" TEXT="blue" LINK="purple" VLINK="#404040">
Notes
Notes for Goodwin Stoddard, 8 Apr 1821 - ----
Web site has the following [I don't know if it's "our" Goodwin, but the birth date from the obituary lines up perfectly with our independent knowledge, from Cothren of this Goodwin's birth date]:
Rochester, Monroe Co., N. Y.
Democrat & Chronicle
Oct. 4, 1880
***************
DEATH OF GOODWIN STODDARD
Saturday morning, at 2 o'clock, occurred the death of Goodwin STODDARD, late of Brighton, in the sixtieth year of his age. The deceased was well known in Rochester, where he had a large circle of friends, who will be grieved to hear of his demise. Mr. STODDARD was born in Genesee county in 1821, where he spent the greater portion of his youthful days. Later in life he became connected with Captain JONES in the ship building business at Buffalo. He served as assessor for several years, and was for some time connected with N. B. ELLISON in the boot and shoe business. Mr. STODDARD always took an active part in all duties that came within the province of a public spirited citizen, and possessed more commendable quality than usually fall to the lot of mankind. The funeral will take place from his late residence at 2 o'clock this afternoon. Friends are invited to attend.
*************
Notes for Elijah Woodward Stoddard, 23 Apr 1820 - 30 Oct 1913
Website states:
Source: History Morris County New Jersey, Volume II, Lewis Publishing Co., 1914
The late Rev. Elijah Woodward STODDARD, D. D., of Succasunna, who up to the time of decease, although in his ninety-fourth year, was the active pastor of the Presbyterian church of Succasunna, after fifty years of service to that parish, and sixty-one in the Gospel ministry, was a lineal descendent of a family who can trace back to the year 1490, to records in London, England. The tradition is that their ancestor came to England with his cousin, William the Conqueror, from Normandy, in 1066. The name STODDARD was derived from the office of the standard bearer.
The pioneer ancestor of the family was Anthony STODDARD, who in 1639 emigrated from London, England, to Boston, Massachusetts. He was a linen merchant. He married and was the father of thirteen children, among whom were Solomon, Samson and Simeon. Solomon, the eldest son, was born October 4, 1643, died February 11, 1729, was educated at Harvard College, graduating in 1662, and was a noted minister in Northhampton, Massachusetts, being called to the church there in 1669. He married Mrs. Esther MATHER, the widow of his predecessor, who bore him twelve children; of these the oldest three were daughters and married ministers; the second, Esther, born June 2, 1672, married, November 6, 1694, Rev. Timothy EDWARDS, of East Windsor, Connecticut, and their son, Jonathan EDWARDS, born October 5, 1703, died March 22, 1758, was famous for his preaching and theological writings, became president of Princeton College one month before his death, and his burial was among the presidents in the cemetery at Princeton, New Jersey. The seventh child of Solomon STODDARD, Anthony, was born August 9, 1678, died September 6, 1760. He graduated at Harvard College, 1697, and settled as a minister at Woodbury, Litchfield county, Connecticut, where he continued for sixty years. He married and was the father of eleven children. Eliakim, son of Anthony STODDARD, was born April 3, 1705, married Joanne CURTIS, in 1729, and resided in Woodbury, Connecticut. John, the eldest son of nine children, born January 26, 1730, married, April 15, 1751, Mary ATWOOD, and resided in Watertown, Connecticut. John, the fifth child of nine children, born July 1, 1763, married Sarah WOODWARD, in 1785, and their home was in Watertown, Connecticut, until 1802, when they removed to Coventry, Chenango county, New York. John, the third son of nine children, was born July 15, 1794, at Watertown, Connecticut, died January 20, 1855. He married, in September, 1817, Merab PARKER, born at Chesire, Connecticut, September 3, 1796, died March 29, 1857. They were the parents of seven children, among whom was Elijah Woodward, of whom further.
Elijah Woodward STODDARD, second son of John and Merab (PARKER) STODDARD, was born at Coventryville, Chenango county, New York, April 23, 1820. He resided on his father's farm until he attained his majority, assisting in the arduous toil of clearing the land for tilling and cultivating. He attended school in a log house during the winter months, the seats of the school room being slabs of pine logs, with two oaken pins at each end for support, and the writing desk was a smooth board fastened against the wall, the writer turning his back to the school. Being of a studious nature and early displaying a fondness for books and study, Elijah W. STODDARD devoted every moment of leisure time to acquiring an education. The Bible was the book of all books in his home, and this he read daily, becoming a Christian and uniting with the church at the early age of thirteen years. Upon attaining the age of eighteen years, having mastered the English branches sufficiently to pass an examination for teacher, he was appointed as such, serving in that capacity for the following five winters, boarding at the homes of the pupils, and during the summer months he resided at home, assisting with the labors of the farm. At the age of twenty-three years, having decided to enter the ministry, he became a pupil at Norwich and Oxford academies, in New York state, attending during the summer seasons of 1844-45, the winter months being devoted to teaching. He entered Amherst College, in September, 1845, and was a student there for four years, graduating in June, 1849, in a class of thirty-two members, eight of whom became ministers; one of them, Julius H. SEELYE, became president of Amherst College in 1876; another was Professor William J. ROLFE, of Shakesperian fame, and still another, Professor Edward HITCHCOCK, of Amherst College. He matriculated in Union Theological Seminary, of New York, in September, 1849, and was graduated in May, 1852, and he was licensed and ordained by the Third Presbytery of New York in 1852. His leisure hours in the seminary and college were spent in some useful service or in teaching.
He was delegated by the American Home Missionary Society to Momence, Kankakee county, Illinois, and labored there a short time, but the uncongenial climate made it expedient for him to remove to Hawley, Pennsylvania, his pastorate continuing there for three years, from November, 1852, to November, 1855. He then received a call to the Presbyterian church in Amenia, Dutchess county, New York, where he remained until May, 1860, when he received a call to the Presbyterian church in Angelica, Allegheny county, New York, where he remained until May, 1864, when he received a call to the Presbyterian church at Succasunna, Morris county, New Jersey, where he remained until death terminated his labors. During his ministry hundreds were added to the church membership, he performed 488 marriages, and officiated at 897 funerals. His sermons were both eloquent and forceful, compelling his hearers to ponder and think on the Life Eternal and to lead lives of piety and usefulness, he himself setting an example well worthy of emulation. In September, 1880, Maryville College, of East Tennessee, conferred upon him the unexpected degree of Doctor of Divinity, while those who knew him best felt that it was an honor given where honor was due.
Rev. Dr. STODDARD was also an enthusiastic Christian Endeavor worker, attending the national and international Christian Endeavor conventions, bringing from them inspiration to the societies at home. He stood on the platform at Atlantic City, New Jersey, with Fanny Crosby, who claimed him to be her "twin brother" as there was but one month’s difference in their ages. Dr. STODDARD was made a life member by the Morris County Christian Endeavor Union. His later years were a remarkable demonstration of the truth of LONGFELLOW’s maxim that "Age has its opportunities, no less than youth." In all walks of life he exhibited characteristics which compelled respect and won admiration. He was an example of a man whose life was his creed. No taint ever touched his stewardship. His manhood and lofty character won and magnetized all true hearts. His life was beautiful and complete in its symmetry, and was a benediction and a benefaction. Every act of his daily life was made to accord with the highest standards and never fell short of the highest ideals of Christianity. His work viewed from different angles was a noble and inspiring achievement. As a Sunday school teacher and organizer. Dr. STODDARD had but few peers. In all his commerce with the world the predominance of his ecclesiastical character was manifest. The preacher, the useful minister, was the picture which he kept constantly before his eyes. He never forgot the ermine which he wore, "Behold an Israelite indeed in whom is no guile." He was a humanized interpretation of the Golden Rule, an incarnation of the Sermon on the Mount. Charity for every human weakness was the dominating element in his character, and mercy the controlling force in every judgement. Among all his qualities none was more engaging than his positive genius for making friends.
Rev. Dr. STODDARD married (first) July 16, 1852, Eliza West CONCKLIN, born in New York City, April 26, 1829, died October 23, 1874, in Succasunna, New Jersey. One son, George Henry, born in Hawley, Wayne county, Pennsylvania, June 7, 1853, died July 30, 1853; mother and son were buried in Oak Hill cemetery, Nyack, New York, in the family plot of Jonas W. CONCKLIN. Mrs. STODDARD was a daughter of Jonas W. and Eliza (WEST) CONCKLIN. He married (second) November 28, 1877, Mrs. Eliza A. STODDARD, born June 15, 1838, in New York City, daughter of George W. and Eliza PLATT, and the widow of Professor John F. STODDARD, the mathematician. She had a daughter by her first marriage, Eliza Platt STODDARD, born July 21, 1869, died May 19, 1886, who was a member of the household at the Succasunna parsonage for eight years, a bright, intellectual and beautiful Christian character. The Memorial Chapel, standing near the Presbyterian church, erected by Mrs. STODDARD in 1887, is her most fitting monument. So long as this chapel can do service in the worship of God, it will emphasize her words, "You need Christ and Christ needs you to work for Him." "I want to do real work for Christ."
Rev. Dr. STODDARD died at his home in Succasunna, October 29, 1913. His work lives invisible but mighty in the souls of those whom he influenced, and "although dead he yet speaketh." It is pleasant to reflect that in his later years he was surrounded with all that should accompany old age, honor, love, troops of friends, and that he wore the crown of all men’s good-will around his brow, and we are confident that he shall hear the words of the Master, "Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."
Transcribed by John Cresseveur
Notes for Theodoshia Bartow Burr, 21 Jun 1783 - Dec 1812
Web site states [and it's fascinating but chilling] the following:
Theodosia, still sickly and frail from the humidity and life on the plantation, decided to move with her son to a summer cottage on the beach a few miles distant. She was not forsaking the plantation, but the slaves had medicinal powers rooted in African voodoo, and she felt that she was easily imposed upon when her husband was away working politics. In fact, some of the healers had used poisonous plants and invoked "conjur bags" (cotton cloth holding ashes and salt, dirt from a grave, and a few hairs yanked from the head of the ailing person, among other things), in an effort to make her well. She had also endured mashed onions around her throat and nutmeg and garlic draped around the walls beside her bed. Packing and moving to the beach would not be easy, but Theodosia felt she had nothing to lose and a lot to gain by doing it.
At first, life at the beach was pleasant, and Theodosia showed signs of improvement. Her pleasure, however, was interrupted when her son took a head cold. Joseph sent for not one, but several physicians, who were on the scene as quickly as possible for those days. Their diagnoses revealed that the boy had the dreaded malarial fever. Within hours he was dead, and Theodosia’s world crashed around her. She wrote her father, "My dear father...there is no more joy for me, the world is a blank. I have lost my boy. My child is gone forever. He expired on the 30th of June."
Theodosia went into seclusion. and her father was in a frenzy over her poor health. He wrote and insisted that she come to New York for a visit with him. Theodosia had reached her lowest state of dejection, and as her health worsened, she finally agreed. Joseph, now Governor of South Carolina, made the preparation for her journey to New York.
Joseph accompanied his young wife from The Oaks Plantation to Georgetown (Charleston). The coasting-barque Patriot was not yet ready to sail, and Theodosia and her husband and servants waited in a brick building. They heard talk of pirates, of the war with the British, and of a violent storm at sea. Finally, on 25 December 1813, Theodosia, wearing a silk dress trimmed in lace and carrying her sewing basket, along with her nurse, boarded the Patriot...and sailed into oblivion.
When the Patriot failed to make her scheduled arrival in New York, an intensive search and rescue investigation was undertaken to determine her fate. The entire eastern seaboard as far south as Nassau was combed for the missing ship. She was last seen sailing across the bar at Charleston harbor and into the Atlantic, and although she was to follow a well-traveled sea lane, no other merchant ships encountered her while at sea. No trace was ever found of the ship, her passengers, cargo or crew. It was generally surmised that the ship had foundered during a storm off Cape Hatteras, North Carolina, but no debris ever washed ashore that could be traced back to her. And even though the United States had declared war on Great Britain, and it was a well-known fact that British warships prowled American waters, the London government emphatically denied any involvement in the Patriot affair. In fact, the first officer of the doomed ship had in his possession a letter written by Governor Alston to the British Admiral off the Capes, advising that his wife was on board and requesting permission for a safe passage through the fleet. But the Patriot had vanished as completely as if she had never existed.
Newspapers carried accounts of the disappearance of South Carolina’s First Lady, and there were hundreds of rumors. One story said that pirates had overtaken the ship and had forced "the white lady" to walk the plank. Another story said that the vessel had been smashed to splinters in a hurricane. Aaron Burr in New York and Joseph Alston in South Carolina endeavored to accept their loss.
A few weeks after the Patriot’s disappearance, residents of Nags Head, North Carolina, awoke to a startling sight. On the beach gently bobbing in the foaming surf was a full-rigged schooner which had apparently washed ashore during the night. Hailing the vessel produced no answering response, and when investigators finally boarded her, the only living creature they found was a half-starved black kitten cowering in the pantry.
The deserted ship made absolutely no sense. It must have been abandoned offshore, yet no lifeboats were missing. And except for minor damage to her keel, she was in excellent sailing condition. One witness reported, "all the sails were still set on the vessel, the rudder was lashed, and the craft seemed to be in good order, but entirely deserted." In one of the cabins, searchers found fancy silk dresses and a vase filled with beautiful flowers strewn all over the floor. There was nothing on board to explain the identity of the vessel, the whereabouts of her passengers or what happened to her crew. It was as if everyone on board the ship had simply disappeared. Even more intriguing, she fitted the description of the missing Patriot.
Details were quickly dispatched to officials in New York, and as incredible as it now seems, no one associated with the missing Patriot acted upon the discovery. America was at war with Britain, and no one was interested. Since North Carolinians had other things on their minds besides trying to determine the identity of the shipwreck, the mysterious schooner on the beach was soon forgotten.
Joseph Alston died in 1816, at the age of thirty-seven, still mourning his missing wife. His estate passed by his Will to his brothers, John Ashe Alston and William Algernon Alston. Joseph’s remains were laid to rest alongside his son’s in the Alston Family Cemetery at The Oaks Plantation.
Several years later, a doctor treating a sick woman on North Carolina’s Outer Banks was given a portrait in payment for his services by the woman who claimed she had no funds. The woman said the picture was of the missing Theodosia Burr Alston. She went on to explain that some years earlier a schooner had washed ashore after a hurricane, and that a family named Tillet had found the craft and examined it. In one of the cabins, scattered about on the floor, were dresses made of silk and trimmed in lace. Lying among the debris were a sewing basket and a portrait of a lovely young woman dressed in white, which had fallen from the wall. The Tillet family had taken the sewing basket, but the portrait had come into the possession of the patient, and she offered it as payment of the doctor’s services.
The doctor, realizing that other portraits of Theodosia Burr Alston had been painted, accepted the offer and set about searching for a likeness to compare to the one he now owned. Finally, he found such a portrait. When the two were compared, the painting held by the physician appeared to be of the very same woman. Was it the first clue to Theodosia’s disappearance?
Twenty years later, in 1833, an article in an Alabama paper, the Mobil Press-Register, reported an unidentified man "who resided in one of the interior counties of this state" and who claimed to have been with several other companions who captured the Patriot on her last voyage in January of 1814. According to his "deathbed" confession, they murdered "all of those on board," and scuttled the ship "for the sake of her plates and effects."
A few years after this astonishing revelation, another supposed deathbed confession from another pirate claimed a similar story---only he added a juicy detail. A woman, whom he called "Odessa Burr Alston," chose death over sharing a cabin with the pirate captain. Were any of these pirates’ deathbed admissions believable? Some thought not, until yet another deathbed confession surfaced several years later. This time, a rum-soaked, consumptive old derelict dying in a sailor’s home in Detroit gave a slightly different version of the ship’s last voyage. He revealed that there had been a forecastle plot to mutiny and capture the ship. As soon as the ship dropped land astern, the mutineers acted. He described in graphic detail how they gleefully made the officers and passengers walk the plank, including the beautiful Theodosia. They then absconded with the ship to pirate up and down the American coast.
There are many reasons to disbelieve all these accounts, the main one being that the "confessors" all needed money and were paid for their stories. But the rummy’s story generated an interesting twist to the way people then thought. The Patriot just might have been boarded by pirates after all. And in the nature of pirates everywhere, the ship would have been stripped of everything of value, and all people either killed or sold into slavery. The ship itself would have been destroyed or left to the mercy of Nature.
It was generally known that women captives were often kept as slaves on pirate ships, and their lot was not a romantic one. They were repeatedly and viciously raped, beaten, fed scraps, and forced to sleep on rags. Often they were kept naked and chained by their ankles to the bulkhead. If the ship foundered and sank, the women were left to drown. They were also infected with every venereal disease known to man...and some probably not identifiable to this day.
It is also known that many pirate vessels plying the Atlantic trades sought shelter in the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Among the favorite targets off the Texas coast was Galveston Island, and there in Brazoria County just west of Galveston Bay lies a river that was once known as El Rio de San Bernardo. The river once emptied into the bay before the topography of the area was rearranged by numerous Gulf storms. It now empties into a small lake, and its name has been changed to simply the "San Bernard."
At the time of the pirate raids, the river’s mouth was surrounded by huge, spreading live oak trees. It was a virtual forest of coolness, and many pirate captains would drop anchor offshore and bask in the cooling shade. The Indians who hunted and lived in the area, indeed the entire Texas coast, were the most fierce of all---the dreaded Karankawa. Most other Indian tribes were afraid of them because the Karankawa used cannibalism in their ceremonial rituals.
For some unknown reason around 1810, an English-speaking white man came to the mouth of the San Bernard to live as a hermit. He did not know he was in dangerous territory, or if he did, he chose to ignore it, for the Karankawa had no use for white men. They hated anyone not of their own tribe, having gotten off to a bad start with pirates years earlier when the pirates snatched some Karankawa women for the usual reasons and the Karankawa snatched some pirates for dinner. According to one historian, the Karankawa and the pirates finally settled on a good working relationship---whoever got to a weapon first, lived.
But the hermit was crafty, and he managed to convince the Karankawa that he was crazy, which definitely worked to his advantage because they left him alone. All American Indian tribes share the same philosophy about crazy people. They believe that harming or killing anyone possessed would bring evil spirits on the one doing the harming or killing. It was not taboo to be friendly with one, however, and this is just what a young Karankawa did when the hermit moved into the area.
The hermit taught the young chief to speak English. It was not the pigeon English depicted in western movies accompanied by sign language, but complete sentences with a fair semblance of proper word usage and structure. When Stephen F. Austin’s colonists settled in the Karankawa area ten years later, this Karankawa, who was now a respected chief, served the colonists as an interpreter. He was considered highly intelligent and a valued commodity, no doubt because he could talk to the settlers in their own language.
The Karankawa chief, like his kindred, was around six feet tall, splendidly muscled, and totally awesome to behold. The nipples of his breast were pierced with stiff cane, as was his lower lip and the cartilage of his nose, and his body was covered in tattoos. He always wore a peculiar headdress made of deer antlers, and if he was like the other Karankawa warriors, only a buckskin breechcloth for clothing. His feet were huge, flat, and wide---other Indians called the Karankawa "Big Feet," when they were not calling them other unflattering names. He carried with him a bow every bit as tall as he was and arrows to match. They were custom-tailored to his great size, and there was no way another could have used them. Lashed to his side was a huge knife sharpened on both edges. He also stunk to high heaven, since he wore a home-made mosquito repellent consisting of dirt, bear grease, and among other things, "pennyroyal and rancid crocodiles’ liver oil." But his most distinguishing feature he wore around his neck---a large gold locket. Inside the locket was a miniature painting of a handsome young man and a small boy. Engraved across the back of the locket was a single word: " Theodosia."
When he was later asked where he got the locket, he said it was given to him by his "white wife." When he was asked where he got a white wife, he said she was given to him by the Great Storm, and the gods quickly took her away.
The Gulf of Mexico has suffered lots of great storms over the centuries, and the Texas coast has seen her share. Long before hurricanes wore names, they were rated by the amount of damage they did in the areas they struck. Most storms were rated great only after complete devastation to a city or town. But great storms hit the uninhabited areas, too, and one was the storm of "about 1816."
The 1816 storm was remembered as one of the worst to ever hit the Texas coast. Survivors estimated that the surge tide brought at least fifteen feet of ocean, and possibly more, rushing over parts of Galveston Island. It was reported that Jean Lafitte, at the height of the storm, sailed his Red House, with a draft of twelve feet, completely across the island---and snagged nothing. Newcomers to the area reported that as late as the 1830’s, high water marks and flood debris were found in places twenty feet high and as far inland as ten miles. Old Spanish records prior to 1816 report there was a huge forest of ancient live oak trees at the mouth of the San Bernard, yet Austin’s colonists in the early 1820’s described that stretch of coast as low, desolate, and almost treeless.
The Karankawa warrior told the colonists that his people survived the storm the way they always did by climbing to the tops of the flexible salt cedars, which grew in abundance everywhere along the coast, and tying themselves to the branches. The tough cedars, being deep-rooted, would bend with the wind, but remain rooted and upright.
When the storm was over and the water receded, which could have been anywhere from several days to several weeks, the young Karankawa warrior wandered down to the mouth of the river to check out the damage to his homeland. He also wanted to see how his white man friend had fared. When he reached the hermit’s location, he found the white man dead, still strapped to an uprooted giant oak tree. It was obvious what had happened. The hermit had thought he would be safe if he climbed to the top of one of the massive, ancient live oaks and tied himself to one of the giant limbs, but it was the worst thing he could have done. For all its huge size, old age, and spreading crown, the live oak is extremely vulnerable to high wind---especially if accompanied by torrential rain.
Live oaks, sometimes called water oaks further east, are common throughout the South, and their peculiar vulnerability to wind and rain has been well-known since the 1600’s. It implies that the hermit was not a Southerner by birth. The trunk splintered, and the tree fell. If the hermit wasn’t killed in the fall, he drowned in the rising water.
Looking past the dead hermit, the Karankawa found something extremely interesting. At the mouth of the San Bernard, lying half-in and half-out of the riverbed with her keel snapped, was a large, seagoing sailing ship. Since the Karankawa Indians had been taking advantage of the bounty brought by storms since the 16th Century and probably before that, the chief climbed aboard and began to explore.
His description of the vessel said that it had a noticeable raised structure on one end which contained living quarters, which in nautical terms is called a sterncastle. He found lots of useful ropes on the decks and several bodies of men lashed to the wreckage in various stages of decomposition. He gathered the ropes, ignored the bodies, and made for the living area. When he entered the sterncastle, he was surprised to hear a weak, high-pitched, woman-like voice pleading for help in English.
Following the voice, he entered a cabin where he found a small, ghost-like form of a mature white woman. She was completely naked, except for a locket around her neck, and chained by her ankle to the bulkhead. According to his story, she stood with difficulty to face him, when she heard him enter, but then fainted dead away, which is understandable since he was a fierce-looking warrior with deer antlers on his head.
He pulled her free from the bulkhead, picked her up, and carried her off the ship to the bank of the river. Gently laying her on the sand, he bathed her face in the cooling water until she revived. He gave her water in a shell to drink. Because he spoke English, she asked to be taken to where there were other white men, but as far as he knew at the time, no one else spoke that language. His hermit friend was dead.
When the woman learned this, she appeared to lose hope. She then told the Karankawa an amazing story. She said she was the daughter of a great chief of the white men, but that the great chief was badly misunderstood by his people and had to leave his country. She was also the wife of a governor of a large state. Some time before, perhaps three winters---maybe more---she got on a great boat similar to the one that lay wrecked a few yards away to go visit her father. The first boat was attacked by the one that was now wrecked. Her boat was burned and all on board, except herself, were murdered. She had been kept, naked and chained, as a slave to the crew of the wrecked boat ever since. Then she gave the warrior her gold locket and told him that if he ever met white men who spoke English, he was to show it to them and tell them the story.
The Karankawa said she then began to sing softly to herself until she fell asleep. She died a short while later. When the woman died, the warrior buried her in the sand along the river’s bank, digging her grave with broken pieces of the wrecked ship. He then covered the grave with a broken door from the wreck. Today, no man knows where that grave lies, although there have been attempts to find it. Also before she died, the Indian said the woman mentioned that there was a huge treasure on the wrecked vessel, but when the chief went to look for it, he could not find it.
The Karankawa was real. He is mentioned in the memoirs of the McNeill family, which established itself on the San Bernard in 1822, and by others of Austin’s Colony. The locket and the story behind it have been a part of the history of Austin’s Colony since its founding. The "about 1816" storm was real. Coastal Indians, for as long as they remained, dated things not by the coming of Austin’s colonists, but from the Great Storm. Considering the number of storms they must have survived along the Texas coast over countless generations, for them to consider one particular storm "The Great Storm" must mean it was, indeed, a great storm.
The ship was real, too. Noah Smithwick, in his Evolution of a State, specifically mentions going down to the mouth of the San Bernard to scavenge iron from the old wreck to use in his blacksmith business. And Colonel Hunnington, who was seventy-eight years old in 1924, says that ‘the ship was wrecked about 1816,’ as far as he could remember being told. Archaeological records have confirmed the existence of several shipwrecks at the mouth of the San Bernard, and at least two or three of them are of the right vintage to have brought the Karankawa his "white wife."
Although the Texas Almanac does not list a great storm for the year 1816, it does list one for 1818. No one really knows for sure when the Great Storm of the Karankawa occurred. It is a recorded fact that most of the live oak trees along the mouth of the San Bernard were destroyed or left dying from a great hurricane that occurred sometime during that time frame.
And what about the treasure the woman told to the Karankawa? Records indicate that it could have been found. In the 1840’s, after Texas became a Republic, an old, gray-bearded man dressed in rags and skins showed up in the Austin Colony area. He carried a bag of gold coins, and they were all dated before 1816. He said he had been a prisoner aboard a pirate ship that had been wrecked at the mouth of the San Bernard in a great storm. Her keel was broken, and all aboard died. After the flood waters receded, he had fled into the swamp, and over the years, had systematically looted her of all her treasure and anything else he could use. Shortly after he arrived at the Colony, he died, and speculation has it that he was killed by ruffians when he refused to reveal where he had hidden the treasure. At any rate, archaeologists did not find any huge golden horde on any of the various ships they excavated at the mouth of the San Bernard.
Colonel Hunnington, before he died, claimed the treasure had never been found and that it still "lies where the pirates placed it more than a hundred years ago." It is a sentiment echoed by Captain William Sterling, a famed Texas Ranger, who died at the turn of the century. He claimed that as a child he knew a solitary fisherman on Matagorda Peninsula who "claimed to be the sole survivor of the wrecked privateer, showing me gold coins which he called Spanish doubloons."
The Karankawa Indians disappeared from the Texas coast around 1838, and no descendants are known to exist. None were ever moved to reservations. Rejecting assimilation into the world of their conquerors, they simply vanished, and nobody knows for sure where. When the Karankawa tribe left the area, the locket went with the Indian brave who wore it.
Aaron Burr was definitely a "great chief." He was also badly misunderstood by his people. Joseph Alston was a lesser chief than his father-in-law, as Governor of South Carolina from 1812-1814. Theodosia Burr Alston did board a ship to go visit her father, and according to The New International Encyclopedia of 1924, "a tradition of uncertain origin" has the Patriot to have been taken by pirates. The attack described by the woman to her rescuer was about three or more years before the Great Storm, which corresponds to the date of the Patriot’s last voyage in 1813-1814. For this woman to have survived these years at the mercy of cutthroats under such deplorable conditions indicates she was a woman of rare courage and fortitude. And if she inherited her father’s character, this description fits Theodosia Burr Alston very well.
Without the missing locket, however, it is impossible to prove that the "white wife" of the Karankawa Indian warrior was Theodosia Burr Alston, only daughter of Aaron Burr, Vice-President of the United States. But if untrue, just who was the mystery woman of the San Bernard?
========================================================================
From web site:
Burr was active in the Senate, making himself felt on important occasions. Unhappily, in 1794, his wife died, after a prolonged illness. He had wanted to resign his seat in Congress so as to be with her, but, evidently, she would not hear of it, for we find little Theo writing him that "Ma begs you will omit the thoughts of leaving Congress." After his wife's death, Burr and his daughter were drawn more closely together, so close, in fact, that she was to write in after years: "I had rather not live than not to be the daughter of such a man."
At her mother's death, Theodosia was eleven years old and already versed in philosophy and history. She had read Horace, Lucian and Terence, and was preparing to begin Homer and Virgil. She could speak German and French, and played the harp and pianoforte. Burr at once concentrated on an intensive program for her further education, which he contrived to supervise under all conditions. Whether the grandfather, the Rev. Aaron Burr, first President of Princeton, would have approved of such a course of education for a girl is doubtful, and certainly her great-grandfather, the celebrated Jonathan Edwards, would not have thought it proper for Theodosia to dance, skate and ride a horse. But her father was determined to make a prodigy of her in spite of her sex, for Burr was probably the first feminist in the United States. He applauded Miss Woolstonecraft's book entitled "Vindication of the Rights of Women," wherein it was argued that girls should receive the same kind of mental training as their brothers, women being not only the equal but the superior of men. And Burr was in position to establish the thesis, for, at fourteen, Theodosia had come to be the most cultured and charming woman in America. Burr idolized her and was proud of the encomiums paid her by all who came to know her.
=====================================================================================
Notes for George Downing, 1623 - 7 Jul 1684
From web site:
New Columbia Encyclopedia: English diplomat, nephew of Gov. John Winthrop of Massachusetts; returned to England in 1646.
Notes for Arthur Melville Patchen, 4 Sep 1851 - 20 Mar 1944
Web site states:
Kenosia Cemetery is located in the western part of Danbury, on Kenosia Avenue, about 0.5 miles south of Routes 6 & 202. It is directly across the street from St. Peter's Cemetery, and is a distinct, separate entity. The cemetery is is reasonably good shape, but there is only minimal evidence of upkeep. Several stones have been damaged by overgrowth. There are also several fieldstones present. At least a half-dozen stones have been moved from their original sites and placed along a stone wall on the west side of the cemetery.
Notes for Harriet L. Patchen, 21 Mar 1888 - 11 Feb 1986
never married, according to Connecticut Death Index, 1949-96
Notes for Hannah Watkins, 27 Jan 1741/42 - ----
Web site states:
"A possible husband, based only on an ancient church record."
Notes for Aaron Hodskins, 17 Aug 1769 - ----
Aaron jr., b. Aug. 17, 1769; m. Rhoda, dau. of Nathan and Esther, (Lions) Watkins, June 16, 1796. He was for many years known as the " squire, " as he was at one time a justice of the peace. He, early in the present century, commenced sheep husbandry and was one of the best, if not the best, farmer in town, and accumulated a competency by his vocation. He was intellectually a strong man and exercised a commanding influence in town. He was one of three who first introduced pleasure wagons in town, as has been previously noticed. He was a man whose counsel was much sought by his neighbors and townsmen and his influence many times gave direction to the civic measures of the town. In religious sentiment, he was a firm believer in Universalism, and was the leading spirit in building the second meeting-house on the hill. In person he was tall and his weight was rising of 200 pounds, with dark complexion and shaggy brows, and his whole aspect was such as to inspire deference and confidence. Ch. 1st, Esther, b. Oct. 7, 1791; m. Ira White, Oct. 23,1822, and went to Ohio, where he soon died, leaving two boys. 2d, Willard, b. Feb. 21, 1795; m. Laura White, Mar. 31, 1819. Ch. (1) Harriet, b. Apr. 7, 1820; m. Joseph Burt, June 8, 1845, neither of whom are living. (2d) Maria Isabella, died young. 3d, Asahel Bundy, b. June 31, 1800; m. Cynthia, dau. of David and Martha (March) Hodskins, Sep. 8, 1822. Asahel lived on the old homestead most of he time during life and followed the vocation of his father. At one time he had the best flock of fine wool sheep in town, from the fleeces of which he had manufactured a suit of blue cloth, which he wore on special occasions as a kind of advertisement. He was a man of positive views and an ardent Whig in the time of the tariff excitement, although he had been just as vehement a Republican of the old school before. He was a good farmer, and any one wishing to purchase good sheep, fine wool, or good neat stock, knew where to find them. He died July 5, 1864. Ch. (1) Ellen A., b. Aug. 16, 1895; m. Geo. D. Kingsbury, Dec. 24, 1846, and has two sons; he d. Sep. 28, 1876. (2)Mary Ann, b. Aug. 11, 1827; m. Asa Spaulding, Apr. 8, 1847, one child. He was a Universalist preacher. They both died two years after their marriage. (3) Esther A., b. Apr. 28, 1835; m. Isaac M. Graves, July 26, 1855, and has three ch. (4) Cornelia A., b. May 18,1842; m. John M. Bixby, Sep. 10, 1865; resides at Grand Rapids, Mich., and has two ch. living. (5) Sarah M., b. Aug. 19, 1844; m. Franklin S. Lane, Jan. 7, 1869, and resides in Charlestown, Mass., and has one ch. (6) (7) (8) d. in infancy. 4th, Almira, b. 1807; m. Ebenezer Stowell—issue three ch. who died in infancy; she d. Dec. 3,1875.
Notes for Freeman Carpenter Watkins, 9 Mar 1811 - ----
From Walpole As It Was and As It Is, by George Alrich, 1880 [as transcribed by Michelle L. McKenzie:
"m. in Michigan, where he went early in life, and is still living there [1880], in the town of Norvell, a man of influence and affluence."
Notes for William Watkins, ---- - ----
From Walpole As It Was and As It Is by George Alrich, The Claremont Manufacturing Co., Claremont, NH, 1880, pages 374-378: [as transcribed by Michelle L. McKenzie]
"went West"
"had five or more children"
Notes for Elizabeth Watkins, ---- - ----
From Walpole As It Was and As It Is by George Alrich, The Claremont Manufacturing Co., Claremont, NH, 1880, pages 374-378: [as transcribed by Michelle L. McKenzie]
"had five ch., 2 girls and 3 boys: 3 children survive. [1880]"
"Mrs. Dean Ray is the only descendant of this family now [1880] living in town, bearing the Watkins name."
Notes for Ira Watkins, ---- - ----
From Walpole As It Was and As It Is by George Alrich, The Claremont Manufacturing Co., Claremont, NH, 1880, pages 374-378: [as transcribed by Michelle L. McKenzie]
"married at the west"
Notes for Philanda Watkins, ---- - ----
From Walpole As It Was and As It Is by George Alrich, The Claremont Manufacturing Co., Claremont, NH, 1880, pages 374-378: [as transcribed by Michelle L. McKenzie]
"Had five girls and one son."
Notes for Lucy Denison, 25 Sep 1777 - ----
From Walpole As It Was and As It Is by George Alrich, The Claremont Manufacturing Co., Claremont, NH, 1880, pages 374-378: [as transcribed by Michelle L. McKenzie]
"had five sons and five daughters"
Notes for John Denison, 25 Jun 1780 - ----
From Walpole As It Was and As It Is by George Aldrich, The Claremont Manufacturing Co., Claremont, N.H., 1880 as transcribed by Michelle L. McKenzie
"died in infancy"
Notes for John Denison, 27 Jun 1784 - ----
From Walpole As It Was and As It Is by George Alrich, The Claremont Manufacturing Co., Claremont, NH, 1880, pages 374-378: [as transcribed by Michelle L. McKenzie]
" moved to Ohio in 1824, and had one son and six daughters"
Notes for Elijah Denison, ---- - 1850
From Walpole As It Was and As It Is by George Alrich, The Claremont Manufacturing Co., Claremont, NH, 1880, pages 374-378: [as transcribed by Michelle L. McKenzie]
"went to Rochester, N.Y., and died there in 1850. He had three sons and one daughter"
Notes for Ziba Denison, about 1787 - ----
From Walpole As It Was and As It Is by George Alrich, The Claremont Manufacturing Co., Claremont, NH, 1880, pages 374-378: [as transcribed by Michelle L. McKenzie]
" moved to Herkimer Co., N.Y. He had four children."
Notes for Martha Partridge, 8 Nov 1739 - 20 Oct 1772
Web site states the following is the inscription on her gravestone in the Old Burying Ground in Northampton, MA:
In Memory of
Mrs Martha Stoddard
the worthy Consort of
Solomon Stoddard
Esq. who Died Oct 20 1772
aged 33.
"My flesh shall slumber in the ground,
"Till the last trumpet's Joyful sound,
"Then burst the Chains with sweet surprise,
"And in my Saviour's image rise.
Notes for Sarah Burr, 3 May 1754 - 13 Dec 1823
Web site states:
Sarah and her brother, Vice President Aaron Burr, were orphaned in November, 1758, at the ages of 4 and 6, respectively. They were taken in by their uncle, Timothy Edwards, at Elizabethtown, NJ, with a private tutor, Tapping Reeve, to help raise them. Sarah eventually married Tapping Reeve.
HTML created by GED2HTML v3.5e-WIN95
Additional programming by Shel Michaels