52 Ancestors 2026: A Brick Wall Revisited – A Curry-Spiced Breakthrough

 

I’ve written before about my 2nd-great-grandfather in my father’s side, Robert M. Curry. He married Elizabeth Ann Maddox but died near the end of the Civil War. It is still uncertain whether he was the same Robert Marion Curry who enlisted in the Union Army and was executed. As if this uncertainty wasn’t enough, for a long time, I kept hitting a brick wall when trying to trace his family further back. Still, there were a few clues. A printed Maddox family history noted that Robert had a brother who married his wife’s sister, Sarah. According to Find A Grave, his parents were James and Rebecca (Anderson) Curry.

Could this limited information point me in the right direction? Yes—and no. The proposed parentage was intriguing but led to another dead end. However, the Curry–Maddox connection opened a more promising path.

As usual, I began with what I could easily find: the census population schedules. Starting in 1870, I found Elizabeth, age 45, in Vernon County, Missouri, with her children but no husband. Moving backward, I located the family in the 1860 census, where Robert M., Elizabeth, and six children, all of whom matched the household from 1870. Looking further back, things became even more interesting. The population schedules also noted that the Curry children were born in Kentucky and that their parents were born in Virginia.

In 1850, Robert and “Betsy” Curry were living in the crowded household of Jesse Maddox in Monroe County, Missouri. This suggested a pattern—and a plan. Were there other Curry households in Monroe County? Yes, but one stood out: a household headed by Susan Curry, with five others bearing the Curry surname. Could this be Robert’s mother and siblings?

To test this theory, I went further back. The 1830 and 1840 census records list only heads of household and household members sorted by age categories, but by examining the later census data, I created a spreadsheet to reconstruct the likely household composition.  

Picture: 1840 and 1830 Census predictions based on 1850 and 1860 Census records.

Two Curry households appeared in Monroe County. One, headed by R. H. Curry, did not match well with the known children and included slave ownership, which did not align with the later economic status of the family. The other, headed by Samuel Curry, was a much better fit, with children whose ages aligned closely with those found in later records.

Up to this point, the research had relied on traditional methods—census records and careful data organization in a spreadsheet. The next phase, however, involved using artificial intelligence tools. I shared my findings with my ChatGPT assistant, including full census data and the observation that a John Curry and a William Curry appeared near Robert in 1860. John matched an individual from the 1850 Susan Curry household, suggesting a possible connection. My assistant recommended checking military records, but that avenue proved unproductive. However, adding Robert and Elizabeth’s marriage record and Elizabeth’s death certificate helped strengthen the working hypothesis.

The real breakthrough came with the FamilySearch Full Text Search feature. Thanks to their AI-powered indexing and transcribing of handwritten documents, I uncovered land and probate records connected to Samuel, Robert, and Elizabeth Ann Curry. These records provided additional names and relationships, allowing me to reconstruct the family with greater confidence.

One settlement record proved especially valuable—it listed the heirs of Samuel Curry and their spouses, along with a land sale to George Cunningham. That name stood out. Further research revealed a George Washington Cunningham married to Amanda Curry—whose parents were listed as Samuel and Susanna Devine Curry, who were married in Mercer County, Kentucky. 

That connection opened the door. I located an 1830 census record in Mercer County for Samuel Curry, with household members whose ages matched the known children. At that point, the pieces, including the Kentucky connection, began to fall into place. With the accumulated evidence, I felt confident enough—perhaps 87%—to reconstruct the family of Samuel and Susanna (Devine) Curry.

Picture: Reconstruction of the family of Samuel Curry. Three residents in 1830 could have been helpers, relatives, or children who left the household. Boy 2 in the 1840 Census could be a relative or hired hand.

There are still uncertainties. The birth year listed for Samuel in FamilySearch (1782) would be a few years too early according to the 1840 census but not the 1830 census, and there are many Curry families in 18th-century Kentucky to sort through. The age of the daughter who may be Sarah may be miscalculated in the 1830 census. But the nature of the problem has changed. I am no longer stuck at a brick wall—I am now in the confirmation stage.

Artificial intelligence tools played an important role in this breakthrough, especially in uncovering records that would have been difficult to locate otherwise. Still, human judgment, careful analysis, and a willingness to question assumptions were essential in bringing the pieces together into a more complete picture.

The search continues—but now, it feels like progress.

52 Ancestors 2026: A Family Pattern – The Great Convergence!

 

History may not repeat, but it often rhymes. In my genealogy research, I’ve noticed recurring themes—shared Reformed Protestant faith, the abundance of Davids in my Cossart/Cossairt/Cassatt line—but the most prominent pattern is migration.

Since the early 1600s, my ancestors from various European countries crossed the Atlantic to the New World for many reasons, from escaping persecution to seeking opportunity. I continue to be amazed that my family lines were present at the founding of Plymouth Colony, Massachusetts Bay Colony, and New Netherland, as well as in the early years of William Penn’s Province of Pennsylvania. From these footholds, and from other colonial settlements, they began to look beyond the eastern seaboard toward lands that were opening up—at least from the settlers’ perspective—while already inhabited by Indigenous peoples.

Thus began the westward migrations of my ancestral families. New England lines moved into New York and then on to Ohio or Indiana. Mid-Atlantic families migrated into the Appalachian regions of Pennsylvania and beyond into Ohio, Kentucky, and Illinois. Southern branches traveled through Kentucky and Tennessee. One line even set out along the Oregon Trail—though my ancestor, interestingly, was left behind.

By the time of the Civil War, certain patterns had begun to emerge. Several families—such as the Younts, Mayfields, Maddoxes, and Currys (more on them next week—stay tuned!)—had settled in Missouri, from the southeastern region to the north-central part of the state. The Maddox and Curry families eventually established themselves in Vernon County and were among the earliest settlers in southwest Missouri, an area that would soon be torn apart by the guerrilla wars. Meanwhile, other branches of the family were still living in Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois.

The war, however, reshaped these patterns. Afterward, the prairies of southwestern Missouri opened further for settlement, and many of these eastern and midwestern families continued their westward movement, ultimately converging in Barton County by around 1870. There, they put down roots—farming the land and building communities that would endure for generations.

Regardless of their sympathies during the war—Union, Confederate, or simply a desire to avoid the conflict altogether—these families eventually came together. The descendants of English, Scottish, Irish, French, German, Dutch, Belgian, and Swiss immigrants blended into a uniquely American lineage, rich with shared history.

In a nation that continues to grow more diverse and multicultural, we are all part of this ongoing story—from Indigenous peoples to colonial settlers to modern immigrants, and everyone in between. What unites us is not just our origins, but the ideals that continue to bind us together.

52 Ancestors 2026: An Address with a Story – Back on the Farm

 

I’m a city kid, born and raised in Buffalo, and I’ve always felt at home in cities—large and small. The walking, the buildings, the people, and the sheer variety of sights are endlessly engaging. But my family’s experience, stretching back many generations to the founding of this country, has been almost entirely rural or small-town—even including New York City back when it was New Amsterdam.

Growing up, the quickest way I reconnected with my rural roots was through occasional visits to Barton County, Missouri, to the farm of my (great) aunt and uncle, Ben and Mary (Fast) Hizar. It was there that I saw my uncles and cousins from my mother’s side of the family. We were sometimes there for the Fast family reunion or for the Fourth of July—celebrated in a place where fireworks of all kinds were legal and the open spaces seemed endless.

Aunt Mary was a teacher, and although she and Uncle Ben had no children of their own, she kept a wonderful collection of books for young readers. I was especially fascinated by the Golden Book Encyclopedia (encyclopedias being a major part of my childhood reading), written by that font of scientific knowledge Bertha Morris Parker, also the author of The Golden Book of Science for Boys and Girls and The Golden Treasury of Natural History, both of which played a big role in my early science education. On one visit, I even left behind my treasured natural history book—replaced the following Christmas—so she could share it with her students.

I was also captivated by a table lamp with a picture of a steam locomotive and a small insert that spun from the heat of the bulb, creating the illusion of steam rising from the smokestack. Yes, I was easily amused.

But beyond these small memories, it was on that farm that I first heard many of the family stories I now continue to explore through genealogical research—stories like Ben McWilliams’s Civil War experiences, including his ordeal at Andersonville. Being on the farm also gave me a firsthand look at daily rural life: feeding and milking cows, growing and harvesting crops. Since Cheerios were an important part of my father’s job and a staple in our household, seeing oats growing in the field was a special treat.

So this wasn’t one of my residences, nor is it a famous address in American history. It was simply a place I visited—a place where I connected with my roots.

Note: This also reminds me that I need to scan more of my Missouri slides so I don’t have to rely on photographing them off a computer screen and fixing them with Gemini!

52 Ancestors 2026: A Turning Point—Or Points

 

With so many immigrant and migrating ancestors—and so many who were called to serve their country—there have been many turning points in my family history. One story that stands out is the journey of my 9th-great-grandmother, Catalynje Trico, born in 1605. She and her husband, Joris Jansen Rapelje, were among the first group of settlers to New Amsterdam in 1624. In fact, her life is the subject of a historical novel I am currently reading, Catalynje Trico: A Life in New Amsterdam by Lana Waite Holden.

In many ways, her life included several turning points. The first came in 1623, when she left her widowed mother and her hometown in Hainaut, in French Flanders—then part of the Spanish Netherlands—at about seventeen years of age. As a Reformed (Calvinist) Protestant living under Roman Catholic rule, she faced the threat of persecution from the Inquisition, as did many Protestants in those lands.

After arriving in Amsterdam, she met a young man, Joris Rapelje, who was also a Protestant refugee from French Flanders and worked in the textile trade. The two married in January 1624. Yet even that decision paled beside the one they made just four days later—to board the first ship of settlers bound for New Netherland.

This Dutch migration differed from earlier Pilgrim migrations, which centered on established religious communities whose families often migrated together. The Dutch West India Company hoped to establish a colony in the New World that could serve both as a trading foothold and a supply station for ships; however, convincing Dutch citizens to leave their relatively comfortable lives in the Netherlands for the hardships of frontier life proved difficult. The early struggles of Plymouth Colony were well known and likely discouraged many potential settlers.

As a result, many of the earliest colonists were Walloon refugees—people who had already been displaced from their homelands but had not yet fully established themselves in Dutch cities like Amsterdam.

Catalynje, perhaps drawn by a sense of adventure—or perhaps by the feeling of never fully belonging in Amsterdam—decided to take the risk. She and Joris boarded the ship Eendracht ("Unity"), reaching the New World about two months later. After a brief stay near Fort Orange, they helped establish the settlement of New Amsterdam at the southern tip of Manhattan. There they farmed, gardened, and operated a small taproom that served patrons from many lands and cultures. The couple eventually had eleven children, including the first child born in the colony, Sarah, and also their fourth child, Judith, from whom I am descended. Despite the hardships of early colonial life, they became respected citizens of the young settlement.

Another remarkable aspect of this story is the Catalyntje was the only original settler who lived through the entire history of New Amsterdam—from its founding until the British takeover in 1674. Much of what historians know about the early years of New Netherland comes from depositions she gave while in her eighties. She died in 1689 and is buried in the Flatbush Reformed Dutch Cemetery.

It is fascinating to wonder what might have happened if Catalynje had chosen differently. What opportunities would a young refugee couple have found in Amsterdam? The decision to sail to the New World carried enormous risks, but it ultimately allowed them to build a life and become leading citizens in a new colony.

Her life—the hardships she endured, the many children and descendants she left behind, and her role in the earliest settlement of what would become one of the world’s greatest cities—all trace back to that pivotal decision to leave the Old World and take a chance in the New.

Photos:

Top: Catalynje Trico: A Life in New Amsterdam by Lana Waite Holden

Middle: Walloon Church, taken by author

52 Ancestors 2026: Changed My Thinking – Or, Thinking More About the Past

 

I wrote earlier about my grandfather, Stephen Reed, who had a troubling past—leaving his young family for one woman and then another. I reflected on his complicated journey and the family he left behind.

I have not researched the life of my paternal grandfather, Virgil Cassatt, as deeply, but I know he struggled with drinking and was not a particularly successful farmer. According to family lore, his father, David, had done well enough to provide land for his three sons, but they eventually squandered their inheritance. Virgil certainly started off reasonably well. In the 1910 census he was farming in Barton County, Missouri, but over the next six years or so he tried farming farther west—apparently in Idaho (where one of my uncles was born) and in New Mexico (where my father was born). Note to self: it’s probably time to start looking up land records in these places.

But sometimes I begin to wonder. Although I cannot excuse their failings or the hardships their families endured, I find myself looking more closely at the times they lived in and the pressures they may have faced. Farming has always had its ups and downs, subject to the vagaries of weather and market conditions that can make or break a livelihood. We often remember the dramatic stories of the Dust Bowl during the Great Depression, when drought and high winds turned acres of topsoil into clouds that formed dunes and buried houses and outbuildings.

While the Crash of 1929 and the Dust Bowl loom large in our historical memory, farmers were already struggling throughout the 1920s. Demand for farm products grew during World War I, driving prices upward, but beginning in 1920 those prices collapsed, leading to declining incomes and falling land values.

Looking at the 1920 and 1930 censuses, we find Virgil and Marietta (Yount) farming in Barton County, Missouri, raising five children. The family had moved around but had returned to Barton County. In addition to the stress of moving and the pressures of farming, the family endured personal tragedies. Two of their children died in infancy, and both Virgil and Marietta had lost several siblings—three and two, respectively. Sadly, many families of that era experienced the loss of children, and it is easy to imagine how such losses added to their burdens.

In 1920, Stephen and Ruby were also farming in Barton County, raising my mother. By 1930, however, the family, now six, was living in St. Joseph, Missouri, where Stephen worked at a foundry and, at some point, sold cars. Had they lost the farm during the difficult farm economy of the 1920s? Was the death of their first son, six-year-old Stephen Claire, from appendicitis in 1918 more than the family could bear? Whatever the reason, Stephen eventually left his family.

Yet the families carried on, likely through the strength and determination of Marietta and Ruby, along with support from relatives. Ruby and her children moved back to Barton County, where Grandma and Grandpa Fast provided a home and support while Ruby supported the family by teaching school. Perhaps Marietta possessed some of the resilience of her grandmother, Elizabeth Ann Maddox Curry, who kept her farm and family together through the turmoil of the Civil War after losing her husband.

Sometimes trauma can echo across generations. Although my parents faced hardships growing up and entered the workforce during the Great Depression, my own life felt comparatively stable—family challenges, certainly, but no alcoholism or wandering. Factory work was not easy, but we benefited from the economic boom during and after World War II.

I am not sure I have completely changed my thinking, and I do not want to excuse the weaknesses of ancestors who gave in to temptation. Still, perhaps we can better understand the pressures they faced. We often speak of how “resilient” our ancestors were, but perhaps the stories of their struggles and failures were not always passed down.

After all, they (and we) are only human.

Note: Thanks to Cousin Vicki for more insight, and stories, from my paternal line.

Photos:

Virgil, Marietta, and Alta Cassatt; Stephen Reed

52 Ancestors 2026: Conflicting Clues – Match? Doppelgänger?

 

In genealogical research, mix-ups happen all the time. Authors of online trees—and even published histories—sometimes confuse two people with the same or similar names. As I review my own locally saved tree and the larger FamilySearch tree, I occasionally find facts that don’t look quite right. Information is often posted without careful analysis, and the cited sources sometimes contradict the conclusions presented. In those cases, we have to examine all the available records before drawing conclusions.

One ancestor who has long interested me is my second-great-grandfather on my paternal side, Robert Curry. According to census records, he was born in Kentucky in 1830 and by 1850 had moved to Monroe County, Missouri, where he married Elizabeth Ann Maddox. In 1860, the couple and their children appear in Vernon County, Missouri, where several members of Elizabeth’s family had also settled. Unfortunately, this region of Missouri was in turmoil during the Civil War, with fighting between Confederate-sympathizing bushwhackers and Union forces. The violence even led to the burning of the town of Montevallo. By the time of the 1870 census, Elizabeth was listed as a widow raising her family.

So what happened to Robert? Did he become caught up in these events? At present, the most definitive answers I can offer are: He died—and maybe.

Starting with what we know, the 1860 census lists Robert’s middle initial as “M.” A written genealogy of his father-in-law, Jesse Maddox, states that Robert died before January 1866. Another intriguing piece of information involves a man named Robert Marion Curry, who enlisted in the 15th Kansas Cavalry, Company D. He was reportedly one of three men executed in the winter of 1864 and buried among prisoners or Confederates. The pressing question is whether these two Roberts were the same person.

Rather than accept the connection simply because it appears in numerous Ancestry trees, I put on my researcher’s hat. The middle name aligns with the census initial—but why would Robert enlist in the Union Army? And why in a Kansas regiment if he was living in Missouri?

Spoiler alert: I don’t have definitive answers—not for lack of trying. A search of Fold3 reveals no enlistment record for a Robert or R. Curry, except for one soldier in the U.S. Colored Troops. Since the 15th Kansas Cavalry was not part of the USCT, that record can be ruled out. Still, some interesting clues remain. Although many companies recruited locally, Company D appears to have enlisted cavalrymen from across the state. Vernon County lies on the Kansas border, so crossing state lines to enlist would not have been unreasonable. Moreover, the 15th Kansas Cavalry was used primarily to suppress uprisings in Missouri.

This leaves two possibilities: either the similarity of names is coincidental, or a man born in Kentucky to a Virginia-rooted family—whose in-laws were associated with guerrilla resistance against Union forces—somehow joined the Union cause.

Neither possibility can be dismissed outright. The first leads to a frustrating dead end (for now), while the second stirs the imagination. Was Robert pressured into service to fight against his neighbors? Was he a bounty jumper who deserted, was captured, and executed? Could he have been acting as a spy, gathering information and relaying it back home? Given his probable sympathies, it is difficult to ignore the possibility that he may have engaged in activity that led to his execution.

We may never know the full story. But that doesn’t stop me from taking another swing at this brick wall every few months.

Photos:

Grave photo: Find a Grave, database and images (https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/5851280/robert_marion-curry: accessed February 28, 2026), memorial page for PVT Robert Marion Curry (1831–1864), Find a Grave Memorial ID 5851280, citing Fort Scott National Cemetery, Fort Scott, Bourbon County, Kansas, USA; Maintained by Tom DeNardo (contributor 767).

Description: https://www.kansashistory.gov/resource/national_register/nominationsNRDB/Bourbon_FortScottNationalCemeteryNR.pdf

52 Ancestors 2026: A Big Decision – A Common Theme

 

Many of my ancestors made big decisions that led to major changes for their families and for the generations that followed. Their fates were intertwined with the history of our land—from a collection of colonies to a nation—as they contended with the forces that shape history. During our wars of independence and civil conflict, they had to choose sides. Many, like Peter Cossart and Christian Fast, fought for the Patriot cause during the American Revolution. Later, during the Civil War era, decisions were perhaps more personal, with some choosing to fight in the Union Army and others sympathizing with the Confederate cause.

Migration was another defining theme. My immigrant ancestors who arrived in colonial days settled close to the coast, but their descendants moved inland, becoming pioneers who walked the Wilderness Road or traveled the Oregon Trail. Even earlier, they had made the difficult decision to leave their European homelands and sail to the New World—most never seeing again those they left behind.

One common thread linking many of my ancestors was religious conviction. They chose to break with established churches and join the Reformed Protestant movement led by John Calvin (in French, Jehan Cauvin). These believers sought to emulate the early Christian church by rejecting what they saw as traditions accumulated over centuries. Viewing humanity as fundamentally sinful, they distrusted hierarchical authority—whether exercised by princes and kings or by bishops and popes. Unsurprisingly, this movement drew the ire of the established order, and these so-called “heretics” and “traitors” often faced persecution and even death.

In France, Huguenots were driven from their ancestral lands, fleeing to territories controlled by Protestant princes along the Rhine or to the Dutch Republic (Netherlands), which had embraced Reformed Protestantism after separating from the Spanish crown and the Holy Roman Empire. (As an interesting side note, the familiar hymn “We Gather Together” originally celebrated the Dutch victory over Spainish forces in the Battle of Turnhout, not a Thanksgiving feast.) Likewise, French Protestants in the Spanish Netherlands (now Belgium) sought refuge in the Dutch Republic.

In England, cracks appeared in the façade of the Church of England, accompanied by persistent fears of creeping Catholic influence promoted by certain royals. Reformed Protestants organized themselves in Congregationalist (Puritan) and Presbyterian (Scottish and Scots-Irish) forms of church governance, with authority resting in local congregations or elected elders.

What did this turmoil mean for my faithful Reformed Protestant who faced persecution by church and state? Staying put was possible, but rarely wise. Refuge in the Netherlands or German states offered safety, yet assimilation remained a risk. For many of them, the New World offered a more hopeful solution. Pilgrim Separatists established Plymouth Colony, while English Puritans founded Massachusetts Bay. There, they attempted to build what they believed was a just society—though fears of losing their special covenant led to episodes such as the expulsion of Anne Hutchinson and the Salem witch trials. 

Huguenots from France and the Spanish Netherlands found common ground with Dutch co-religionists and migrated to New Amsterdam, helping to establish a colony that was less austere but more commercially focused. The search for refuge did not end there. My Quaker ancestors settled in Pennsylvania, seeking religious freedom. Scots-Irish and German settlers also made their way to Pennsylvania, making their way into the Appalachian Mountains. 

In the young republic, some of the descendants of these immigrant ancestors participated in the fervor of the Second Great Awakening, with some even joining new movements such as the Shaker communities emerging across the nation.

Religious conviction was thus a powerful force in the colonial experience. One could argue that their suspicion of aristocratic and royal hierarchies contributed to the spirit that fueled the American Revolution, and that their reformist zeal inspired movements ranging from public education to abolitionism. I sometimes wonder whether my own attraction to nonconformity and the pursuit of higher ideals is a trait passed down through the generations since my refugee ancestors first found their way to these shores.

Picture: Anonymous (France), John Calvin, www.catharijneconvent.nl, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=82311289