notch on the danger scale with our move from Sander Street.

Nice as our little street looked, one street over, behind our back yards, was Glencoe Place and tenement houses occupied by poor families, and a little grocery store where my mother shopped on credit.

Rats come up from there, through our back yards. One big one made its way into our kitchen bread drawer, and when my mom went to open it one morning to make toast, the ugly rodent jumped out.

Mom made my father nail the drawer shut, never to be opened again, the entire time we lived there.


My new teenage friends in Mt. Auburn hung out at Dunbar’s Drugstore, across the street from Christ Hospital.  We drank cherry Cokes and real chocolate malts at the soda fountain and hung out on the corner by the mailbox.  The guys in the crowd had their own hot rod club, the “Dragon Wagons.” We girls were the “Dragonettes.” I am not kidding.

Yes, the boys wore black leather jackets and sported duck-tail hair styles. The girls wore jeans and big, white, man-size shirts  Girls were still required to wear dresses or skirts in school and at church, but we lived in Levi’s at all other times.

One Saturday afternoon my friend Jackie and I were drinking our Cokes at Dunbar’s, when two little girls came in, one older than the other. The biggest girl looked to be about 9 or 10, the little one about 5 or 6. The oldest girl helped the small one onto a red leather stool, ordered her a chocolate malt and pushed a quarter across the counter.

The small girl nearly inhaled the malt, and the older girl helped her down, took her hand and started to leave.  Then the older girl fell to the floor.

Jackie and I and the clerk rushed to the fainted girl, and before we could do anything, she opened her eyes and began to sit up.

In spite of our trying to keep her from moving, she said she and her sister had to get home, and she tried to stand up. Obviously she was still weak, and Jackie, a robust girl, well developed for her age, scooped the girl off the floor, and I took the smaller girl’s hand. The older girl directed us to one of the narrow, red-brick tenement houses on Glencoe Place.

When we arrived at their apartment, there no one was home. The place was shocking. Bare mattresses on the floor, an empty whiskey bottle on the stove and a pizza box dangerously close to the stove’s burners. Trash overflowing from a garbage bin onto the floor.

Jackie asked where the girls’ mother was, and the older girl said she didn’t know, nor had her mother been home in several days. Pretty soon we learned the girls had not eaten since they finished the pizza their mother left for them.  The older girl  held onto a quarter for an emergency and finally took her little sister to get the malt.  Jackie and I later cried, but not then.  Not in front of this amazing big sister.

We didn’t want to leave these girls, but we weren't sure what we should do.

Then Jackie said, “I know what to do. Come on.”

We told the girls to stay put, and we’d be back.

Then we ran to Jackie’s house and told her father, but he would not allow us to go back. He said it was a dangerous situation, and someone might come home and find us there and cause trouble. Instead, he went himself, after making a phone call to someone, probably the police or some public agency.

He made sure the girls were taken somewhere to be cared for.

We never saw them again, but I’ve never forgotten them, or the horrible conditions they’d been living in, with no food and no supervision. It was the first time I’d seen that side of life. We were poor, but we lived like rich people compared to how some of the people on the next street lived.

Glencoe Place in 2008, after a remodel.   Inwood Place started where the street sign is posted on the right and then curves to the left and runs behind the tenement houses. =

The fall after we moved to Sander Street, on October 4, 1957, the Russians sent Sputnik up into the earth’s orbit.  A bitter pill for America to swallow.   I turned 15 and had my first date and my first broken heart.

West 8th Street Years

Me and cousin Terry, obviously collecting beer bottles,
 while  I played tight-rope walker!  Not sure whose house
this was, not Sander Street.  Likely Aunt Clara's or
Aunt Dot's on West 8th.

While things could be crazy at my house when I was a kid, I was and still am thankful for my Dad's family, the Deans, who always picked up the pieces and put my life back together and gave me some wonderful memories.    I remember both of my aunts living on West 8th Street during most of my childhood, one on one side and the other right across the street. 

Aunt Clara and Uncle Ray's house on the left

Aunt Dot and Uncle Bill's on the right

I stayed a while at one house and then carried my bag across the street to spend time at the other house.  Aunt Dot taught me how to cook and iron shirts.  Uncle Bill wore white dress shirts to work every day, and they had to be ironed, so she set the ironing board up in the living room and I got to getting those white shirts ironed and hung on hangers.  I didn't realize it was work.

Then across the street at Aunt Clara's I also cooked.  She taught me how to make chili for the first time.  She sewed on the old treadle sewing machine she inherited from Grandma, and she liked to take in her own clothes to fit me.  She taught me how to apply make up and style my hair.  

I played with my younger cousins and did some junior babysitting too.

Aunt Clara with baby Tommy, her first child.

A few years later, Tommy on the far right.  From left, Billy, Ruthie, and Marylou.
Billy and Marylou were Aunt Dot's first two children.  Ruthie was Tommy's
younger sister.

1950s Dean Cousins:  From Left:  Cathy, Marylou, Susan, Ruthie with arm around little sister Jeanie, Linda, and Billy.
Cathy and Linda are Uncle Norb's children, and so is Terry, pictured above with me
Aunt Dot's Susan is new to this photo

An early photo of Uncle Ray, Aunt Clara's husband

with Grandma in the background

Aunt Dot holding Susan, to right Marylou and Billy

Party at our house on Sander Street

My First Communion -- Uncle Ray in foreground with

hand on my sister Donna's head

Especially fun in my Dean family were the parties.  Oh, how the Deans liked to party.  Besides celebrating every Catholic traditional milestone with table loads of food and buckets of cold soft drinks, commercial sized cans of potato chips and pretzels, and the ever popular beer, they also celebrated New Years in grand style.

This is an early photo of a Dean Party.  From left: Uncle Ray and Aunt Clara,
Aunt Janice and Uncle "Junior," either dating or newlyweds, Aunt Dot
holding baby-pobably Billy, Grandma with my laid-back father's arm around her and
his other hand on his beer.  Foreground left Marylou, right looks like Ruthie?

This had to be taken in Grandma's attic apartment on McMillan Avenue.  Look at the tiny windows.
And I think Uncle Junior is wearing his army shirt.  I can barely see a patch on one arm.  If so, he
and Aunt Janice are still dating.

 Someone said something funny!  Grandma with Marylou and Ruthie on lap,

Aunt Dot with probably baby Billy, Aunt Clara and Uncle Ray laughing,

Uncle Junior and Aunt Janice, definitely still dating, and Tommy in front.

And I love this one!

Grandma, Aunt Clara, Uncle Ray, and Aunt Dot!

"Prost!"

How to Write Interesting Family Histories

Found this gem a while back and pinned it to my Pinterest "Family History" board .  Decided to take a closer look at it today, and, as my Dad used to say, "Katie, bar the door."

Meaning, this is an awesome find!

Just reading the sample gave me more information on structuring my book, and then how to make it a lot more interesting to read, than almost anything I've read to date...and I've read more books than I can count.

Click on the book to go to the site where you can download a sample...best to download the HTML sample, as it is longer than the Kindle, though I purchased the book as a Kindle.

I have to holler when I find something that makes me happy, or something that's just plain good and affordable.  So here it is.

Now back to writing my, now, more "interesting" family history.