Last year, at my mother’s funeral, my cousin Jana called me over to her car to present me with a small collection of family things that had belonged to her mother, Ada – who had passed away back in 2009. Some of these items had been made by Ada for our family – beautiful quilts for me and my mother – but other items had been gifted to her or inherited by her long ago. Two small boxes had formerly belonged to Ada’s mother, my great grandmother, Nellie Cox Beyersdoerfer, of Pendleton County, Kentucky.
The contents of the boxes were rather undynamic – mostly newspaper clippings, notes, and small cards with envelopes. But two things stood out that enabled me to expound more on Nellie’s story.
The first item that made me pause was a teaching certificate she obtained in 1910. In the stories my mother had told me about Nellie – or “Ma” as we all called her – she mentioned that Ma had wanted to be a schoolteacher. But in the early part of the 20th century, that was not an easy choice for a single girl. Right out of the gate, her father had already vetoed the idea. He flat out forbade her from becoming a teacher. I suspect one reason for this denial was the lifelong commitment necessary for such a choice. At that time, teachers were not allowed to be married – and had to remain single. My guess is that he knew this choice would not provide the financial and social stability necessary to live on and would result in a very lonely existence. Plus, she was one of the two remaining children he had, and I’m sure they wanted grandchildren.
As far as I knew from the stories, Nellie never made it to becoming a teacher. She met my handsome great grandfather, John Beyersdoerfer, with his dark wavy hair and she was a goner. They eloped to Newport, and the rest was history – hence, our line’s very existence. But this document adds a plot twist for Nellie. She not only went against her father’s wishes, but she did so in a grand and determined manner. She went after her certification – and was successful! This meant testing her way to the piece of paper I held in my hands – a tangible expression of female rebellion! Go, Nellie!
My only remaining mystery is the timing of the certificate. This was issued five years before she married “Pa” – and folks didn’t have long engagements in my neck of the woods. So, what did she do with this certificate for five years? Did her father find out about it and then succeeded in preventing her from teaching? Or did she go teach for a while? She is now on my to-do research list for the surrounding counties to see if I can find any mention of her as a teacher in the local rural schoolhouses of the time. That’s not going to be a super easy task, but I owe her that much – so I’m officially on the hunt – stay tuned.
One other discovery in the boxes provided a secondary potential plot twist for Nellie. Or should I say, an additional clue to a plot twist I already knew about.
Nellie’s line stretches very far back into Kentucky. It’s her 2nd great grandmother’s birth in the Commonwealth that makes me an 8th generation Kentuckian. But it’s also that grandmother who (I believe) accounts for our one percent of African DNA that showed up in my test results. For those of you rolling your eyes at holding any value for a one percent result, I really hadn’t credited it either until I discovered documentary evidence that pointed me to a certain ancestor. I uncovered evidence that her family was legally known to be mixed-race – and with this remaining piece of paper, another puzzle piece may have fallen into my lap.
Ironically, I had seen this piece of paper before in my great aunt’s things and made a photocopy of it decades ago – simply because I thought it was neat. At my current stage of family research, this item now holds much more significance.
The paper itself is notebook lined, but very old – for context, lined paper was invented as early as the 1770s. It is very dirty and worn – not quite falling apart at the seams, but very nearly. The writing is in ink – appears to be iron gall, which was in use from the 5th century to the early 20th century. For an added element of context, my great grandmother was born in 1891.
Upon this very worn piece of paper is written the lyrics to the song, Darling Nelly Gray. While that is a fun coincidence, a song with Nellie’s name – further research into the origins of this song gave me pause.
This song, written by Benjamin Russell Hanby in 1856, told the story of an enslaved man in Kentucky, whose sweetheart was just sold south, never to be seen again.[i] Hanby wrote the lyrics while he was in Ohio – and very much a part of the Abolitionist movement. Its favorable reception in the region led to it being added to the arsenal of nationally popular music to sway public opinion. It was also said that the Hanby family was involved in the Underground Railroad – and the background story for the song came from an escaped slave.
All fiction aside, the theme is steeped in well-known facts for the Ohio River Valley. Without revealing my 2nd great grandmother’s full identity, she came from a family who settled within a known free community of color in Northern Kentucky. This region had been rather liberal in their treatment of different races – up until things got socially worse. By the 1830s, instead of embracing the abolitionist movement across the river, the local factions became hostile towards these opposing viewpoints. So much so that many families relocated out of the area to not only better align with their belief systems, but to remain safe. Just ask John G. Fee what life in Northern Kentucky was like in the 1830s.[ii]
By the late 1830s, my 2nd great grandmother moved across the river, into Ohio, to live with one of her sons who had already settled there with his wife and children. Her other son stayed in Kentucky with their father, and our branch descends from him. Was this move due to illness or changes in local attitudes?
The written song lyrics discovered in my great aunt’s belongings are not entirely unique for the area simply because this song became popular among minstrel and vaudeville troupes well after the Civil War – into the early part of the 20th century – including an evolution into “blackface” performances.[iii] Plus, with the story taking place in Kentucky, I’m sure there was a bit of fondness for a geographically relatable topic.
But knowing our family history and seeing the worn nature of this written note – which appears to pre-date Nellie’s birth – I can’t help but look upon it as a potentially important piece of family history. The social type of family history – the pieces that weren’t supposed to survive, and yet did. While my great grandmother was excellent at keeping the family photos in a safe place, she had very little written items that got passed down. But somehow, this old, worn little piece of paper, containing the lyrics of a well-known abolitionist tune survived. Was this simply a cultural inspiration for her name choice? Was this something sung to her in her youth by a sweetheart? Was this something passed down through her mother’s family that led back to a generation when the shade of their skin was problematic? Meh – maybe it’s just a coincidence?
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[i] “Darling Nellie Gray (song),” Notable Kentucky African Americans Database, accessed July 31, 2024, https://nkaa.uky.edu/nkaa/items/show/2596.
[ii] “Fee, John Gregg,” Notable Kentucky African Americans Database, accessed July 31, 2024, https://nkaa.uky.edu/nkaa/items/show/300004113.
[iii] “Darling Nelly Gray,” Voices Across Time Database, University of Pittsburgh Library System, accessed July 31, 2024, https://voices.pitt.edu/TeachersGuide/Unit%203/DarlingNellyGray.htm.
firmly in my path until I was able to strip away the whitewashing put in place to divert descendants from the truth.
So, we’ve all been taught about the FAN Club research method – Friends, Acquaintances, & Neighbors (or Family, Acquaintances, & Neighbors) – but can I get a show of hands how many of us actively search African American records for our white family surnames? When encountering that title on the shelf about AA cemeteries or marriages – if we don’t think our family is inside, do we just breeze on by? Years ago, I would have said, “yeah, guilty as charged.” But in the past decade or so, the desire to help bring families together through research has shifted my information gathering strategies, and I find myself in AA records on purpose to help connect people and better understand communities.
My brick wall began in neighboring Pendleton County. My 4th Great Grandfather, Samuel Cox, had married 3 women over his lifetime – the first two named Mary and the last named Barbary. With his estate division, Barbary was easy to identify, and even fill in her backstory as the former widow of a neighbor, Ross McCall. The other two Marys were much harder to distinguish. Over the previous generations, some family members had mixed up the women’s surnames. A divorce case for Mary #2 was able to identify her potential surnames (yes, she had more than a couple in the depositions), leaving the first Mary (my ancestor) with the pre-marriage surname of Dean. As my 4th Great Grandparents were not married in this area, we only knew her surname from the 
Jenny’s children. Meaning that Aaron, Emily, and John Caesar would have been siblings or nieces/nephews to my Samuel and Mary. Did they care? Were they embarrassed by this? It was a very public action to free them, and Michael had done just that.
In the 1830 census – taken the same year that the emancipation was filed in Bracken County Court, my 4th great grandparents, Samuel and Mary, in neighboring Pendleton County, have a young man living in their household that is in the column: Free Colored Persons – Males, 10-24 in age. That little hashmark in this column gave me goosebumps. Is this the missing Aaron? I certainly hope so. If this is Aaron, there is a good likelihood that my grandparents were supportive of this emancipation action. If my speculation is correct, and Aaron is the son of Michael or Abel, then Mary had welcomed her newly freed brother or nephew into their home – and I’m guessing to offer protection. But why did no one ever tell us about this relationship?
So – despite the forest of unsourced trees on Ancestry – I will occasionally search for a branch in the hopes of stumbling across a tree with valid sources attached to follow in my own research. While searching for more information about Michael, I stumbled upon a tree that included Michael and his (what I believe to be) erroneous Scottish birth. I went down the line back towards Mary, his daughter and my 4th great grandmother, when I hit at something unexpected. Whomever created this tree went to Abel and then to a black family in Ohio with the surname of “Freeman”! One of the ancestors, Joseph Riley Freeman, in his marriage record lists his own surname as “Freeman” and his father’s name as A. Dean and his mother as Eliza Robinson. The creator of the Ancestry tree believed that “A. Dean” was Abel T. Dean of Bracken/Pendleton Counties and attached his family as thus. But what I think just happened – is that the family had an inherited narrative stating that they were descended from Abel Dean, but when a record came along listing A. Dean as the father, they jumped to Abel, missing Aaron entirely. I think the generation just got disconnected and lost. Michael’s son, Abel, was only ever married to Nancy Seay, never an Eliza Robinson. But Eliza sure sounds similar to Ellen, who was listed on the deed transfer of 1852.
Obviously, I have a lot more work to do in order to confirm my surname change suspicions – and the rest of the story will depend on my findings. But the journey so far has been remarkable, and I can’t wait for the next chapter! My goal: Hugging my newly found cousins – if I can find them – and IF they want a hug (respecting their wishes, of course.)
We have got to practice a more robust and inclusive FAN Club approach! Because I’m going to be really frank here – How dare we ever consider our research to be thorough if we profess to practice the FAN approach and ignore a significant portion of our family’s community and familial network simply because of race?! If we alter our research approach to practice a fully inclusive strategy, there is a high likelihood that we will demolish a multitude of mutual brick walls, as well as unite long separated families and begin the process of telling a more accurate history of our communities and our country.