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 2025: In the News

 

I can’t say that my ancestors were the type to make national headlines—those were more likely the provenance of some more distant relatives—but in the age of newspapers, most of them had obituaries. This obituary of my 2nd-great granduncle, George Washington Mayfield, is rich with information and stories. His sister, Polly Mayfield, was my 2nd-great grandmother on my father’s side. Besides learning about George and getting names of family members, we also gain stories about wars and westward migration.

The first remarkable story is that of his father, Stephen Mayfield, who fought for the patriots in the American Revolution and, at age 17, served as a spy in his native North Carolina.

Mr. Mayfield was the only son of a Revolutionary soldier living in Missouri, his father, Stephen Mayfield, having enlisted against King George when 17 years old. He fought through seven years of the war for Independence, his service being the spying out of the royal forces in North Carolina under the guise of a mill boy taking grain to be ground.

According to FamilySearch, Stephen was born in 1758, so age 17 would place his service from 1775 until 1782. North Carolina was a particularly important theater in 1780 and 1781, when General Nathanael Greene and Lord Cornwallis clashed, prompting the British army’s retreat to the Virginia coastline. Perhaps Stephen’s knowledge of troop positions aided the now-seasoned southern forces in their success against Cornwallis.

The obituary also notes the family’s westward migration after the war, first to southwestern Kentucky—possibly to the town of Mayfield, though that may have been named for a different Mayfield settler—and then to southeastern Missouri.

George’s own life was touched by war, this time the Civil War. His obituary records:

Then came the Civil war, in which Mr. Mayfield would take no part, although his sympathies were with the South. He was persecuted by both armies and was arrested by the Southern forces as a spy, being mistaken for another man.

And:

Outside the farmhouse on the plantation was a large black walnut tree and an end of the rope, which was about Mr. Mayfield's neck, was thrown over this in a last effort to make him admit he was the man wanted, or at least testify against the suspected spy, who was his brother-in-law. Mr. Mayfield refused to speak and maintained his composure so well that the captain of the troop released him, saying he was too open-faced a man to have a double heart.

Although his obituary notes his Southern leanings, I could not find George listed in the 1850 or 1860 slave schedules. I did, however, find John S. Yount, his sister’s brother-in-law, recorded there. Perhaps George’s interests were more regional than financial.

In any case, while George was known as a successful farmer, his greater legacy was clearly in the fields of medicine and education. Five of his sons became physicians, and he helped his son found Will Mayfield College. While records provide names, dates, and locations, articles like this obituary breathe life into our family history. We can also see the southern influences in my own family, as the Younts and various Mayfields migrated to Barton County, Missouri.

52 Ancestors 2025: The Legal Troubles of Benjamin Cruiser McWIlliams

 

We’ve met my 2nd-great-grandfather, Benjamin Cruiser McWilliams, before. Through his writings on his Civil War POW experiences and life as a new settler on the Missouri prairie, we’ve had a window into our nation’s history. But I wasn’t expecting to see his name connected to the prompt “legal troubles.” Two unrelated events led me there: first, while using FamilySearch’s full-text search to check Ben’s land transactions, I stumbled across a couple of court cases. Second, my ace genealogist cousin, Cindy Cruz, sent me Ben’s complete Civil War pension file—and pointed out a rather heated dispute.

Details about the court cases were scarce, but in 1872 Ben was convicted of petit larceny and fined $5. In 1878, an appeal was filed but later withdrawn—though whether it was for that case or something else is unclear. By the 1870s, though, Ben was already a successful farmer. He had purchased land in 1866, and both the 1870 and 1880 U.S. Census agricultural schedules confirm his prosperity. This makes me suspect the case involved a minor dispute, perhaps a business deal gone wrong.

Ben was a survivor—both literally and figuratively. During his time in the notorious Andersonville prison camp, he had worked in the hospital, getting extra rations there until caught by the Raiders, and conducted shrewd deals with locals who couldn’t distinguish between worthless “old issue” Confederate money and the still-valid “new issue.” His resourcefulness, risk-taking, and business instincts no doubt served him well as a prairie farmer—but may have also landed him in conflict from time to time.

The pension dispute offers even more insight—and perhaps a glimpse into postwar Barton County, Missouri, where recently arrived “Yankee” settlers mixed uneasily with older residents whose sympathies leaned southern. Missouri had been a border slave state and a guerrilla battleground during the Civil War, with escalating violence between Union troops and Confederate bushwhackers.

From 1862, Congress provided pensions for Union veterans disabled during service. At age 37, Ben applied, providing testimony from himself, a physician, and several acquaintances. But in the file was a remarkable letter from Barton County neighbors declaring that granting him a pension “would be a fraud & swindle upon the Government and an outrage upon the feelings of every patriotic citizen and true lover of justice and right throughout this community.” Harsh words! They claimed he was well-to-do and appeared to have no disability.

Indeed, in 1880 his farm was valued at $5,000—far above the U.S. median of $600—and he was listed in the 1889 History of Barton County. Perhaps they had a point. Many successful farmers of that era claimed ailments like rheumatism or poor eyesight, and Ben’s claim of scurvy-related disability fit that pattern. Still, sworn testimony and a physical exam were required, and frontier farmers were known for working through pain.

Then I looked closer at the signatories:

J. C. Leonard, J. A. Eddlemon, T. B. Yount, Henry M. Mayfield, G. H. Dixson, J. H. Conrad, H. P. Schmalhorst, J. W. Schmalhorst, J. B. Geer, S. D. Reed, George Reed, D. H. Pierson, John J. Dixson, A. M. Comfort, G. W. Conrad, Lewis Stone, J. B. Eddlemon, Wm. Jones.

Some names were familiar—and in fact, many were in my own family tree. The Younts, originally from North Carolina, had roots in Cape Girardeau, Missouri, and had intermarried with the Mayfields, who came from Virginia. The Justice of the Peace, J. C. Krimminger, was from a family long associated with the Younts. The Reeds had Virginia roots before moving to Ohio, and according to family lore, S. D. Reed had gone into hiding to avoid Union Army service. Several others had parents or grandparents from Kentucky, North Carolina, or Virginia, while others hailed from Union states like Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois—but as we know, Union loyalty varied depending on local settlement history.

Old wartime animosities may have still been smoldering. Ben was a proud Republican, outspoken about his service. Perhaps his pension application struck some as self-serving, or as an attempt to profit while their own families had suffered in different ways.

In the end, his 1882 application was denied. He eventually received a pension in 1890, when eligibility expanded to all veterans. But whether the wounds healed is another matter—though the families certainly intertwined over time. Ben’s granddaughter, Ruby Fast, married Stephen A. Reed, grandson of S. D. Reed. Their daughter married the grandson of Henry Yount, brother of T. B. Yount, and one-time farmhand for J. H. Conrad. These were my parents.

The opening of the prairie drew settlers from all over—bringing with them their cultures, grudges, and histories. Some conflicts played out in courtrooms or in letters to authorities. Others, eventually, were resolved at weddings and family dinner tables.