52 Ancestors 2026: A Theory in Progress – A Sweet Harmony

 

One of my tasks this year is to update my local computer's genealogy database, beginning with the paternal side. I turned to my ChatGPT assistant to talk through my plan, including the pros and cons of wholesale downloads from FamilySearch. It suggested that I stick to updating my local tree by hand unless a FamilySearch tree was long and well documented (as many of my New England lines are), so I decided to harmonize my databases one measure—or rather, one generation—at a time.

That approach proved wise when a long Van Horne line began to crumble, revealing several generations with little or no documentation. When I moved on to the DuBois family, I paused to think more carefully. We have already met Jacob DuBois, son of Louis “the Walloon” DuBois and Catherine Blanchan, who was very likely one of Catherine’s children taken captive by Indians. Jacob had two wives: Elizabeth Gerritse Vernoye and, most likely after being widowed, Gerritje Gerretse Van Nieukerk. What do we actually know about these marriages and Jacob’s children?

At this distance in time, records are essential to piecing the story together. There is a marriage record for Jacob DuBois and Elizabeth Vernoy(e), dated March 8, 1689, which gives Elizabeth’s father’s name as Cornelis C. Vernoy. Jacob’s second marriage—presumably after Elizabeth’s death—is listed on FamilySearch as March 1690, but no marriage record is cited.

So where does the problem arise? My sixth-great-grandmother was Magdalena DuBois, Jacob’s daughter. According to FamilySearch, her mother was Gerritje Van Nieukerk; however, Magdalena’s christening record, dated May 25, 1690, lists her father but does not name her mother. Many records from this set omit the mother’s name, so I did not want to draw conclusions too quickly. Still, if we accept the FamilySearch timeline, this would mean a March marriage followed by a May birth. While short intervals between marriage and the birth of a first child are not unusual, this does raise red flags.

There is, however, another important clue. In the witnesses and sponsors column of Magdalena’s baptism record, the names listed are: “The Father. Annetje Vernoy. Louis DuBois.” This strongly suggests that Magdalena’s maternal family was the Vernoy family, not the Van Nieukerk family. Supporting this interpretation is a marker in the Huguenot Cemetery in New Paltz, New York, which lists Jacob DuBois (1661–1745), Lysbeth Vernooy (1662–1690), and Gerretje Gerritsen Van Nieuwkirk (1669–1739).

Gerritje herself had been widowed; her husband, Barent Janse Kunst, died on October 13, 1689, leaving her with a daughter, Jacomyntje. Magdalena would therefore have had an older stepsister, Jacomyntje Kunst, whose christening record from May 3, 1693 does include her mother’s name: Gerritje N. Newkirk.

So far, we have been working with names and dates, but these records allow us to assemble a plausible narrative. Jacob—who had survived Indian captivity and, along with his father Louis and other patentees, helped found New Paltz in 1677—married Elizabeth Vernoy in 1689 at age twenty-eight. Elizabeth was a year younger than he was. The following year, they welcomed a daughter, Magdalena, but Elizabeth died that same year, possibly as a result of childbirth. Jacob was likely supported by his family and perhaps by his late wife’s family as well, who were already closely connected through Jacob’s brother David, who had married Elizabeth’s sister, Cornelia. The closeness of these families is underscored by the fact that David and Cornelia’s daughter, Catryn, was baptized on the same day as Magdalena.

Between 1690 and 1692, Jacob married again, this time to the widow Gerritje Van Nieukerk Kunst. Magdalena grew up alongside her older stepsister and, over time, twelve half-siblings. Magdalena later married Peter Van Nest, and at some point the family moved from Kingston, New York, to Somerset County, New Jersey. There, their daughter Margaret married Francis Cossart, the well-known patriot who founded the Conewago Colony of Pennsylvania.

Two lessons emerge from this exercise. First, death was an ever-present reality in colonial America. Second, online trees—even reputable ones—must be confirmed with records before being blindly downloaded into a reference family tree. Next task: correcting the FamilySearch entries to bring the databases into harmony.

52 Ancestors 2025: The Name’s the Same — Not-So-Famous Davids Through the Ages

 

In researching my paternal line, one name appears again and again: David. Maybe it’s confirmation bias, but “David” seems to be the most common name encountered in my direct line; across all the variations of the Cossart/Cossairt/Cossatt/Cassatt name, there always seemed to be a David—at least until the late 19th century. Why David? The Cossarts were Huguenots, and as Reformed Protestants they often used biblical names, though not to the extreme of their Puritan cousins. Maybe this Huguenot family identified with the underdog who became king. My immigrant ancestor, Jacques Cossart, fathered three sons in the New World: Jacques (Jacob), David, and Anthony.

The first American-born David arrived in 1671 in New York City (formerly New Amsterdam). He married Styntje Joris Van Horne, worked as a stone mason in lower Manhattan, and began acquiring land in Somerset County, New Jersey. After being wounded in the 1712 slave uprising in New York, he moved his family to New Jersey. My line descends from his son Francis, born in 1717, but David also had an older son named David (born 1704). While Francis eventually joined the wave of westward migration, David moved north into the Mohawk Valley frontier. It is said that his three sons—David (of course), Jacob, and Francis—served the Patriot cause in the American Revolution.

Francis and his wife, Margaret Van Nest, later migrated with other Dutch and Huguenot families to the Conewago Colony in Pennsylvania, where he became a prominent figure and a committed Patriot. Like many frontier families, they were farmers, and their migrations mirrored their pursuit of new farmland. Francis’s son Pieter, born in 1746, continued the family pattern of moving into new territory. He and his wife, Maria Durie, eventually settled in newly opened Kentucky, where Pieter died during the frontier violence of the Revolutionary era. Meanwhile, David (born 1743) remained in the East, where his descendants became part of prominent Pittsburgh and later Philadelphia society.

We have already met Hendrick/Henry Cossairt and his twin brother David, born in 1778, who first put down roots in Kentucky and later moved into the Midwest—Henry to Ohio, David to Indiana. Henry’s son William Peter continued the line, but Henry, unsurprisingly, also had a son named David (born 1837). Records for this David—who altered the spelling of his last name to Cossatt—are scarce (future research opportunity?), but it appears he moved to Illinois before dying in Indiana.

From William Peter we move to his son David Cassatt, the Civil War veteran featured in several earlier posts. This David seems to have broken the longstanding naming pattern—he named his sons Orville, Virgil, and Bascom. (There was also a son George, who died in infancy.)

And two generations later, there’s me.

So much passes down through the generations: genes, traits, customs, and stories. This post is more about names—how they endure through family tradition or serve as tributes to ancestors who might otherwise be forgotten. As genealogists, we sift through records to uncover the pieces of our “who we are” and “where we come from” stories. Sometimes a simple name is the clue that connects them all.

52 Ancestors 2025: Multiple — A Tale of Two Journeys

 

The prompt “multiple” can have many meanings, but this week I decided to explore one set of twins in my family. On my paternal side, my 4th-great-grandmother Marie Durie (or Duryea) Cossart gave birth to twins, Hendrick (Henry) and David, on March 25, 1778. They were born into the Dutch/Huguenot Conewago Colony of Adams County, Pennsylvania.

Their early life was tumultuous. They were only about a year old when their family—and other members of the colony—migrated to Berkeley County, Virginia (now West Virginia) before making the long journey to Kentucky via the Wilderness Road. The early settlers endured great hardship, as many—including the twins’ father, Pieter Cossart, and several uncles—were killed by Native Americans during frontier conflicts associated with the Revolutionary War. With Pieter’s death in 1781, the twins and their siblings were raised by their mother and likely by members of her extended Durie family, who had also migrated to Kentucky. Unfortunately, records from those early Kentucky pioneers are sparse, but the bonds among the Conewago colonists remained strong.

So how did the twins fare as adults? Did they stay in Kentucky or move on again? Both eventually settled in neighboring states—Ohio and Indiana—though by different routes. Hendrick, who later went by Henry, married Mary Nailor in Indiana and later moved to Warren County, Ohio, where he became a successful farmer. According to family lore, his mother spent her final days with him and is said to be buried in Dodds Cemetery in Warren County. Notably, many other Conewago descendants also settled there.

David’s path was more winding. Unlike Henry, he remained in Kentucky longer and married within the colony—his second cousin, Mary (Polly) Banta. The Bantas were among the leading families of the Kentucky Low Dutch Colony, and Polly’s uncles were founders of the Pleasant Hill Shaker Village. Henry and Mary had six children who survived to adulthood, while David and Polly had two: Jacob Duryea Cassatt and Mary Banta Cassatt. Interestingly, both children carried middle names from their grandmothers, and like their cousins, they later adopted the “Cassatt” spelling of the family name.

After Mary Banta Cassatt’s birth in 1818, David and his family left Kentucky for Indiana, eventually settling in Wabash County around 1834, where they were among the first settlers. He worked in the canal-building trade, as did his future son-in-law, John Matlock. By 1850, David was living with the Matlocks following the deaths of Polly and his second wife, Sarah Johnson. Like his twin brother, David had a grandson who served in the Union Army during the Civil War. Sadly, Thomas Jefferson Matlock died of typhoid while in service. David himself passed away in 1854 at the age of 76, surviving his twin brother by just one year.

David’s surviving son, Jacob Duryea Cassatt, became a prominent citizen of Wabash County. He served in the Indiana State Legislature and held other public offices but endured several personal losses. His first wife, Louisa Jane Roberts, died in 1846 at the age of 31, leaving him with three young children, one of whom died the following year. His second wife, Emma Jane Townsend, died in 1850 at just 19, apparently from complications of childbirth. Their surviving daughter, Mary, was living in Iowa in 1860 with Thomas and Mary Townsend—likely her grandparents. Jacob spent his later years in Wabash County with his third wife, Elizabeth Barker Jones, a widow who brought one child into the marriage. Together, they had three more children, including their youngest, Mary Banta Cassatt.

The twins’ lives reflected the broader American story—surviving the arduous migration along the Wilderness Road, enduring the dangers of frontier life during the Revolution, and helping settle the growing Midwest after independence. Their paths shared much in common: farming, migration, and long life. Yet there were differences. Henry left many descendants carrying the Cossairt or Cassatt name (including me), while David’s line, having fewer children and more daughters, did not preserve the surname. Still, his legacy and genes endure through the many generations that followed.

As an aside, another “multiple” could refer to the many times the name David was used in the Cossart/Cossairt/Cassatt lineage, but that’s tale for another day.

Photo

By FloNight (Sydney Poore) and Russell Poore - self-made by Russell and Sydney Poore, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2806881

52 Ancestors 2025: Urban – Life in the Big Apple When It Was a Seedling

 

With so much of my family history rooted in farms across the country, it’s hard to find many city stories. My mother’s family once lived in St. Joe’s (St. Joseph), Missouri, but so far, I haven’t uncovered many memorable tales of city life from there. For this post, I decided to look farther back—to the beginnings of the most populous city in the United States: New York City, or more historically, New Amsterdam.

My earliest New Amsterdam couple, Joris and Catalyntje Rapelje, were among the founding Walloon families among the Dutch, having sailed to the New World in 1624. After a stint up the Hudson River in Fort Orange, they settled in the small community growing around Fort Amsterdam at the southern tip of Manhattan Island in 1626. They built two houses on Pearl Street and established a farm in Breuckelen (Brooklyn), near what is now the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Joris was a member of the first representative body in New Amsterdam, known as The Twelve Men.

Other Dutch and Huguenot families followed. Some, such as Jan Cornelissen Van Horne (arriving before 1645) and Jacques Cossart (1662), settled near where the Rapeljes built their homes—Van Horne near what is now Marketfield Street, and Cossart near the foot of Broadway. Other early settlers, like Pieter Van Nest (1649), made their homes in Brooklyn. Gerrit Van Nieuwkercke (Van Newkirk) (1659) and Albert Terhune (before 1654) also settled in Brooklyn, in the Flatbush and Flatlands areas, respectively. David Des Marets (Demarest) (1663) first settled at Oude Dorp (Old Village) on Staten Island, then sought farmland in New Harlem. We round out the New Amsterdam families with Epke Jacobse (Banta) (1659), who established a farm in Flushing.

By 1653, New Amsterdam had grown to perhaps 1,000 or so residents and was officially incorporated as a city. It might be a stretch to call this mix of farms, trading posts, and shops a true “city,” but its harbor and the Hudson River route to the interior made it a thriving trade center. Unfortunately, its success also made it an attractive target for the British, who seized the city in 1664—turning its Dutch and Huguenot settlers (and others of many nationalities) into British subjects.

As the 17th century progressed and farmland grew scarce, some settlers sought new opportunities. In 1678, led by David Des Marets, several families crossed the Hudson River to the “French Patent” on the Hackensack in Bergen County, New Jersey. Within a few years, they were joined by the Banta and Durie families. One family, the DuBois, bypassed Manhattan altogether—Louis DuBois (1660) first settled in Wiltwyck (now Kingston, New York), then helped found New Paltz, New York.

The Cossarts later moved to Somerset, New Jersey, and as Bergen County became more crowded, another migration followed. In 1768, a group of now-mixed Dutch and Huguenot families from New Jersey founded the “Low Dutch” Conewago Colony in Pennsylvania. For generations after that, my ancestors lived rural lives, far removed from the bustling city that grew where their ancestors first arrived. Urban life wouldn’t return to my family story until the 20th century—and even then, in another part of New York State.

Pictures:

New Amsterdam in 1650: https://digital.onb.ac.at/rep/osd/?11105439

Overlay: https://silencesofnyhistory.org/items/show/212#lg=1&slide=0

References:

Murray, Joan England, The Bantas Of Pleasant Hill, Kentucky: Their Ancestors And Descendants, Heritage Books, 2010.

Major, David C. and Major, John S., A Huguenot on the Hackensack: David Demarest and His Legacy, Farleigh Dickenson University Press, 2007

52 Ancestors 2025: Cemetery – Low Dutch Cemetery

 

For a genealogist, cemeteries are like gold mines—so much information literally carved in stone. Of course, mistakes can happen, and tombstones cannot be edited, but they often provide valuable clues about families and their communities. With so many burial grounds scattered across the country, how does one choose a single cemetery to focus on?

For me, the choice was the Low Dutch Cemetery not too far from Frederick, Maryland, just east of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. This cemetery offers a snapshot of the Conewago Colony, a community formed by Dutch and Huguenot families who had first settled in New Amsterdam in the 1600s. As New Amsterdam (later New York) grew during the 1600s and early 1700s, farmland on Manhattan and Brooklyn became scarce. These families pushed westward and became some of the earliest European settlers in northern and central New Jersey.

The Conewago Colony was established in 1768 when some of these New Jersey settlers migrated farther west into what was then York County, Pennsylvania. The British victory in the French and Indian War had opened new lands beyond the original Atlantic colonies, particularly along rivers feeding into the coast.

Looking through the gravestone records posted on Find-A-Grave, I traced several family origins. These Dutch/Huguenot surnames appear frequently in the Low Dutch Cemetery, along with their original spellings and the New Jersey counties from which they emigrated:

• Brinkerhoff – Bergen County

• Bercaw (originally Broucard; also Brocaw) – Somerset County

• Cassatt (Cossart) – Somerset County

• Demaree (DesMarets) – Bergen County

• Monfort – Hunterdon County

• Van Duyn – Hunterdon County

• Van Orsdel – Somerset County

Although these families lived in different counties in New Jersey, they clearly stayed connected. Intermarriages were common, keeping ties strong across county lines.

The history of the Conewago Colony also notes that many families later moved to Berkeley County, Virginia (now West Virginia), before continuing west along the Wilderness Road into Kentucky. The records of the 1780 migrations highlight several surnames:

• Banta – Bergen County

• Cosart (Cossart) – Somerset County

• Demaree (DesMarets) – Bergen County

• Duree (Durie) – Bergen County

• Voris (Voorhees) – Somerset County

These families left Pennsylvania only about twelve years after first settling there. Once again, they came from both Bergen and Somerset Counties, with some families—such as the Bantas, Durees, and Vorises—sending many more migrants than others. A few Bantas appear in the Southern Low Dutch Cemetery, while the Demarees are found in both Pennsylvania and Kentucky groups. Interestingly, Pieter Cossart and his family (my line) were the only Cossarts to migrate; the rest remained behind. His migration makes sense when we consider his wife, Marie Durie—her father (Samuel Durie), many of her siblings, and her mother (Wyntie Banya Durie, of the Banta family) also joined the migration to Kentucky. The stories of the Cossarts, Duries, and Bantas reflect the broader patterns of the Revolutionary era and early nationhood, when settlers moved westward as new lands became available (often while Native peoples were being displaced).

As for the Northern Low Dutch Cemetery itself, the church once located nearby is long gone, but its records have survived. Last year, after visiting the Gettysburg battlefield, my grandchildren and I toured the cemetery. Though it was heavily overgrown, we were able to locate the grave of Francis Cossart, Patriot (pictured).

The Conewago Colony no longer exists as a distinct community, but its legacy lives on through its cemeteries, its records, and its many descendants who blended into the broader population of the region.

52 Ancestors 2025: Religious Traditions – Simple Gifts

 

Many of my ancestors came to the New World seeking religious freedom. Many were Reformed Protestants—Huguenots, Puritans, Presbyterians, and Dutch and German Reformed. These so-called Calvinists, whose roots trace back to the teachings of John Calvin, held a dim view of human nature and mistrusted concentrated power in the hands of kings and bishops. Instead, they believed in leadership by representatives chosen by their congregations. These ideals would later help inspire the American Revolution and shape American governance.

Other ancestors were shaped by the evangelical movements of the 18th and 19th centuries. Some early immigrants were members of the Society of Friends (Quakers), products of the Evangelical Awakening in Britain (paralleling the First Great Awakening in the colonies), and were among the founders of William Penn’s colony in Pennsylvania. Others, especially those who moved westward, away from established churches with highly educated clergy, were drawn in by the circuit riders of the Second Great Awakening—Methodists, Presbyterians, and Baptists. In fact, my ancestor John Jay Fast, during his moves from Ohio to Illinois to Missouri, became a founding member of the Free Will Baptist Church in Barton County.

One of the more surprising turns in our family’s religious story is our connection to the Shaker movement. Formally known as the United Society of Believers in Christ's Second Appearing, the Shakers were founded in England in 1747 by Ann Lee. While Reformed theology emphasized a return to the early church, the Shakers took a more radical approach. They formed separate communities, held goods in common, and prepared fervently for the Second Coming of Christ, which they believed was imminent. As part of that preparation, they embraced celibacy and strict separation of the sexes. Their emotional, ecstatic worship—featuring singing, dancing, and shaking—earned them the nickname “Shakers.” Yet despite their radicalism, they were known for their industriousness, egalitarianism (especially in gender roles), and forward-looking simplicity.

So where does our family come into this?

When Mother Ann Lee came to the colonies in 1774, she began recruiting new members and founding villages in New York and New England—areas already settled by Puritan families. As the movement spread west, Shaker missionaries arrived in Warren County, Ohio, and the Bluegrass region of Kentucky in 1805. These regions had been settled by my Huguenot and Dutch Reformed ancestors. The missionaries found three willing hosts: Elisha Thomas, and brothers Samuel and Henry Banta. They were soon joined by their brother John Banta and their families. The new colony was formally established on Elisha Thomas’s farm in 1807.

The Bantas were sons of Hendrick (Henry) Banta, a leader of the 1780 Ohio River migration from the Conewago Dutch colony in Pennsylvania to Kentucky. His sister, Wyntie Banta—my 5th-great-grandmother—had married Samuel Durie, who was the father-in-law of Pieter Cossart, and leader of the the Wilderness Road migration, also in 1780. These groups joined together and became the Low Dutch Colony of central Kentucky.

Those early years were challenging. The settlers faced war and food insecurity and had to convert contested Indian hunting lands into farmland. Perhaps it was this trauma, and the absence of Dutch Reformed churches on the far side of the Appalachians, that made families like the Bantas receptive to the Shakers’ promises: shared goods, mutual support, and spiritual purpose. The Dutch settlers were certainly seeking their own pastors rather than falling under the influence of revivalist preachers from the Second Great Awakening.

Maybe the idea of a utopian frontier appealed to the Bantas—a way to keep family together in the face of constant westward movement. Whatever the reason, they became key players in the founding of Pleasant Hill, Kentucky’s earliest and largest Shaker village. Yet the community was not immune to hardship. Disease, especially tuberculosis (consumption), took its toll. Some, like Samuel Banta, eventually left the sect. And with a celibate lifestyle, Shaker growth depended entirely on recruitment, so the number of Bantas at Pleasant Hill declined over time.

Still, Pleasant Hill thrived for a time. Shakers were known for their functional architecture, their finely made furniture, and even for inventing the flat broom—sparking a broom-making boom across the country. But eventually, as with many idealistic movements, decline set in. The society at Pleasant Hill closed in 1910. Its last member died in 1923. Yet the buildings were preserved, and Pleasant Hill became a historic site.

An unexpected discovery: while living in Kentucky, we visited Pleasant Hill and were drawn to the beauty and simplicity of the place—never suspecting that we had deep family roots there.

One final note: the other 1805 Shaker settlement, Union Village, was established in Warren County, Ohio. That region became a haven for families moving north from Kentucky, including Hendrick, son of Pieter Cossart, and his mother, Maria Durie Cossart. When reviewing Turtle Creek Township’s farm plots and censuses, you can spot several Bantas—descendants of Henry Banta, the great patriarch. The Shaker story, it turns out, is another unexpected chapter in our family’s long religious journey through America.

Reference: Murray, Joan England, The Bantas Of Pleasant Hill, Kentucky: Their Ancestors And Descendants, Heritage Books, 2010.

Photo Credit: Photograph taken by Tom Allen, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=168622