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: Wide Open Spaces — The Missouri Prairie

 

When my ancestors first arrived in the New World, much of the Dutch and British colonies were covered in forests. Over time, those forests were cleared for farmland—a pattern that continued as families pushed westward. Many of my lines ultimately converged in Barton County, Missouri, located on the eastern edge of the wide-open Osage Plains, part of the vast prairies of the American West. These prairies were characterized by tall grasses, with trees lining the many creeks and streams. The rich, loamy soil proved ideal for farming and attracted settlers from the Midwest and Upper South, especially in the years surrounding the Civil War.

The first of my ancestors to arrive in southwest Missouri were the Maddox and Curry families. Robert Curry (my 2nd-great-grandfather on my paternal side) married Elizabeth Ann Maddox, and by 1860 they were living in Montevallo Township, Vernon County—just north of Barton County. At that time, Vernon County’s population was only 4,850. Both families had deep roots in the East: the Maddoxes had lived in colonial Virginia, then migrated west through Tennessee; the Currys migrated through Kentucky from the east. They initially settled in Monroe County, Missouri, before 1840, then moved further west by 1850 in search of new farmland.

Unfortunately, they were caught up in the turmoil of the Civil War. The region was a hotbed of guerrilla warfare against Union forces. Being deeply Southern in sympathy, the extended Maddox family was aligned with the bushwhackers and suffered retaliation when Union troops struck back at towns that had supported the Confederacy. But that is another story.

Another transplanted Southern family on my paternal side was the Younts. Though the Younts originally arrived in Pennsylvania in the 1700s, they later established themselves in North Carolina and then in the Cape Girardeau region of Missouri in the early 1800s. Frederick Yount (my 2nd-great-grandfather) moved to Barton County with his second wife, Elizabeth, before 1870 and started a farm there. This was a blended family migration of Younts and Krimmingers—several of Elizabeth’s children also relocated and established themselves in Barton County. (Note: In the 1886 plat of Barton City shown above, nearby settlers included the Mayfields, relatives of Frederick Yount’s first wife. At least one was a 5th cousin. Even when families weren’t close, they were often distantly related and were part of the tight-knit web of early settlers.)

On my maternal side was Anthony Gilmartin, a Union Army veteran and 2nd-great-grandfather. He, his wife Jane, and their children migrated to Barton County between 1867 and 1870 from Illinois. Another Illinois transplant was John Jay Fast and his wife Hannah Robbins Day, my 3rd-great-grandparents, who arrived in 1866.

Another Union Army veteran, my great-grandfather David Cassatt, first moved to the prairies of Carroll County, Missouri, near the Missouri River. He later settled in Barton County in 1878. The Reed family also arrived during the 1870s, migrating from eastern Ohio under the leadership of S.D. Reed, my 2nd-great-grandfather.

Among the most notable of these settlers was Benjamin Cruiser McWilliams (my 2nd-great-grandfather), who not only moved to Barton County in the 1860s but also recorded his vivid impressions. As I’ve mentioned before, Ben was part Scots-Irish and part German from the Appalachian region of Pennsylvania, and the vast prairie made quite an impression on him. According to The History of Barton County, he:

...only remained here a short time, as the country was but a vast rolling prairie, with no houses or improved farms, and went to Dubuque, Iowa, thence to Cedar Rapids, and was married at Danforth, Johnson County, Iowa, to Miss Mary A. Cloud, on the 24th of December, 1867. In 1869 he returned to his farm in Missouri, at that time there being no house between his and the county seat, Lamar, sixteen miles away…

He further described his first impressions of the prairie in his own words:

I went around the next morning and [real estate agent George Walser] had his ponies hitched up to his ‘"buckboard," and we both got in and drove seventeen miles northwest of Lamar to the Round Mound in Barton City Township, where we commanded a good view of the surrounding country. The grass had all gone to seed that year and was as high as your head on all sides, resembling a vast sea.

Pointing from this point of view to a place to the southwest of where we stood, on the Round Mound, to land near the foot of the same said, "Now your land lies down there." [...]

Viewed from the top of this mound, the surrounding country was beautiful to behold and enough to captivate anyone, especially someone from the East, where mountains block the view. The broad plains stretched out on all sides and melted away into the horizon, with flocks of wild deer and antelope roaming freely. All other forms of game abounded—prairie chickens, wild turkey, and squirrels—in the timber. As far as the eye could reach, I found no settlements on this lone prairie, but the wild game held full sway. A few log cabins, however, dotted the creek banks as far to the east, near what was called Little Drywood, these were sheltered by trees.

To these east-coast migrants, the Missouri prairie truly was a land of wide-open spaces—a land of possibility. Barton County had just 1,817 residents in 1860. Though the region was a Civil War battleground, the promise of fertile land drew settlers westward, and by 1870 the population had grown to 4,285, and by 1880 to 10,332.

This post is only a summary of the settler ancestors in my family tree. As I’ve dug deeper into census records, agricultural schedules, and land deeds, more stories have come to light. Each deserves a post of its own.

These settlers formed farming and faith communities, and any map from 100+ years ago shows their farms scattered across various townships—but rarely far apart. Over time, these proximity-based relationships turned into marriages, as children who migrated or were born in Missouri grew up alongside one another.

Ben McWilliams recalled one such bond:

John Fast and family had located and settled in the north part of the city, near the present location of the waterworks tower. There were several trails which crossed his land, so he had laid rails across these trails to divert the travel from across his newly sowed wheat fields. Two sons, John and Marion, later went out and settled near Barton City, and became my lifelong neighbors and friends.

Ben’s daughter, Nellie, later married Marion’s son, Orin Taylor Fast—and together they became “Grandma and Grandpa Fast,” names that live on in many family tales.

Photo: 1886 Plat of Barton City Township; Courtesy of Cindy Cruz

52 Ancestors 2025: Wedding Bells – Ben and Mary Hizar

 

One very interesting wedding in our family history is that of my great-aunt Mary and Uncle Ben, which took place in April 1936. Aunt Mary, born Mary Fast, was the daughter of Orin Taylor Fast and Nellie McWilliams, who are fondly remembered as Grandma and Grandpa Fast. She was only about five years older than my mother and was something of a big sister to her. Mary worked as a teacher, first in a one-room schoolhouse and later in a larger, consolidated school. When we visited their home in Barton County, Missouri, we always stayed at their house. As a child, I would eagerly read through the Golden Book Encyclopedia set they kept on the bookshelf.

A photo from their wedding is like a snapshot of a Fast family reunion (which still happens every summer). The bride and groom stand on the right, with Grandma and Grandpa Fast on the left. In the center, wearing a dark dress and turning her head, is my grandmother, Ruby (Fast) Reed. Ruby and my grandfather Steve were no longer together, so he’s absent, but their children are easy to spot. My mom, Ruth, stands just over Ruby’s left shoulder, while the boys are dressed in bib overalls and ties. Uncle Jim stands with his hands in his pockets, and the twin Uncles, John and Joe, sit on a bench, sporting matching ties. I can also recognize Mary and Ruby’s sister, Aunt Dixie (Eccher), standing with a little girl in front of her—likely Dixie Mae.

This picture also tells a deeper story about the family. After Ruby and Steve separated, Ruby and her children moved back to Grandma and Grandpa Fast’s farm. Ruby and my mother both taught in local schools (with many of their students being cousins). Mom used to tell stories of riding a horse to school until she could afford a car. I doubt anyone took out a second mortgage to pay for the wedding; perhaps everyone pitched in.

Though Aunt Mary and Uncle Ben never had children of their own, they were beloved by many nieces, nephews, and eventually great-nieces and nephews. Mary also served as the Fast family historian. It was in her home that I first began learning about the family’s past, and much of what we know today is thanks to the books she published.

52 Ancestors 2025: Institutions - Finding Relatives (or Not)

A few weeks ago, while researching my grandfather’s story, I started looking more closely into his “step-family.” The 1940 census showed that Stephen Reed was living in St. Joseph, Missouri, with his identified wife, Margaret, and her two daughters: Dulcie, who was 20 and listed as married, and Rose, age 15. To learn more about this new family, I began digging further.

I discovered that Dulcie later remarried, and Rose appeared in the 1950 census living in a residential nursing home. I also located her death certificate from 1973. Census records labeled her as “unable to work,” but there’s no clear explanation as to why. What we do know is that by 1950, she was no longer living with family. This prompted me to explore the types of institutions that existed at the time for adults with special needs, whether due to physical or mental impairments.

Historically, Americans who were infirm, physically disabled, or mentally challenged, young and old, were often kept out of sight, either housed by family or placed in almshouses. Some were cared for by religious or charitable institutions. A significant change came with the passage of the Social Security Act in 1935, which provided assistance for older Americans. This spurred the development of more independent residential homes, and it appears that Rose was living in one of them.

The 1950 census lists her as a lodger in a nursing home operated by a widow named Aletha Wells, who lived there with her father, Wayne Urquhart (also widowed). The home was a large Victorian brick house, formerly the Henry Mayer House, likely typical of older residences that had fallen out of fashion and were subdivided into boarding arrangements. Although the federal government had started providing grants for hospital-affiliated nursing homes a few years earlier, homes like this remained common.

The Wells home had 13 lodgers. With the exception of Rose, who was just 25, the others were all aged 75 to 93. This type of institution resembled a rooming house more than a modern nursing facility. Residents lived in individual or shared rooms, used common bathrooms, and likely ate meals prepared by a hired housekeeper. Medical care would have come from local doctors making house calls. The round-the-clock nursing care we now associate with nursing homes typically didn’t exist outside of hospital-based institutions at that time.

The Wells nursing home faced challenges after 1950. Wayne Urquhart died in 1952 and Aletha in 1956. After her death, the home likely became nonviable, leaving the lodgers to find new arrangements. Some may have found other boarding houses, some may have transitioned to more formal care facilities, and some were probably taken in by family. That last option appears to have been Rose’s fate.

At some point after 1950, Rose returned to live with her mother, Margaret Branstuder Stephenson Blanton, and stepfather, Oscar Blanton, in St. Joseph. She died there in 1967. Margaret passed away in 1974, and her sister Dulcie in 2007. We still don’t know the nature of Rose’s condition, but clearly she needed support, whether institutional or familial, for much of her adult life.

One of my goals in exploring this branch of my grandfather’s extended family was to learn more about Rose and ensure that her story was not lost. Through census records, death certificates, and FamilySearch entries, I’ve been able to help restore her rightful place in the historical record.

52 Ancestors 2025: Choices—Tracing the Many Lives of Stephen Anthony Reed

 

This week’s exploration took me deeper into the life of my maternal grandfather, Stephen Anthony Reed—the only grandparent I ever met. While I remember him vaguely, his legacy within the family was more complicated. He and my grandmother, Ruby, divorced in the 1930s, reportedly due to his infidelity. Family lore says he was a car salesman who once gave a car to a girlfriend, even though the family had modest means.

The 1930 census places the Reed family in St. Joseph, Missouri, with Ruby, their daughter Ruth (my mother), and sons James, and twins John and Joseph. By 1940, Ruby and the children were living with her parents, Orin Taylor and Nellie Mae McWilliams Fast—a sure sign of the family fracture.

Since my first genealogy goal of the year was to trace the Reed line, I began with Stephen and also looked him up in the 1940 census. He was still in St. Joseph, now living with a new wife, Margaret L., and two stepdaughters: Detrie O. Wilcox and Rose M. Stephens. The names were unfamiliar. I assumed Margaret had been previously married to a man named Stephens and began searching records under various combinations, but came up empty-handed.

Then came some intriguing clues: a 1961 Wyoming marriage certificate listing Stephen’s wife as Verla, and mid-century city directories showing that he owned a roofing company in Nebraska, managed by Verla. The marriage certificate indicated both Stephen and Verla were previously married but widowed.

Still determined to find out more about Margaret, I returned to the 1940 census and reexamined it closely. One daughter, listed as Rose M. Stephens, was also recorded elsewhere as Rose M. Stephenson. The handwriting was difficult, and the transcription had been slightly off, but this provided a new clue. I eventually located Rose in the 1950 census—living in a convalescent home in St. Joseph and unable to work. Her 1967 death certificate confirmed she was the daughter of John Tipton Stephenson and Margaret Branstuder. She was also living in a nursing facility that was part of the local public health department.

This led to a breakthrough: Margaret’s older daughter, “Detrie,” was actually Delcie Oleta Stephenson, who had married Ralph Lewis Wilcox in 1936 in Nebraska. She later appears as Dulcie O. Stephenson Hord, confirmed by a FamilySearch tree and a Find-A-Grave entry.

Piecing this together: in 1930, Margaret Branstuder was married to John Stephenson (update: but she and John were not living together). Sometime between 1930 and 1935, Stephen Reed and Margaret left their respective families and began a life together. In the 1940 census, Margaret and Stephen were living with her daughters. They had resided in Plattsmouth, Nebraska in 1935. Rose, then 15, was not in school, and Delcie (Dulcie) was working as a waitress, though married, with no husband in the home.

By 1950, Stephen was in a new relationship, living in Norfolk, Nebraska with Verla Catherine Fultz Verbeck. Though listed as married, they didn’t officially wed until 1961, as confirmed by a Wyoming marriage certificate. Verla had been previously married to John Edward Verbeck, who passed away in 1955.

This research opens up new questions: What became of Margaret Branstuder after 1940? What were the circumstances of her and Stephen’s relationship—and her disappearance from the record? While Dulcie and Rose left some traceable paths, Margaret’s trail fades. As for Stephen, the records suggest a life of frequent moves, multiple relationships, and occupational shifts—choices that left its mark on those around him.  

There's more to uncover, and it’s a reminder that genealogical research is often less about static facts and more about untangling the complex stories behind the names. The search continues, with questions for both archives and family memory.

Addendum: I was able to pick up some of Margaret's trail. Here's an update.