The “Contrasting Dye” of Family

So, I was lying on the table as a tech got me ready for a CT Scan, and asking questions. He confirmed what I had assumed: that the intravenous contrasting dye goes everywhere your circulatory system goes. How the results are read depends on what the radiologist looks for, which in turn depends on what the doctor asked for. If he needs information about your kidneys, the report won’t mention your lungs.

This got me thinking about genealogy and family research–the question of “what’s there” vs. “what we’re looking for.” Some people inject “Magruder” into archival records, into a community, into the body politic, to find illustrious connections. I get a small but steady trickle of messages from people interested in royal descent, for example, which doesn’t interest me at all. At the opposite end of the spectrum, some just want to identify a great-grandmother. Sometimes I can help with that, not always.

When I started my Magruder book project I wanted to see what an injection of “Magruder” would show about my family’s involvement in slavery. As neither family trees nor archival records have a natural boundary like that of a single human body, I decided my circulatory system would be limited to Maryland and D.C., with occasional excursions to Virginia.

Within that body of evidence, I would look at two questions.

First, would I find that my relatives and other Magruder descendants had taken part in every aspect of the pernicious institution, from manumissions to slave trading?

Some answers so far:

Claims by descendants (including my grandmother) that an ancestor “freed his slaves” far outnumber manumissions that are visible in the records. The 19th century requirement that free blacks in Maryland carry papers proving their status means that, at least within the time span of that law, the answer is not ambiguous. (My great-great-grandfather, it turns out, was living in D.C. at the time in question, so I am still researching his story.)

And, so far, I have found just one man who (according to one of his half-siblings) signed on as driver for a slave trader trafficking people to the Deep South. Magruders did do business with slave traders, however, both buying and selling human beings. More than a million people were trafficked from the Upper South to the Deep South between 1808 and Emancipation, including a substantial percentage of people enslaved in Maryland and Virginia, and the sale of healthy, young workers was lucrative. Magruders did not stand apart from this reality. In a few cases, Magruders who advertised people for sale (in between ads for hay, cattle, furniture, and shoes) took steps to ensure that they could not be removed from the state.

Second, would my search paths illuminate the lives of any of the thousands of people who were enslaved by Magruders and descendants, from the 1660s to the 1860s?

The answer so far:

A few. The best resources are the so-called Slave Statistics compiled from 1864 (date of Maryland Emancipation) to 1869. These are the affidavits sworn by enslavers who hoped that either the state or the Federal government would compensate them for the loss of their captive laborers. Filing required a second affidavit affirming that the filer had remained true to the Union and not supported the rebellion–which, of course, many could not or would not swear to. The whole process was voluntary and aspirational–compensation did not materialize–so the record is partial, but the affidavits provide each enslaved person’s first and last name and age. This is a tremendous head-start for descendants who are researching their family trees–full name, approximate age, and last enslaver. In some cases, family groupings are clear. Once those relationships have been established, the next question is: how do we get to the next generation back?

A large part of my research in the last ten years has focused on helping with that question by connecting the Slave Statistics for Prince George’s County to the probate, land, and tax records of enslavers. In some cases I have been able to assemble known or likely family lines and siblings by tracing them through several generations of white family records. I have posted about this before and will do so again. In my book, I sometimes pause the narrative to provide explicit information about “Following the Lines” of these families.

And then, of course, I am too curious for my own good.

People, places, events…things surface in my reading that I just have to learn more about. Rabbit holes turn into tunnels. Or should I say that what I thought was a capillary turns out to be an artery.

Which is how the Civil War / Emancipation era came to dominate my research for the last…well, it might be three years. Working title for that section of the book: “When Everything Happened.”

So, it’s time to share. Starting now, I will try to post at least once a week about something in my research. I’m starting with Civil War soldiers–both Yanks and Rebs, most white, two black–whose lives I never would have known about had they not been illuminated by the “contrasting dye” of Magruder descent.

Why should you obsessively check every possible source?

Because the answers aren’t always where you expect them to be. Because random stuff happens. Because an unrelated record may point to what you need. Here are four illustrations.

Proving a small but interesting detail: Reading estate papers for my g-g-grandfather’s older brother, Oliver Barron Magruder, who died in 1852, I found a receipt from the court for 25 cents for an unpaid fee at the courthouse, dating back to 1849. It confirmed that Oliver had been guardian to my ancestor, Fielder Montgomery Magruder, after their father died. In 1849, Oliver had distributed to Fielder what he had coming on his 21st birthday, but forgot to pay the 25-cent fee. It was paid by his estate in 1852.

Proving parentage: Fielder M. & Oliver B. Magruder’s grandfather was Haswell Magruder (1736-1811). One of Haswell’s sons, Samuel, was not mentioned in his will so most genealogists have missed him entirely. This causes additional confusion when researchers see his marriage, family, census, land records, tax records, etc., in Prince Georges County, and don’t know who this Samuel Magruder was. Some then conflate him with a different Samuel Magruder, from Montgomery County. I found confirmation of my Samuel’s existence and parentage in some of Haswell’s land records.

From 1789 to 1800 Haswell transferred slaves by name, and tracts of land by name to his children. For tracts of land surveyed in colonial Maryland the property’s name was part of its legal description and for generations continued to be recorded when properties changed hands. In 1789, Haswell gave part of “Berry’s Folly” to his son Samuel. (Two years later, he gave another piece of “Berry’s Folly” to another son, William, who is in the will.) Samuel died in 1826 and the estate was not quickly settled, so the 1833 tax records for Prince George’s (published by the P.G. County Historical Society in 1985) show “pt. of Berry’s Folly” as one of the tracts owned by “Samuel Magruder heirs,” close to land owned by William and another of their brothers. Samuel’s various records (including references to “part of Berry’s Folly”) then provided pathways to the estate of his widow, Anne, who wrote a detailed will in 1855. I am working on tracing enslaved families to emancipation through this line of inheritance. (I also, eventually, found records to confirm that the other Samuel Magruder stayed in Frederick and Montgomery counties and never moved to P.G.)

Proving divorce: From years of researching Roderick McGregor and the rest of the Prince George’s County family whose name was changed from Magruder to McGregor in the 1820s, I was convinced that Roderick and his wife, Anne E. E. Berry (widow Eaten or Ayten) had divorced. As I accumulated various records about them circumstances pointed to the year 1843. Unfortunately for me that was just after the legislature (whose records are online) delegated divorce cases to the county courts. County clerks did not index the Prince George’s court records at the time and case folders had been haphazardly boxed when the county transferred them to the Maryland State Archives, so a search was going to be daunting, if not impossible. Eventually (by which I mean in about twenty years) I narrowed the time frame to just a few months in 1843. With the help of an MSA archivist I found the court dockets for those months and–Eureka!–there was the McGregor divorce case!

Discovery! Vindication!

The archivist said that, armed with a date and case number, he could find and pull the case. You can imagine my excitement waiting for his next message! Sadly, he emailed with bad news: many folders were missing and McGregor v. McGregor was one of them.

So, what to do?

On my next in-person visit to the archives I combed many years of court dockets, noting every case showing either of their names. Most were irrelevant, but then…(drum roll, please!)…twelve years after they divorced, Roderick sued Ann and her brother. I pulled that case. Roderick wanted the court to stop Ann and her brother from digging a ditch that could have flooded part of his land. As part of the case his attorney submitted the entire transcript of their divorce case (presumably as evidence of ill-will) and it was duly entered into the record, with certification that it was accurate and complete. Hallelujah! I finally got to read the McGregors’ dirty laundry.

Finding an enslaved ancestor: A correspondent sought my help to identify the mother of an ancestor who was born in slavery and still a child at the time of emancipation. Her death certificate was unhelpful and those of siblings proved no more useful. We knew the last slaveholder’s name but probate records turned up nothing. Dead-ended there, I searched the name of a different slaveholder in the same family and found a newspaper advertisement listing people to be sold as part of an estate settlement. The little girl who started our search–the known ancestor–was named there as part of a family group with a woman and a boy. Since we knew the girl’s surname, I searched for the boy’s name with the same surname and found him in city directories after emancipation doing the same work he was noted for in the slaveholder’s records. It wasn’t proof that the woman in the ad was their mother but it was strong circumstantial evidence. The family was not sold, BTW, despite that advertisement–I found them in later records with the same slaveholder.

When AI Transcription Fails, Try Another Site

If you search on Ancestry for the sons of Haswell Magruder (1736-1811) in the 1810 census, you will probably find only Fielder (1780-1840) and William (1773-1842). Paging through the census images will reveal the other brothers, Samuel (abt 1765-1826) and Edward (1778-1842)–both quite readable, by the way.

Haswell’s daughters are also there, under their husbands’ names: James Moran, husband of Hester Beall Magruder (abt 1764-1832) and Adam Crawford (or Crauford), husband of his Sophia (abt 1771-1836). (Honestly, it looks like the girls just married the nearest man. Their choice or their father’s?)

All are in the “Scotland Ocean & Bladensburgh Hundreds.” The “hundreds” were the original districts, a terminology held over from colonial times.

But even knowing they were there, no amount of searching and no search engine trickery would cough up a result for Edward or Samuel.

…Until a big duh moment today, when I recalled the very different format on Family Search. It opens up a sidebar for transcriptions instead of a separate page, so you can scroll through both simultaneously. All I had to do was find Fielder and Haswell, on p. 53, and then scroll back to p. 50, where I knew the missing brothers were lurking. Both cleverly concealed, it turns out, under the transcriptions: “Ewd Maginden” and “Saml Maginden.”

When I entered those names on Ancestry, up they popped. I’ve entered alternate names for both, so hopefully future searches there will succeed.

Family Search link to p.50, Edward & Samuel — free
Ancestry Link to “Ewd Maginden” — requires a subscription