Genealogical pursuit—a fad that's turning into a trend
by Joe Tarr
Bill Alexander grew up on a farm in Middle Tennessee, where his family raised cattle, sheep, and goats and grew tobacco and corn. When he was 17 years old, Alexander left home to attend Tennessee Tech.
"At that time, I realized my life would be different from my raising," says Alexander, now 57. A genial man with gray hair and a gray beard, he sits in a beat-up swivel chair in his West Knoxville home's garage, which doubles as a workshop and office. The garage door opens onto the driveway and a misty June morning.
His realization led Alexander to collect family heirlooms, like a hand-made family chair. Then one Christmas, he sat down with his grand parents and asked them about their parents and grandparents, scribbling notes on the back of wrapping paper.
It was the start of what would become a several-decade hobby and obsession. Since then, Alexander has traced his family back 12 generations, compiled several books on various lines of his family, and walked his ancestors' land in Ireland.
In particular, he became fascinated with the life of his fifth great-grandfather. Born in 1732 in Ireland, Oliver Alexander immigrated to America. He fought in the Revolutionary War and later settled in Blount County, where he worked as a woods ranger, finding lost cattle and horses for people.
"We've lost the ability to remember and recite oral stories," he says. "So I think it's very important for us to write things down."
Its popularity steadily growing for decades, genealogy is now the third most popular hobby in America (coin and stamp collecting are one and two). And for a lot of Americans, the trail of their ancestors comes through East Tennessee. "We were the first frontier. We were the first area settled across the Appalachian Mountains," says George Schweitzer, who has been a genealogist for 40 years. "Tennessee and Kentucky became the pass-through states for vast numbers of people moving west as the country was settled."
While Knoxville isn't a genealogy Mecca the likes of Salt Lake City, people come here from all over the country to fill out their family trees. And in a park downtown stands a 12-foot statue of the man who arguably made genealogy a pop art, Alex Haley.
Unraveling History
"The majority of people that do it are puzzle solvers. They like to delve into research," Schweitzer says. "I think there's also a powerful psychological factor. When people feel a connection to and identify with their ancestors, I think it lends a degree of security to people. I have often said that security depends on having an attachment to the past and an attachment to the future. When people track their family across the Atlantic and go back to Germany or Ireland, there's a special connection."
A UT chemistry professor who also has a doctorate in history, Schweitzer is just such a puzzle solver, always poking around for clues that will tie him to the past. He got the bug more than 40 years ago. "I ran across some people with my name and wondered if I was connected to them," he says.
A local expert on research techniques, he's taught several classes on the subject. He's traced one family line back to 1460. Schweitzer doesn't have much hope of tracing that thread back any further.
"Unless you're connected to royalty, it's quite difficult to go back further than that. Royal families in most cultures kept some kind of genealogical records," says Schweitzer, who has taught classes on genealogy. Many non-royal families would also record their family history in their Bibles, he says, some in hopes of finding a royal link.
When the Lutheran and Episcopal churches broke away from the Catholic Church early in the 16th century, they both required their parishes to keep records of births, marriages and deaths. And in reaction, the Catholic Church started requiring the same thing. This development became a border for modern genealogists. "For peasants and ordinary people, the keeping of church records begins around 1530," Schweitzer says.
"If you've got royalty in your line, there's a possibility of going back further. For ordinary folks, from which I'm descended, it's almost impossible to go back further than 1500," he says. (A church record from 1530 shows a 70-year-old ancestor having died that year, so he can trace his lineage to 1460.)
It wasn't until the last century that genealogy became a hobby of the masses. "In the early days, Genealogy was pretty much an aristocratic endeavor. Only the rich and wealthy could afford to do it," says Ted Bear, a researcher at the McClung Collection. "It's been booming for the last 20 or 30 years. Mormons led the boom because it's part of their religion. Today, everybody uses it. It's a growth industry."
Its popularity skyrocketed after Alex Haley—whose papers are stored at the University of Tennessee—published Roots in the mid-'70s and the subsequent TV-mini series aired a few years later. Both were about Haley's quest to trace his family tree back to Africa. When the Haley Heritage Square was in the works in the mid-'90s, there was talk of building an African-American genealogy center. The plans fell through, but Haley's impact on the art is profound.
"Alex Haley said, and I'm paraphrasing, 'When a person dies, you lose a library of knowledge.' I think about that a lot," Alexander says.
Modern World
The most recent boon to genealogy has been the Internet. As with most hobbies, the web has vastly expanded the speed and amount of information available to people. There are hundreds of genealogy websites, including several with searchable databases on line. Ancestry.com, one of the bigger sites, has all the existing U.S. censuses on line and is in the process of indexing them to make them more easily searchable. FamilySearch.com, the genealogy site of the Church of Jesus Christ Latter-day Saints, also has many databases.
Many amateur genealogists have posted their research on-line, enabling people to share information about common family lines.
Alexander will use the web to buy rare, out-of-print books or search every once in a while to see if anyone has turned up new documents on some of his ancestors. Sometimes they have.
Not long ago he came across a transcribed 1813 petition that his fifth great-grandfather, Oliver, signed. Written in an outdated legalese, Alexander can't make heads or tails of what the signers are petitioning. But it piqued his attention because he'd thought Oliver died in 1812.
"Now that we're able to disseminate information out, you don't have to work as hard or travels as many miles," he says.
However Alexander and other researchers are also wary of the information they find there. The sources for much of it aren't cited.
"The trouble with the Internet is sometimes people submit things and no one checks it. So you have people born on eight different dates. That's always been a problem, but electronically, it's worse," Bear says.
"There's parts of both websites [FamilySearch and Ancestry] where people submit information," says Jamie Osborn, a researcher at the McClung Collection who has researched her own family. "I've come across information that is wrong. It can lead you in the wrong direction."
Legwork
For now at least, most serious genealogists still have to do the time-consuming and often frustrating legwork of searching through ancient documents and official records to track their families.
"All genealogy is at the local level where the person lived," says Doris Rivers Martinson, manager of the Knox County Archives. "That's where anything that dealt with them is going to be.
"People are getting computer programs and getting information on websites," she adds. "They'll get a little bit of information, but they have to come to the archives to get more."
Part of the problem is figuring out which county archive or church record you need to search. A good archival library can help you narrow your search considerably. The granddaddy of them all is The Family History Library in Salt Lake City, founded in 1894 by the Church of Jesus Christ Latter-day Saints. The Mormons believe that families continue on after death and that the living can make covenants on behalf of the dead. To do so they must first identify their ancestors.
For that reason the Mormon Church has been keeping vital records on anyone it can. The Family History Library is the largest of its kind in the world, containing 2.2 million rolls of microfilmed genealogical records, 300,000 books, and 742,000 microfiche. But the Mormon Church opens its library to everyone. And the church continues to collect records. It is now microfilming documents in 40 different countries. The church operates an additional 3,700 branch family history centers, including one in Knoxville, to help people determine if a trip to Salt Lake City is worth their time.
"Salt Lake City is worldwide in its coverage," says Schweitzer, who has visited the library a number of times. "They have microfilms of deeds and wills and birth certificates and marriage certificates and all sorts of records that would answer the question, "Who are the parents?'"
After Salt Lake City, the second biggest genealogy center is the Fort Wayne, Ind., Allen County Public Library, which has been collecting vital records and family histories for four decades.
Knoxville doesn't come anywhere near offering what Salt Lake City or Fort Wayne have. But the collection of materials in the Customs House at Church and Market streets is impressive nonetheless. It is the largest genealogical collection in the state outside of Nashville, and a second building is being built next door for the center to expand.
Many genealogists use the McClung Historical Collection on the third floor. "The McClung Historical Collection is one of the best research centers I've been to and I've been to a lot," says Cherel Henderson, associate director of the East Tennessee Historical Society. "You can come here if your ancestors were in Pennsylvania or Delaware and find a lot of the records."
If you want to know where anything is in the McClung Collection, your best bet is to track down a man in suspenders and white shirt named Ted Bear. He's been working at the McClung Collection for three decades and knows what is stored there and the quirks of the filing system better than anyone. "I've seen the place grow," he says. "McClung was nothing but a room in the main library."
What is there is hard to describe in a short space. The emphasis is on East Tennessee, but there are documents and books from all over the Southeast. The collection includes microfilms of all the existing Tennessee censuses from 1810 to 1920, as well as census schedules from several other states in the Southeast. Also in the collection: more than 50,000 books, many of them rare or out-of-print; family genealogy books; a thorough newspaper file clipping system; city directories for Knoxville dating back to 1859; old ledger books from stores, which might include accounts that people had; thousands of newspapers of microfilm, most of them predating 1930. The McClung also has computers where people can access Ancestry.com to use their member services (which would cost $190 a year to subscribe on your own).
"Most people that use us had relatives that lived in this area for some time," Bear says. "Tennessee was a funnel state—people moved in and moved on. Maybe they only lived here for a few years.
"We don't have as much on Florida as we have on, say, North Carolina because obviously more people came from North Carolina. A lot of people from Tennessee went to Texas so we have a good collection on Texas."
The current expansion is badly needed. "We're running out of space," says Bear as he walks through a back hallway stacked with boxes and books. "We're pulling books off the shelves." Little-used documents are being put in storage.
One flight of steps below the McClung Collection is the Knox County Archives, which can be a huge help to anyone who has ancestors that spent time in this county.
The archives are unique from other county archives in that, since the county was founded in 1792, officials understood the importance of maintaining records. "Knox County clerks can be commended—from the earliest days they knew they had to maintain records and they did," says Martinson. You could chalk this up as a proprietary boast, but she adds that many counties are just now getting around to collecting and organizing their archived records.
The Knox County archives are also unique in that they've escaped any serious losses or damage. "We've never had a major disaster," Martinson says. Fire destroyed parts of many county and state archives, especially in the old days when buildings were heated with wood stoves. During the Civil War invading armies practiced cultural terrorism by destroying county archives (some of which had munitions hidden among them), Martinson says.
Located in the archives are records of the official business of the government and its citizens: wills, deeds, marriages, divorces, deaths, births, property sales, taxes, slave auctions, criminal, civil and juvenile courts, and school documents. Medical, adoption, school and juvenile court records—even those 200 years old—cannot be viewed without a court order, Martinson says.
It adds up to 16,000 linear feet of records, which are stored in three different buildings. They're so secure that Martinson won't even let a reporter take an accompanied peak at the stacks in the Customs House, which are accessible through a security code and are maintained under controlled environmental conditions to prevent their deterioration.
Many of these are important to genealogists because they are primary sources, which are the gold standard in tracing ancestral activity. A primary record is one that a person would have been involved in making, such as a marriage license or a will. Secondary sources are ones the person wasn't involved in making but record his or her actions—such as an obituary.
Stumbling Blocks
Following this paper trail over the Internet and across state lines and deep into the dusty county stacks is a hobby that might take the rest of your life.
"You can't jump from the Mayflower to yourself. You have to go back person-to-person. It's a slow, time-consuming process," Martinson says. "It can take years."
The difficulty in tracing your roots can vary greatly. Jamie Osborn has traced one line of her family back to the late 18th century. She's slowly plugging away trying to get further back.
As a researcher at the McClung Collection, she spends a lot of time helping others. "It's so case-specific." She helped one family that had lived in Rhea County since the 1800s. "All their records were right there," she says.
"The biggest stumbling block is a common name, like Smith. You may know you trace back to Knox County to a fellow named Fred Smith. You take a look and there are 30 of them," Schweitzer says. "The next stumbling block is spelling variations. Our ancestors didn't have nearly the standard spelling that we have. Sometimes your ancestor spells it quite differently or the people who recorded the name recorded it as they heard it."
Every genealogist will get stuck, but Schweitzer says nobody ever finishes. "No genealogical researcher is ever through. You always have new possibilities. You have the possibility of discovering new cousins. New sources are always popping up."
Tracing female, Cherokee or African American ancestors is often arduous.
Up until the 1850 Census, only the head of household was listed.
African Americans weren't listed in the U.S. Census until 1870, Bear says. On slave schedules, African Americans weren't always listed by name. And when they were freed, they often took a different name.
Martinson keeps a box of laminated documents handy for school tours. In it are announcements of slave sales by East Tennessee pioneers like James White and Joseph Mabry.
"This was done in the courts. They were sold to settle estates. They were literally property," she says. "This is very much a part of our history, the buying and selling of slaves.
"When we show this to children they cannot believe children as young as 6 months were sold. I tell them that could have been you."
First Families
There's a certain amount of social cachet to be gained from genealogy work. The Daughters of the American Revolution (formed in 1890) and the Sons of the American Revolution (formed in 1889) admit members who can trace their lineage back to someone who fought in or supported the Revolutionary War.
The East Tennessee Historical Society devised a similar club to commemorate the state's bicentennial in 1996, called the First Families of Tennessee.
To be a member, people have to trace their tree to one of the 77,000 people who were living in the state when it joined the union in 1776. They were hoping for a charter group of about 1,000, says Cherel Henderson, associate director of the society. But there were 12,000 charter members. Since the program was initiated, another 2,000 have joined. Those 14,000 members are descendants of about 2,200 early residents, including Cherokees, missionaries, Indian traders, slaves and others, she says.
There are First Tennessee members in every state and eight other countries. Lyndon Johnson, a member in memoria, is a descendent of two early residents.
Each applicant to the program had to submit a proof of descent. Accepted proofs are on file at the McClung Collection. "It's really become an important research collection," she says. The names of the first families and their descendants have been collected in a hardcover book, along with some essays and photos about early Tennessee residents. Interspersed throughout the name registers are quotes about the state's early days.
"The fort of old Mr. [John] Buchanan had once been surprised...the Indians rushing into the room where the old pair had taken refuge, butchered the old man in the presence of his wife, who kneeling with her back to the wall, and imploring their mercy, had the muzzles of their guns pushed close to her face to frighten her. She was, however, spared. I once asked her how she felt when she saw her old man she had lived with so long tomahawked in that way; but she gave me no answer, and putting her hands before her face cried so, I thought she would have broken her heart," reads a quote from Featherstonhaugh's Excursions Through a Slave State.
Bishop Francis Asbury wrote in his diary in 1790, "We came to [Thomas Amis', Hawkins County], a poor sinner. He was highly offended that we prayed so loud in his house. He is a distiller of whiskey, and boasts of gaining 300 pounds per annum by brewing his poison. We talked very plainly; and I told him it was of necessity, and not of choice, that we were there.... He said he did not desire me to trouble myself about his soul. Perhaps the greatest offence was...by speaking against distilling and slave- holding."
First Families has been so successful that the historical society has started another program, called Civil War Families of Tennessee.
Alexander, who is a member through Oliver Alexander, says the biggest benefit of the program is not the books or the certificates that members get.
"It draws out information that people have, what they've found, and deposits it at the East Tennessee Historical Society. It gets information in one spot," Alexander says.
When Bill Alexander first started researching his family, he was obsessed with the basic details that connect him to long-dead people.
As time went on, he became more fascinated with the stories of these people and the way they lived. "At first we all focus on names, dates and places. When you really get into it, you focus on life and existence," he says. "I go to cemeteries and try to imagine life, not death."
He learned about a fourth great-grandfather, the Rev. William Hume, who started a Presbyterian Church and was good friends with Andrew Jackson. But he identifies most with Oliver Alexander, the woods ranger who settled in East Tennessee. He's started making mountain berry baskets, a traditional bag made out of poplar bark. He's interviewed people about how their parents and grandparents made the baskets, compiling them in a book with his poetry.
The boom in genealogy is partly because it's so much easier to do today, Alexander says. "But I also think it has something to do with the disconnect we all feel because we're much more mobile. We move around a lot, and we need something to feel grounded."
June 12, 2003 * Vol. 13, No. 24
© 2003 Metro Pulse
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