52 Ancestors: Week 10 - Changed My Thinking

 

How German Research Changed My Thinking

When I first began researching my family history, I approached genealogy with a simple goal: trace each line back until I found the immigrant ancestor. Once I identified the person who crossed the ocean, I felt I had reached the natural stopping point. My German lines—Simmons, Rexroad, and Arbogast—were no exception. I documented their arrival, noted their early American lives, and moved on. I never imagined that German research would become the area that most profoundly reshaped my thinking. 

My Family Tree with the German Surnames
Simmons, Rexrode, Arbogast, Huffman, Heavener, Moyers, Michael

That shift began several years ago when a fellow genealogist encouraged me to start a German Special Interest Group. I hesitated. Despite having many German surnames on my father’s side, I didn’t consider myself an expert. But he was persistent, and eventually I agreed. That decision changed everything—not only for my research, but for my understanding of what it truly means to study immigrant ancestors.

Preparing to lead others pushed me to take a deeper look at my own German families. I soon discovered that many of them were first‑wave German immigrants, arriving in America in the mid‑1700s. Their origins were vague, their stories incomplete, and their European identities nearly erased by time. Simply identifying the immigrant was no longer enough. I needed to understand where they came from, why they left, and what shaped their lives before America.

This realization led me to tools I had never used before. The Meyers Gazetteer helped me understand historical jurisdictions and pinpoint obscure villages. CompGen opened doors to databases, surname projects, and volunteer‑indexed records. Archion provided access to digitized German church books—records that became the backbone of my breakthroughs. With these resources, I shifted from “finding the immigrant” to “finding the village.”

Meyers Gazetteer

Once I located a village, everything changed. German church records revealed baptisms, marriages, burials, and entire family networks preserved with remarkable precision. My most dramatic success came with the Rexroad line (originally Rexrode/Rexroth). Using these tools, I expanded my family tree back five more generations back to the late 1500s, uncovering more ancestors I never knew existed.

Reckerodt Crest 

Along the way, I learned to read a little German—just enough to recognize key words, months, and church terminology. But even more transformative was discovering how effectively Google Translate and AI tools could help interpret old script, extract meaning, and confirm my translations. What once felt intimidating became manageable, even exciting.

Baptismal Record for Zacharias Rexerodt 

Translation by Chat GPT
February 22   -    Master Balthasar Rexerodt, a citizen and master blacksmith, and his wife Christina, daughter of Bastian..., had a child who was baptised on the 20th of the same month. The child was baptised Zacharias

Leading the German SIG has deepened this transformation. I now see the immigrant not as the end point, but as the bridge between two worlds. The real story begins in the village, in the church records, and in the centuries of life that came before.

What started as hesitation has become one of the most rewarding parts of my genealogical journey. German research didn’t just expand my family tree—it expanded my thinking.

52 Ancestors: Week 9 – Conflicting Clues

 

Lewis Holmes Davis – 1826-1891

My 3x Great Uncle

Lewis H Davis 
12th Illinois Cavalry Co E & Co I

As genealogists, we are often warned that sources don't always agree. We are taught to be skeptical, to cross-reference, and to never take a single document as gospel. But what do you do when an official government record tells you a man died in 1848, yet you find him drawing a pension for a war that didn’t even begin until 1861? This was the paradox of my 3x great-granduncle, Lewis Holms Davis.

The mystery didn't start with Lewis. It began with a search for his father, my 3^rd great-grandfather, Joel Davis. I was searching for evidence of Joel’s death, but the trail in Erie County, New York, was cold—no death records, no probate files, and not even a marriage record for him and Deborah Stephens.

Faced with this brick wall, I pivoted to their eight children, specifically Lewis Holms Davis, the third of eight. I quickly found a Mexican War enlistment document for Lewis. He was described as 21 years old, born in Erie County, New York, with hazel eyes and brown hair, working as a butcher. He enlisted on September 7, 1846, at Detroit, Michigan. However, the records delivered a devastating blow: a muster roll from late 1847 reported that he had "Died Oct — 47 at Perote," while another return stated he died October 1847. For most, that would be the end of the line.

Mexican War Enlistments - Left half
Lewis Davis - highlighted in yellow
Fold3, Registers of Enlistmen in the United States Army, 1789-1914

Mexican War Enlistments - right half
Lewis listed as Died - Oct '47 at Perote, Mexico
Fold3, Registers of Enlistmen in the United States Army, 1789-1914

While digging through Virgil D. White’s Index to Mexican War Pension Files, I stumbled upon an entry that defied logic: DAVIS, Lewis H., SA-20383, 24 Sep 1888, Kansas. The entry noted service in Co A 6th US Infantry and a certificate for service in Co I 12th IL Vol Cav during the Civil War.

How could a man who reportedly died in 1847 while fighting in the Mexican War draw a pension for the Civil War forty years later? The "official" death record from the Mexican War was in direct conflict with a later pension application. To sort out the truth, I sent for the full pension file.

The file contained an affidavit that acted as a master key, unlocking the family’s true history. In his own hand, Lewis corrected the "static" of the earlier records:

• The Mexican War Reality: Lewis explained he was in a hospital at Perote from May until September 1847. After leaving there to join his regiment, he was taken prisoner between Perote and "Publo" (Puebla) and sent to  "Atalisco" (Atlixco) in the interior for about four weeks. He was eventually paroled under oath and made his way back to Detroit, Michigan, by September 1, 1849. This explains why Army clerks, seeing him vanish from hospital rolls while in enemy hands, simply marked him as deceased.
• The Fate of Joel Davis: Lewis provided the breakthrough I had been seeking for his father. He stated his father, Joel H. Davis, died on August 23, 1835.

Lewis H. Davis personal Affidavit in Pension File
National Archives, Record Group 15 (Department of Veteran Affairs), survivor's pension (Mexican War),
app #20,383; invalid pension (Civil War), app #773,398, cet #525,428, widow's pension, app #529,056,
cert #391,526

• A Mother’s Trail: His mother, Deborah Davis, was living in Detroit when she applied for and received a Bounty Land Warrant in 1848 since Lewis had no wife, no children and his father had died, his mother received the Bounty Land Warrant for his service.
• Civil War Service: Lewis detailed his service in the "War of the Rebellion" from December 28, 1863, until August 8, 1865, in Co E 12th Illinois Cavalry. An 1888 document from the Adjutant General's Office confirmed that previous charges of desertion had been removed, and he was officially discharged in August 1865.

Letter from the War Department dismissing charges of dissertion.
National Archives, Record Group 15 (Department of Veteran Affairs), survivor's pension (Mexican War),
app #20,383; invalid pension (Civil War), app #773,398, cet #525,428, widow's pension, app #529,056,
cert #391,526

Lewis provided a chronological itinerary of his life, moving from New York to Detroit to Chicago, then to Montgomery Co., Iowa (Sciola), and through various Kansas locations: Nemaha Co. (Seneca), Morris Co. (White City), and finally Dwight. He died September 25, 1891, in Leavenworth Military Hospital, Leavenworth County, Kansas and was buried at Leavenworth National Cemetery.

        LEWIS DAVIS 
 US Army  -  September 25, 1891
Find A Grave, Memorial 561392, photo by Steve McCray

·        The conflict was finally resolved. The 1847 "death" was a clerical error, a common occurrence when a soldier was missing in action or hospitalized in a chaotic foreign theater. Lewis was very much alive, surviving the Mexican War to serve again in the Civil War before settling in Kansas. He even noted with some dry wit that he "never received only two months pay for Service in the Mexican War," which he received at Veracruz in early 1847.

This case serves as a poignant reminder to all researchers: when records point in different directions, the most detailed, first-hand account must be our guide. By refusing to accept an "official" death at face value, I didn't just find a soldier; I resurrected the missing pieces of my Davis family tree. 

The pension file of Lewis H. Davis did not only solve the problem of conflicting evidence; it provided the long-sought death date of his father, Joel H. Davis. With that vital information in hand, I was finally able to provide the necessary proof to apply for and be accepted into the Mayflower Society. Lewis H. Davis may have been "dead" to the War Department in 1847, but his 1888 pension file gave him—and my family history—the final, triumphant word.

2026 - The Big Decision: The Trial of the Odenwald Wizard

 Wilhelm Lautenschlager 1565 - 1632   

My 10^th Great Grandfather

The Theives' Tower
Michelstadt, Erbach, Hesse, Germany
The Theives' Tower was built around 950 AD. It served as a prison from about 1312 onwards

Michelstadt Tourism - Diebsturm - Stadt Michelstadt

In the rugged, fog-drenched landscape of 17th-century Odenwald, the line between medicine and magic was as thin as a mountain mist. For Wilhelm Lautenschläger, your 9th great-grandfather, this boundary was more than a professional challenge—it became a matter of life and death. Known to history as the “Wise Man of Güttersbach,” Wilhelm occupied a dangerous social space: a healer beloved by the desperate and loathed by the authorities

A Legacy of Healing and Lore

Wilhelm was not a "wizard" in the sense of fairy tales, but a man of profound natural intellect. He inherited his "Big Decision” the choice to dedicate his life to the healing arts—from his mother, a midwife whose skill with herbs was so renowned the nobility consulted her.

Armed with a precious herbal book, knowledge gleaned from Romani travelers, and a deep understanding of the forest, Wilhelm’s practice flourished. On some days, more than 20 people would queue at his door. He was a master of the local flora:

• Bear’s breeches for "dead blood" in children.
• Elderflower (Hollerstock) and "fire stones" for agonizing joint pain.
• Hyssop and walnut leaves for internal ailments.

Bear's breeches                            Elderflower                                     Hyssop

However, Wilhelm’s success was tethered to a risky performance. To satisfy a superstitious public, he didn't just provide tea; he analyzed the souls of the sick by peering through his eyeglasses at their shirts, "speaking" to the garments as if the patient were present.

The Conflict Ignites

As Wilhelm’s fame grew, so did the tension. He was not just a doctor; he was a finder of lost goods and a namer of thieves. This "Big Decision" to involve himself in communal disputes led to a violent fray with a man known as the "Old Egg-Buyer," leaving the man bedridden for months.

For the local priest, this was the final straw. Wilhelm was branded a quack and a servant of the devil. The authorities of the Odenwald—a region generally spared the worst of the era's witch-burnings—could no longer look away. Wilhelm was arrested and hauled to the Michelstadt Tower.

Michelstadt, Erbach, Hesse, Germany

The Trial and the Final Vow

Inside the cold stone walls of the prison, Wilhelm faced three judges. This was his ultimate "Big Decision": Hold his ground as a man of power or humble himself to survive.

During the interrogation, the judges tested his "supernatural" skills by presenting him with clothing from sick strangers. When his diagnoses failed to hit the mark under the pressure of the court, Wilhelm realized the gravity of his situation. In an era where "idolatry" often led to the stake, Wilhelm chose the path of strategic repentance.

The resulting judgment was surprisingly lenient testament to his genuine popularity or the baronial family's lingering respect for his mother’s work. Instead of the gallows, Wilhelm was sentenced to:

1.     Public Church Penance: A special Sunday sermon where he was the subject of the lesson.

2.     A Written Apology: A formal confession where he admitted to being "misled by fraudulent gypsies" and "following the devil."

3.     A Heavy Fine: A financial blow meant to ensure he would never again "tempt" the public with fortune-telling.

The Wise Man’s Choice

Wilhelm Lautenschläger’s story is a fascinating glimpse into a world transitioning from folklore to formal law. His "Big Decision" to sign that confession saved his life and allowed my lineage to continue. He walked out of the Michelstadt Tower not as a wizard, but as a man who had successfully navigated the most dangerous "spell" of all: the legal system of the 1600s.

Michelstadt Castle 

LINEAGE - Nancy Simmons - Paul Simmons - Walter Simmons - Andrew Simmons - Phoebe Rexroad - John Rexroad - George Rexroad - Zacharias Rexroad - Balthasar Rexroth - Balthasar Rexroth - Elisabetha Lautenschläger - Hans Lautenschläger - Wilhelm Lautenschläger

SOURCES:

Genealogy.net, Local Family Register (Odenwald) Family Report, Wilhelm Lautenschlager, KB Erbach/ Güttersbach/AL Klipstein, https://ofb.genealogy.net/famreport.php?ofb=erbach&ID=00011560L&nachname=Lautenschl%C3%A4ger&modus=&lang=de

Michelstadt Tourism - Diebsturm - Stadt Michelstadt

Von Banse, Heidi, Odenwald-Forum, Lützelbach, Germany:Heimatund Geschichtsverein, 2013-2016. Allen County Public Library.

 

2026 - What the Census Suggests -

 The Thomas & Eliza Larkins Family – My 3^rd Great Aunt & Uncle

Lineage - Nancy Simmons, Josephine Martin, Edward Martin, Francis Martin, Elizabeth Larkins, William Larkins’ brother& wife, Thomas & Eliza (Martin) Larkins

Eliza (Martin) 1836-1923 and Thomas Larkins 1824-1911
Photo enhanced withChatGPT

The 1880 Federal Census for Springwells, Wayne County, Michigan, appears unremarkable at a glance. It lists my 3rd great-uncle, Thomas Larkins, a 52-year-old farmer who, like many men of his era, could neither read nor write. Born in Michigan in 1824 to Irish immigrants, he lived with his wife, Eliza (Martin), and their four young sons: Thomas (10), George (8), William (5), and Edward (2).

However, a closer look at the ledger reveals a more complex story hidden in the small tick marks of the "Health" columns.

1880 Federal Census - Springwells, Wayne County, Michigan 

A Quiet Discovery

Every census reflects the concerns of its era. In 1880, the form included specific inquiries regarding physical and mental health. In column 17—the slot reserved for those "deaf and dumb" there are distinct marks for three of the four Larkins children: Thomas, George, and William. Only two-year-old Edward remained unmarked.

The realization was overwhelming. In an era with limited social safety nets, Thomas and Eliza were raising three children with significant disabilities.

To dig deeper, I turned to the 1880 Supplemental Schedules of Defective, Dependent, and Delinquent Classes (the "DDD" Schedule). This specialized census provides heartbreakingly blunt categories for the era: "Insane, Idiots, Deaf-mutes, Blind, Paupers, Homeless Children, and Prisoners."

1880 Federal Census Schedules of Defective, Dependent, and Delinquent Classes 

The supplemental record for the Larkins family confirms the diagnosis: all three boys had been deaf since birth. Critically, it also notes that they had never been institutionalized. In a time when many families were pressured to send children with disabilities to state asylums, Thomas and Eliza kept their sons at home.

Resilience Across the Decades

Because the 1890 census was tragically destroyed by fire, we have a twenty-year gap in the family’s story. When the curtain rises again in the 1900 and 1910 censuses, the narrative shifts from one of struggle to one of remarkable resilience.

By 1910, Thomas was 86 and Eliza was 76. All four sons—including Joseph (likely the Edward of the 1880 census)—were still living at home or on the family land. The most incredible revelation? Every single son was now listed as being able to read and write. Despite their inability to hear or speak, the Larkins boys had gained the literacy their father never had. They also possessed trade skills that allowed them to contribute to their community:

• Thomas: Farmer
• George: Cabinet Maker
• William: Bee-keeper
• Joseph: Brick Maker

1910 Federal Census - Springwells, Wayne County, Michigan 

A Legacy of Care

The 1880 census suggested a family facing a bleak future. However, the subsequent decades prove that Thomas and Eliza provided a home where their sons didn't just survive—they thrived. They learned to communicate, they learned to work, and they remained a cohesive unit.

The family’s journey eventually came to a quiet end in Detroit. Thomas passed away in 1911 at the age of 87, followed by Eliza in 1923. One by one, their sons followed: William in 1924, Thomas in 1951, George in 1958, and Joseph in 1972. Today, they are all buried together in Section L of Woodmere Cemetery—a final, silent testament to a family that stayed together against the odds.

LARKINS - Family Monument Stone
Woodmere Cemetery, Detroit, Wayne County, Michigan
Larkins Family buried in Section L

Sources:

1880 Federal Census (Population Schedule)

Tenth Census of the United States, 1880. (NARA microfilm publication T9, 1,454 rolls). Records of the Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29. National Archives, Washington, D.C.

• Specific Entry: Michigan, Wayne County, Springwells Township, Enumeration District (ED) 263, page 364C (stamped), family 246, lines 1–6, Thomas Larkins household.

1880 Supplemental Schedule (DDD)

1880 Schedules of Defective, Dependent, and Delinquent Classes. Michigan. National Archives and Records Administration (NARA).

• Specific Entry: Wayne County, Springwells, Enumeration District 263, Page 1, Line 1–3, Thomas, George, and William Larkins.

1910 Federal Census (Population Schedule)

Thirteenth Census of the United States, 1910. (NARA microfilm publication T624, 1,178 rolls). Records of the Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29. National Archives, Washington, D.C.

• Specific Entry: Michigan, Wayne County, Springwells Township, Enumeration District 163, Sheet 15A, family 283, Thomas Larkins household.

2026 - Favorite Photo

 Susan Phoebe "Susie" Simmons: 1890-1971 – My Great Aunt

This photograph of my great-aunt, Susan Phebe "Susie" Simmons, is a family favorite. Taken around 1894, it captures a four-year-old Susie sitting on the axle of an old farm cart, cradling a chicken with a comfort that speaks to her life on a West Virginia farm. Her neatly braided hair contrasts with a mended, well-worn dress—a visual testament to a child who was deeply loved and cared for despite the humble social conditions of the time.

Andrew Lincoln Simmons, Susan Lavina Cokeley Simmons 
and Susan Phoebe "Susie" Simmons photo taken about 1891
Photo enhanced with MyHeritage

Susie was born on September 4, 1890, in Harrisville, Ritchie County, West Virginia. Her early life was marked by sudden loss; just after her second birthday in 1892, her mother, Susan Lavina Cokeley, passed away at only 25 years old due to complications from a miscarriage.

Following this tragedy, Susie’s life took a different path than her father’s:

• The Household in West Virginia: Susie was raised to adulthood by her maternal grandmother, Susan Cokeley, and her aunt, Mary Cokeley. By 1900, census records show ten-year-old Susie living with them in Ritchie County.
• A Father’s New Path: Her father, Andrew Simmons, eventually moved to Missouri and later Illinois to serve as a Methodist minister. He remarried and started a second family, giving Susie several half-siblings she likely only knew through the regular letters they exchanged.

Susan Phoebe "Susie" Simmons
Photo taken about 1910 - Enhanced with MyHeritage

The year 1912 was a turning point for Susie. She married her first husband, Wade Hampton Riggs, and gave birth to her first daughter, Inez Virginia, the following year. However, heartbreak followed:

• Double Loss: In 1915 and 1916, Susie lost both her grandmother and her aunt—the two women who had been her surrogate parents since she was a toddler.
• A New Beginning: After a divorce in 1917 and the birth of twin boys, Susie found lasting stability when she married Harmon E. Webb in 1920. Together, they had two more children, Hosea Earl and Pearl Marie.

Susan Phoebe "Susie" Simmons Riggs and her first child Inez Virginia Riggs
Photo taken about 1915, Enhanced with ChatGPT 

Susie spent the next 47 years in Harrisville, West Virginia. She was a fixture in her community, eventually helping her daughter run a local restaurant. Though she outlived her husband and two of her children, she remained a resilient figure until her death on May 20, 1971, at the age of 80.

It is a striking coincidence that I began my family research the same year Susie passed away. While my father knew little of his West Virginia roots due to his own father’s early death, this photograph serves as a bridge across time. I often find myself wishing I could have sat with that small child from the picture and talked to her about her long, full life in the hills of Ritchie County.

Susie P. Webb born Sept. 4, 1890- Died May 20, 1971
Buried at Harrisville IOOF Cemetery, Harrisville, Ritchie Co., WV

2026 - My Breakthrough Moment

James Roberson 1773-1815 – Howard’s 4th Great-Grandfather

For more than 30 years, I had been searching for the origins of James Roberson, my husband’s 4^th great grandfather. I knew James was born about 1775 in South Carolina, that he married Martha Davis, and that they had three children before moving to Giles County, Tennessee. A probate record in Giles County confirmed that James had died and Martha was his widow, but nothing pointed clearly to James’s father or siblings.

Giles County, Tennessee Probate Record 1815
Estate of James Robertson

In South Carolina, I found tantalizing clues—deeds in Laurens County involving a John Robertson and a Basil Robertson, including one where John sold land to a James O. Robertson. I suspected a connection, but without documentation, it remained only a hypothesis. Census records placed Basil in Warren County, Kentucky, and James in Giles County, Tennessee, but the relationship between them was still a mystery.

Deed Records - Laurens County, South Carolina
James Odell Robertson / John Robertson / Martha Robertson

I even traveled to Bowling Green, Kentucky, to research at Western Kentucky University. A librarian there, who happened to be a descendant of Basil Robertson, believed our families were connected, but neither of us could prove how. Later, a Y-DNA match from a gentleman in Texas strengthened the case that my husband’s line was tied to Basil’s family. Still, the exact relationship eluded me. I began to think Basil might be James’s brother, with John Robertson of Laurens County as their father.

And then came the moment that changed everything.

One day, I opened FamilySearch to review Basil’s profile, hoping to find a deed linking him to South Carolina or Kentucky. Instead, I found something entirely unexpected: a probate record for a Basil Robertson of Warren County, Kentucky, born in 1745 and died in 1831. Not just one record—several. His children had contested his will, and the estate took nearly twelve years to settle. The documents revealed disputes over the sale of enslaved people and disagreements with the executor, one of Basil’s sons.

The probate papers listed all of Basil’s children—and among them was a son named James Robertson, married to a Martha, with all their children named as heirs.

Warren County, Kenntucky - Chancery Court Record - Heirs of Basil Roberson 
Martha Roberson, widow of James Roberson deceased, John, James, Reginal "Nig", Henry, Bazel & Nathan, sons of James Roberson deceased. Nancy, Elizabeth & Martha, Eleanor, daughters of James Roberson deceased.
-

There it was. After decades of searching, the answer had been waiting in a probate packet in Warren County, Kentucky. James wasn’t Basil’s brother—he was Basil’s son.

I sat there stunned. After thirty years of piecing together clues, chasing records across states, studying deeds, census entries, and DNA matches, the truth finally emerged from a single set of probate documents. It was my breakthrough moment—one I wish I could have shared with my mother‑in‑law, my research partner and fellow Roberson detective. She would have been thrilled to know that together, we had pushed the Roberson line back one more generation, all the way to Basil Robertson, my husband’s 5^th great grandfather.

Basil Roberson was born about 1749, likely in the Carolinas. Around 1770 he married Mary Ellen—her surname still unknown—and together they raised a large family of eleven children. Their first son, James Odell Roberson, arrived about 1773, and their youngest was born in 1790. Basil served his country during the Revolutionary War, fighting in 1781–1782 in the South Carolina Cavalry under Colonel Maham at the Ninety-Six District garrison. Sometime in the early 1800s Basil moved to Hardcastle, Warren County, Kentucky where he died in 1831 and several of his decendants still live. 

Children of James & Martha (Davis) Roberson 
As listed in Warren County, Kentucky Chancery Court Records