When family lines cross property lines


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For a while I’ve been trying to track down a record of the Dobbins family owning my great-great-great-grandparents Alfred and Rachel Dobbins. I’ve zeroed in on Moses W. Dobbins Jr. and also his father, Moses Dobbins Sr., who was an early rector of the University of Georgia.

I recently found a will of Edith Dobbins, the wife of Moses Sr., and thought it may hold some answers. It was dated Nov. 6, 1848, long before my great-great-grandmother Laura Dobbins was born (in 1861), so I was hoping to  happen upon one or both of her parents, Alfred and Rachel, my third-great-grandparents, who were both born around 1825-1830.


Edith Dobbins’ list of goods and chattel listed seven slaves, so naturally my eyes were drawn there first. I found the following: one negro man Mallachi, one negro man Waler (?), one negro boy Frank, one negro woman Lucy and child, one negro woman Martha, one negro woman America, and one negro woman Lila (or Sila?)

So, no Alfred or Rachel, but eight other people. Who were they? What was their relation, if any,  to my relatives? Then I had another thought– maybe Alfred and Rachel belonged to other members of Moses Dobbins’ family. Hmm…




Finding my roots in Georgia pines


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This photo is of a sawmill worker in Heard County, Ga., c. 1941. (Not my grandfather)

A lot of people equate the economy of the Deep South solely with cotton. But to do that is to ignore the diversity of the South’s natural resources. In Virginia and North Carolina, there was tobacco. South Carolina had rice and indigo. And Georgia had– and still has — lumber.

My paternal grandfather Willie Pinkard (1915-1985) was part of that industry, as I recently discovered. I stumbled across his World War II draft registration card, on which he listed his employer as Ingram and Legrand Lumber. In fact, he and five of his brothers– Bennie, Ike Jr., Henry, Freddie Sylvester and John Lee–had the same employer.  My mom recalled him working at the sawmill and hauling lumber.


This image is of my grandfather’s World War II draft registration card he completed when he was a 24-year-old worker at Ingram and Legrand Lumber Company in Stewart County, Ga.


According to this article, the lumber industry emerged in Stewart County after peanuts and cotton dwindled. Lumber required fewer workers than cotton or peanut farming, a plus for a county with a steadily declining population. Ingram and Legrand was founded in 1929 and, after some iterations, exists now as Ingram Entities, a real estate development company based in Forsyth, Ga.

Research to a ‘t’


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Sometimes you have to be creative with spellings when you’re hunting for your family. This is certainly the case with the Bryants on the maternal side of my family. I was trying to find out more about my great-grandmother Rachel Bryant and was reviewing records of her father — my great-great-grandfather– Crawford Bryant. As I was searching, I noticed that ancestry.com was suggesting that I look at records connected to Crawford Bryan.

Until then, I had hit a lull with my research on this side, but dropping the ‘t’ opened up a lot. I did a bit more digging on Crawford Bryan and found him listed on three property tax lists. He and his father — my great-great-great-grandfather — Aaron Bryan(t) were both sharecroppers working in Florence, Ga. for the same employer.

This Georgia property tax digest shows my great-great-grandfather Crawford Bryan (also known as Crawford Bryant) and his father Aaron, both sharecroppers who work for John Perkins. Also listed on the digest is John Dobbins, brother-in-law to Crawford. John's sister Laura was my great-great-grandmother.

This Georgia property tax digest, taken sometime between 1883 and 1887 in Florence, Ga., shows my great-great-grandfather Crawford Bryan (also known as Crawford Bryant) and his father Aaron, both sharecroppers who work for John Perkins. Also listed on the digest is John Dobbins, brother-in-law to Crawford. John’s sister Laura was my great-great-grandmother.

A great-grandmother by any other name


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Tracing women in a family tree can be particularly difficult if you don’t have anything to a go off of. In the case of my great-grandmother Rachel Bryant, all I knew was her name when I started researching. A few weeks ago I found a marriage certificate that suggested that her name at one point may have been Rachel Henley. Just last week I found her death certificate and she is listed as having another name: Rachael Jackson.

This Rachael Jackson’s parents were listed as  Crawford Bryant and Laura Dobbins, which matches the information of a six-year-old Rachel Bryant in the 1900 U.S. Census record.

So here is another part of the mystery solved. But who was the man who made Rachel Bryant Rachael Jackson? As it turns out, his name was Joe.


My great-grandmother, the former Rachel Bryant, is listed on this 1930 U.S. Census as Rachael Jackson. She and her husband Joe are living in Lumpkin, Ga., where they are both farm workers.

I looked up Rachael Jackson who lived in Stewart County, Ga., and found one record– a 1930 U.S. Census. It showed a 35-year-old Rachael married to Joe Jackson, a man 25 years her senior. The two lived on a farm in Lumpkin, Ga., the seat of Stewart County, which is where Rachel Bryant was born– and died on Nov. 25, 1936. She was young– either 37 or 42 years old.*



*The 1900 U.S. Census lists Rachel Bryant’s birthdate as June 1894. Her death certificate lists her year of birth as 1899.


The girl next door?


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A few weeks ago I happened upon a marriage certificate that I thought may shed some light on the mysterious life of my great-grandmother, Rachel Bryant. The most puzzling thing was that I couldn’t find any evidence of either of them afterward. Until now.

I was reviewing some Census records, trying to figure out my other great-grandparents’– Dorsey and Adlina Pinkard– migration patterns from Chattahoochee County, Ga. to Stewart County, Ga. when I noticed who their neighbors were in Florence in 1920. A few houses down lived a family of Bryants, and next door to them, the Hendley family, headed up by 56-year-old Alexander Hendley and his wife, Leathey.  A boarder named Simon Hendley lived in house between the Bryants and the Pinkards.

Hendley. That’s awfully close to Healey, I thought. And a rushed  hand might scrawl what looks like Healey instead of Hendley.


This U.S. Census, taken in 1920 in Florence, Ga., shows Simon Hendley living near my great-grandparents Dorsey and Adlina Pinkard. I believe this Simon Hendley, a sawmill worker, was the same man who married my great-grandmother Rachel Bryant in 1919.

Simon Hendley was born in the late 1880s or early 1890s in Georgia. Like my great-grandmother Rachel, he  grew up in Florence, Ga. The marriage certificate I found was filed in Stewart County, Ga. in 1919, which makes it all the more likely that this was my great-grandmother listed on the document.

If this were the case, it makes sense that Rachel and Simon met and married. The Bryants that lived near the Pinkards weren’t Rachel’s parents, but her uncle, William Bryant, and his wife, Marie. (Will and Marie Bryant went on to raise Rachel’s daughter, my grandma Lula, who was born in 1925). Interestingly enough, Simon Hendley listed himself as widowed in 1920.

I do know for a fact that in 1920, my great-grandmother wasn’t dead. But maybe she was dead to Simon. Maybe their ever after wasn’t so happy after all.

Getting to know the Nances


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nancememorialcoverI’ve been getting to know the white Nances by reading The Nance Memorial. It’s a meaty read, and virtually itemizes the Nance family, a sprawling clan whose roots in the United States begin in Virginia and spread to Tennessee, Indiana, Kentucky, Missouri and Texas.

With my great-great-grandfather Henry Nance (c. 1835– 1926) being a Nashville native, of course, I was most interested in the Nances of Nashville, Tenn. According to my family’s oral history, he took the name of his owner; a while ago I had identified some possible slave owners using Tennessee tax records, which included a Josiah Nance of Davidson County, Tenn.

Reading The Nance Memorial, I scanned the text for anything that might lead to more information about Henry: Davidson County, negro, slave and Nashville. (Shout out to the find function in Google Books). I quickly zeroed in on a passage about William Howe Nance (1779-1837). He and his wife had 13 children, including a son named Josiah. This particular line jumped out at me:

“. . . when Josiah married in December 1829, he gave him 50 acres on the southeast corner of his land on which he settled and raised his family of 12 children and 15 negroes.”

I had two immediate thoughts:

  1. William Howe Nance must have been a man of means to have had 50 acres to give to his son.*
  2. This Josiah must be the same one I came across in the tax records, and these 15 negroes could have included one or both of my great-great-great-grandparents, William and Lula Nance. Or neither. The only way to confirm is with some sort of document– like an inventory, a receipt, a bill of sale, or a will, like the one I found listing my great-great-great grandmother Sallie Whitehurst. (NOTE: in 1829, my great-great-grandfather Henry Nance hadn’t been born yet).

This bit of context could be the clue I’ve needed to begin to piece together Henry Nance’s life in Tennessee.


*I was right. More on that later