John Burnett's great-great-great grandfather: John G. Burnett�s Story of the Removal of the Cherokees Birthday Story of Private John G. Burnett, Captain Abraham McClellan�s Company, 2nd Regiment, 2nd Brigade, Mounted Infantry, Cherokee Indian Removal, 1838-39. Children: This is my birthday, December 11, 1890, I am eighty years old today. I was born at Kings Iron Works in Sulllivan County, Tennessee, December the 11th, 1810. I grew into manhood fishing in Beaver Creek and roaming through the forest hunting the deer and the wild boar and the timber wolf. Often spending weeks at a time in the solitary wilderness with no companions but my rifle, hunting knife, and a small hatchet that I carried in my belt in all of my wilderness wanderings. On these long hunting trips I met and became acquainted with many of the Cherokee Indians, hunting with them by day and sleeping around their camp fires by night. I learned to speak their language, and they taught me the arts of trailing and building traps and snares. On one of my long hunts in the fall of 1829, I found a young Cherokee who had been shot by a roving band of hunters and who had eluded his pursuers and concealed himself under a shelving rock. Weak from loss of blood, the poor creature was unable to walk and almost famished for water. I carried him to a spring, bathed and bandaged the bullet wound, and built a shelter out of bark peeled from a dead chestnut tree. I nursed and protected him feeding him on chestnuts and toasted deer meat. When he was able to travel I accompanied him to the home of his people and remained so long that I was given up for lost. By this time I had become an expert rifleman and fairly good archer and a good trapper and spent most of my time in the forest in quest of game. The removal of Cherokee Indians from their life long homes in the year of 1838 found me a young man in the prime of life and a Private soldier in the American Army. Being acquainted with many of the Indians and able to fluently speak their language, I was sent as interpreter into the Smoky Mountain Country in May, 1838, and witnessed the execution of the most brutal order in the History of American Warfare. I saw the helpless Cherokees arrested and dragged from their homes, and driven at the bayonet point into the stockades. And in the chill of a drizzling rain on an October morning I saw them loaded like cattle or sheep into six hundred and forty-five wagons and started toward the west. One can never forget the sadness and solemnity of that morning. Chief John Ross led in prayer and when the bugle sounded and the wagons started rolling many of the children rose to their feet and waved their little hands good-by to their mountain homes, knowing they were leaving them forever. Many of these helpless people did not have blankets and many of them had been driven from home barefooted. On the morning of November the 17th we encountered a terrific sleet and snow storm with freezing temperatures and from that day until we reached the end of the fateful journey on March the 26th, 1839, the sufferings of the Cherokees were awful. The trail of the exiles was a trail of death. They had to sleep in the wagons and on the ground without fire. And I have known as many as twenty-two of them to die in one night of pneumonia due to ill treatment, cold, and exposure. Among this number was the beautiful Christian wife of Chief John Ross. This noble hearted woman died a martyr to childhood, giving her only blanket for the protection of a sick child. She rode thinly clad through a blinding sleet and snow storm, developed pneumonia and died in the still hours of a bleak winter night, with her head resting on Lieutenant Greggs saddle blanket. I made the long journey to the west with the Cherokees and did all that a Private soldier could do to alleviate their sufferings. When on guard duty at night I have many times walked my beat in my blouse in order that some sick child might have the warmth of my overcoat. I was on guard duty the night Mrs. Ross died. When relieved at midnight I did not retire, but remained around the wagon out of sympathy for Chief Ross, and at daylight was detailed by Captain McClellan to assist in the burial like the other unfortunates who died on the way. Her unconfined body was buried in a shallow grave by the roadside far from her native home, and the sorrowing Cavalcade moved on. Being a young man, I mingled freely with the young women and girls. I have spent many pleasant hours with them when I was supposed to be under my blanket, and they have many times sung their mountain songs for me, this being all that they could do to repay my kindness. And with all my association with Indian girls from October 1829 to March 26th 1839, I did not meet one who was a moral prostitute. They are kind and tender hearted and many of them are beautiful. The only trouble that I had with anybody on the entire journey to the west was a brutal teamster by the name of Ben McDonal, who was using his whip on an old feeble Cherokee to hasten him into the wagon. The sight of that old and nearly blind creature quivering under the lashes of a bull whip was too much for me. I attempted to stop McDonal and it ended in a personal encounter. He lashed me across the face, the wire tip on his whip cutting a bad gash in my cheek. The little hatchet that I had carried in my hunting days was in my belt and McDonal was carried unconscious from the scene. I was placed under guard but Ensign Henry Bullock and Private Elkanah Millard had both witnessed the encounter. They gave Captain McClellan the facts and I was never brought to trial. Years later I met 2nd Lieutenant Riley and Ensign Bullock at Bristol at John Roberson�s show, and Bullock jokingly reminded me that there was a case still pending against me before a court martial and wanted to know how much longer I was going to have the trial put off? McDonal finally recovered, and in the year 1851, was running a boat out of Memphis, Tennessee. The long painful journey to the west ended March 26th, 1839, with four-thousand silent graves reaching from the foothills of the Smoky Mountains to what is known as Indian territory in the West. And covetousness on the part of the white race was the cause of all that the Cherokees had to suffer. Ever since Ferdinand DeSoto made his journey through the Indian country in the year 1540, there had been a tradition of a rich gold mine somewhere in the Smoky Mountain Country, and I think the tradition was true. At a festival at Echota on Christmas night 1829, I danced and played with Indian girls who were wearing ornaments around their neck that looked like gold. In the year 1828, a little Indian boy living on Ward creek had sold a gold nugget to a white trader, and that nugget sealed the doom of the Cherokees. In a short time the country was overrun with armed brigands claiming to be government agents, who paid no attention to the rights of the Indians who were the legal possessors of the country. Crimes were committed that were a disgrace to civilization. Men were shot in cold blood, lands were confiscated. Homes were burned and the inhabitants driven out by the gold-hungry brigands. Chief Junaluska was personally acquainted with President Andrew Jackson. Junaluska had taken 500 of the flower of his Cherokee scouts and helped Jackson to win the battle of the Horse Shoe, leaving 33 of them dead on the field. And in that battle Junaluska had drove his tomahawk through the skull of a Creek warrior, when the Creek had Jackson at his mercy. Chief John Ross sent Junaluska as an envoy to plead with President Jackson for protection for his people, but Jackson�s manner was cold and indifferent toward the rugged son of the forest who had saved his life. He met Junaluska, heard his plea but curtly said, "Sir, your audience is ended. There is nothing I can do for you." The doom of the Cherokee was sealed. Washington, D.C., had decreed that they must be driven West and their lands given to the white man, and in May 1838, an army of 4000 regulars, and 3000 volunteer soldiers under command of General Winfield Scott, marched into the Indian country and wrote the blackest chapter on the pages of American history. Men working in the fields were arrested and driven to the stockades. Women were dragged from their homes by soldiers whose language they could not understand. Children were often separated from their parents and driven into the stockades with the sky for a blanket and the earth for a pillow. And often the old and infirm were prodded with bayonets to hasten them to the stockades. In one home death had come during the night. A little sad-faced child had died and was lying on a bear skin couch and some women were preparing the little body for burial. All were arrested and driven out leaving the child in the cabin. I don�t know who buried the body. In another home was a frail mother, apparently a widow and three small children, one just a baby. When told that she must go, the mother gathered the children at her feet, prayed a humble prayer in her native tongue, patted the old family dog on the head, told the faithful creature good-by, with a baby strapped on her back and leading a child with each hand started on her exile. But the task was too great for that frail mother. A stroke of heart failure relieved her sufferings. She sunk and died with her baby on her back, and her other two children clinging to her hands. Chief Junaluska who had saved President Jackson�s life at the battle of Horse Shoe witnessed this scene, the tears gushing down his cheeks and lifting his cap he turned his face toward the heavens and said, "Oh my God, if I had known at the battle of the Horse Shoe what I know now, American history would have been differently written." At this time, 1890, we are too near the removal of the Cherokees for our young people to fully understand the enormity of the crime that was committed against a helpless race. Truth is, the facts are being concealed from the young people of today. School children of today do not know that we are living on lands that were taken from a helpless race at the bayonet point to satisfy the white man�s greed. Future generations will read and condemn the act and I do hope posterity will remember that private soldiers like myself, and like the four Cherokees who were forced by General Scott to shoot an Indian Chief and his children, had to execute the orders of our superiors. We had no choice in the matter. Twenty-five years after the removal it was my privilege to meet a large company of the Cherokees in uniform of the Confederate Army under command of Colonel Thomas. They were encamped at Zollicoffer and I went to see them. Most of them were just boys at the time of the removal but they instantly recognized me as "the soldier that was good to us". Being able to talk to them in their native language I had an enjoyable day with them. From them I learned that Chief John Ross was still ruler in the nation in 1863. And I wonder if he is still living? He was a noble-hearted fellow and suffered a lot for his race. At one time, he was arrested and thrown into a dirty jail in an effort to break his spirit, but he remained true to his people and led them in prayer when they started on their exile. And his Christian wife sacrificed her life for a little girl who had pneumonia. The Anglo-Saxon race would build a towering monument to perpetuate her noble act in giving her only blanket for comfort of a sick child. Incidentally the child recovered, but Mrs. Ross is sleeping in a unmarked grave far from her native Smoky Mountain home. When Scott invaded the Indian country some of the Cherokees fled to caves and dens in the mountains and were never captured and they are there today. I have long intended going there and trying to find them but I have put off going from year to year and now I am too feeble to ride that far. The fleeing years have come and gone and old age has overtaken me. I can truthfully say that neither my rifle nor my knife were stained with Cherokee blood. I can truthfully say that I did my best for them when they certainly did need a friend. Twenty-five years after the removal I still lived in their memory as "the soldier that was good to us". However, murder is murder whether committed by the villain skulking in the dark or by uniformed men stepping to the strains of martial music. Murder is murder, and somebody must answer. Somebody must explain the streams of blood that flowed in the Indian country in the summer of 1838. Somebody must explain the 4000 silent graves that mark the trail of the Cherokees to their exile. I wish I could forget it all, but the picture of 645 wagons lumbering over the frozen ground with their cargo of suffering humanity still lingers in my memory. Let the historian of a future day tell the sad story with its sighs, its tears and dying groans. Let the great Judge of all the earth weigh our actions and reward us according to our work. Children - Thus ends my promised birthday story. This December the 11th 1890. http://www.powersource.com/cherokee/burnett.html http://www.chota.com/cherokee/trail.html

My furthest-removed to whom I can trace actual geneology is John Hemming, Shakespeare's publisher. In Shakespeare's will there is provision for having a gold ring made for him in remembrance. My absolutely furthest-removed ancestor was King Hemming of Denmark, who is listed in the 1910 edition of the Encyclopaehia Britannica as having come to an agreement with Charelmagne not to expand into Scandanavia.

The probability I am related to that king is about the same as my chances of assuming the throne of England - Nil! Anyone who was a follower of his adapted the name when they did their pillaging and other incursions into the British Isles - so I am English with Danish blood utimately - but of the quite ordianry sort!

Uniform spelling of names or words of any sort, for that matter, did not arise till much after Shakespeare's time. Will used at least 7 known spellings of his last name and John did as well. Mine has evolved into what you see now. http://web.uvic.ca/shakespeare/Library/SLTnoframes/stage/chamberlainsmen.html#heminge John Heminge Heminge was the business manager for the company. There is a tradition that he created the part of Falstaff. Together with Henry Condell, he prepared the important First Folio of Shakespeare's works (1623). Provisions of the will: Shakespeare left the bulk of his estate to his eldest daughter, Susanna, including his real estate holdings in Stratford and London. The will was amended in respect to his younger daughter Judith's* inheritance, possibly because of her recent marriage. He left her �300 and a silver gilt bowl. Shakespeare also provided for his granddaughter, Elizabeth Hall, and his sister, Joan, and her sons. He donated 10 pounds to the poor of Stratford, a generous sum in those days. To his fellows, John Heminge, Richard Burbage and Henry Condell, he left 28 shillings and 6 pence to buy memorial rings.

This man was my father's second cousin once removed (a generation older than my father.) He was one hunk of a man. At the height of his popularity, he was dubbed by his studio the "King of Photo-Play." The attendance of his movies by appreciative fans seconded the motion. They were responding to the charisma of Francis X. Bushman (1883-1966), truly the screen's first matinee idol. While the term may seem superficial, he represented the type when it meant something. His physical features were well suited for his first love, the stage. He possessed a classic profile like John Barrymore. Yet, unlike Barrymore, Bushman treated his strapping, muscular body like a temple, and women understandably swooned. It wasn't just about looks. Bushman was an actor of range and depth who had deep reverence for his profession. When stage work became scarce, Bushman saw the future of film was lucrative enough for his tastes. He entered films in 1911, becoming an instant asset for Bronco Billy Anderson's Essanay Studio. It was at this company that Bushman would become the biggest star that the movies had yet produced. Bushman packed them in playing princes, paupers, lovers, and athletes. However, his career was all but over by 1918. Why? Bushman had everything going for him. He had moved up the ladder of success in an almost meteoric fashion. He radiated a super confidence that saturated his personality and impressed those around him. The young and successful stage star married 18-year-old seamstress Josephine Fladume in 1902. By 1909, they had five children (two who later joined the acting profession - Francis Jr., a.k.a. Ralph Bushman, 1903-1978, and Lenore Bushman, b. 1909). Bushman of "Bushmanor" was a man of intellect and refinement, a model husband, dedicated churchgoer, patriot and social leader who commanded genuine respect. His fall from grace was falling in love with another woman. She happened to be Beverly Bayne (1892-1982), his leading lady. They had met in 1912, made a number of pictures together (their first film was A Good Catch (Essanay, 1912)) and were considered the screen's first red-hot romantic teaming. Bushman guided their joint career, deciding what vehicles were bet suited for the couple. One of their biggest hits was Romeo and Juliet (Essanay, 1916), which was even more successful than Fox's version with Theda Bara released that same year. Their relationship culminated in marriage in the summer of 1918, a mere three days after his divorce was finalized. For a man of such sterling character, this event was nothing less than scandalous. Bushman married his leading lady, but created a moral dilemma in the process. Neither the public nor the industry could accept it. The couple was washed-up in pictures. As a result, they went on the vaudeville circuit and performed comedic sketches. They would attempt to come back to movies in the early 1920s under their own production banner of "Bushman Pictures." By 1925, the marriage that had rocked Hollywood was over. Ironically, the split occurred at the beginning of Francis X. Bushman's comeback. Securing a job through the Goldwyn merger at the newly-formed, yet already prestigious M-G-M Studio, he was given the meaty role of "Messala" in the epic Ben-Hur (1925) (44k jpeg) - a part he almost turned down. Full of reluctance, he went to see his friend William S. Hart, who had established the role on the stage: "Bill, do you think I ought to play this filthy Roman?" "Frank, that's the best goddamned part in the picture." Bushman accepted the part and almost stole the show. The years had not diminished his physical magnificence or his larger-than-life appeal. However, the long weeks of separation on location in Italy took their toll on the shaky marriage, and the couple divorced before the film's release. It had been proven what studio mogul Louis B. Mayer gave with one hand, he could take away with the other. Bushman found himself blacklisted at the end of production of Ben-Hur (this meant no publicity for his prominent role as Messala nor any more films for M-G-M). The story goes that the boss wanted to visit the actor in his dressing room and was Mayer given the message that he was not to disturb Bushman's concentration. Not a wise move for the self-absorbed thespian. He had grievously offended the powerful potentate who bowed to no one. Mayer's subsequent actions hurt Bushman's career (the actor admitted as much), but it did not sink him. He would survive this setback and continue for many decades appearing in sound films, radio and television. Francis X. Bushman: A Biography and Filmography is a complete homage to a one-of-a-kind performer who created the model for the modern leading man. The authors secured the kind cooperation of Virginia Bushman Conway Stuart, the third child from Bushman's first marriage (and wife of director Jack Conway, m. 1926). She provided lively commentary about her father which makes the book even more authentic in its narrative. Thanks to this actor's legacy, the advent of the matinee idol will forever symbolize a more stylish era when silent movies reigned supreme and Francis X. Bushman ruled as the "King of Photo-Play."

And, if you have read all of this sordid little story you should be told that Virginia Conway is the mother of Tim Conway, thus I am related to him, as well. The above story was from http://www.mdle.com/ClassicFilms/FeaturedBook/book47.htm

Lance's illustrious ancestor: Lord Robert Stephenson Smyth Baden-Powell The name of Baden-Powell is known and respected throughout the world as that of a man who in his 83 years led two separate and complete lives, one as a soldier fighting for his country, and the other as a worker for peace through the brotherhood of the Scout Movement. Robert Stephenson Smyth Baden-Powell, known as B-P, was born at 6 Stanhope Street (now 11, Stanhope Terrace) Paddington, London on 22nd February 1857. He was the sixth son and the eighth of ten children of the Reverend Baden Powell, a Professor at Oxford University. The names Robert Stephenson were those of his Godfather, the son of George Stephenson the railway pioneer. His father died when B-P was only three years old and the family were left none too well off. B-P was given his first lessons by his mother and later attended Rose Hill School, Tunbridge Wells, where he gained a scholarship for admittance to Charterhouse School. Charterhouse School was in London when B-P first attended but whilst he was there it moved to Godalming in Surrey, a factor which had great influence later in his life. He was always eager to learn new skills. He played the piano and the violin. He acted - and acted the clown too at times. While at Charterhouse he began to exploit his interest in the arts of scouting and woodcraft. In the woods around the school B-P would hide from his masters as well as catch and cook rabbits, being careful not to let tell-tale smoke give his position away. The holidays were not wasted either. With his brothers he was always in search of adventure. One holiday they made a yachting expedition round the south coast of England. On another they traced the Thames to its source by canoe. In all this Baden-Powell was learning the arts and crafts which were to prove so useful to him professionally. B-P was certainly not known for his high marks at school, as his end-of-term reports revealed. One records "mathematics - has to all intents given up the study", and another "French - could do well but has become lazy, often sleeps in school". Nevertheless he took an examination for the Army and placed second among several hundred applicants. He was commissioned straight into the 13th Hussars, bypassing the officer training establishments. Later he became their Honorary Colonel. Military Life In 1876 he went to India as a young army officer and specialized in scouting, map-making and reconnaissance. His success soon led to his training other soldiers for the work. B-P's methods were unorthodox for those days; small units or patrols working together under one leader, with special recognition for those who did well. For proficiency, B-P awarded his trainees badges resembling the traditional design of the north compass point. Today's universal Scout badge is very similar. Later he was stationed in the Balkans, South Africa and Malta. He returned to Africa to help defend Mafeking during its 217-day siege at the start of the Boer war. It provided crucial tests for B-P's scouting skills. The courage and resourcefulness shown by the boys in the corps of messengers at Mafeking made a lasting impression on him. In turn, his deeds made a lasting impression in England. Returning home in 1903 he found that he had become a national hero. He also found that the small handbook he had written for soldiers ("Aids to Scouting") was being used by youth leaders and teachers all over the country to teach observation and woodcraft. He spoke at meetings and rallies and whilst at a Boys' Brigade gathering he was asked by its Founder, Sir William Smith, to work out a scheme for giving greater variety in the training of boys in good citizenship. Beginnings of the Movement B-P set to work rewriting "Aids to Scouting", this time for a younger readership. In 1907 he held an experimental camp on Brownsea Island, Poole, Dorset, to try out his ideas. He brought together 22 boys, some from private schools and some from working class homes, and put them into camp under his leadership. The whole world now knows the results of that camp. "Scouting for Boys" was published in 1908 in six fortnightly parts. Sales of the book were tremendous. Boys formed themselves into Scout Patrols to try out ideas. What had been intended as a training aid for existing organizations became the handbook of a new and ultimately worldwide Movement. B-P's great understanding of boys obviously touched something fundamental in the youth of England and worldwide. "Scouting for Boys" has since been translated into more than 35 languages. Without fuss, without ceremony and completely spontaneously boys began to form Scout Troops all over the country. In September 1908 Baden-Powell had set up an office to deal with the large number of enquiries which were pouring in. Scouting spread quickly throughout the British Empire and to other countries until it was established in practically all parts of the world. It was abolished later in countries which became totalitarian (Scouting is essentially democratic and voluntary). He retired from the army in 1910, at the age of 53, on the advice of King Edward VII who suggested that he could now do more valuable service for his country within the Scout Movement. So all his enthusiasm and energy were now directed to the development of Boy Scouting and Girl Guiding. (Girl Guiding had started in 1909 when girls attended the first Scout rally at Crystal Palace in London and asked B-P how they could become Scouts.) He travelled to all parts of the world, wherever he was most needed, to encourage growth and give the inspiration that he alone could give. In 1912 he married Olave Soames who was his constant help and companion in all this work. They had three children (Peter, Heather and Betty). Olave Lady Baden-Powell was later known as World Chief Guide. Chief Scout of the World The first international Scout Jamboree took place at Olympia, London in 1920. At its closing scene B-P was unanimously acclaimed as Chief Scout of the World. Successive International gatherings, whether of Scouts or of leaders proved that this was not an honorary title, but that he was truly regarded by them all as their Chief. The shouts that heralded his arrival, and the silence that fell when he raised his hand, proved beyond any doubt that he had captured the hearts and imaginations of his followers in whatever country they lived. At the third World Jamboree, held in Arrowe Park, Birkenhead, England, the Prince of Wales announced that B-P would be given Peerage by H.M. the King. The news was received with great rejoicing. B-P took the title of Lord Baden-Powell of Gilwell. Gilwell Park was the international training Centre he had created for Scout leaders. Scouting was not B-P's only interest. He enjoyed acting, fishing, playing polo and big game hunting. He was a very good artist, working in pencil and water-colours. He also had an interest in sculpting and making home movies. B-P wrote no fewer than 32 books. He received honorary degrees from at least six Universities. In addition, 28 foreign orders and decorations and 19 foreign Scout awards were bestowed upon him. In 1938, suffering from ill-health, B-P returned to Africa, which had meant so much in his life, to live in semi-retirement at Nyeri, Kenya. Even there he found it difficult to curb his energies, and he continued to produce books and sketches. On January 8th, 1941, at 83 years of age, B-P died. He was buried in a simple grave at Nyeri within sight of Mount Kenya. On his head-stone are the words "Robert Baden-Powell, Chief Scout of the World" surmounted by the Boy Scout and Girl Guide Badges. Lady Olave Baden-Powell carried on his work, promoting Scouting and Girl Guiding around the world until her death in 1977. She is buried alongside Lord Baden-Powell at Nyeri. http://www.scout.org/wso/facts/bp.html#chief

I met Lord Baden-Powell on Cromwell Road in London where a spectacular statue is situated. In bronze he is energetically lunging forward much as he did in life. Handsome and vital, he must have been a singular individual! His lineal descendant is not bad, either!

Thanks for the kind words about my umpteenth removed cousin, Marcia.

Delighed to have the chance. I am still hunting down King Hemming. Anyone out there with a scanner and a 1910 edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica? I shall hunt him down in the internet...*sigh*

ok, some of my mother's german relatives moved to the states. one older cousin (ann hamilton) of hers told us that we are related to besty ross and two dudes who signed the declaration of independence. her husband was a professor in pennsylvania and has a library named for him. oh, and some guy on dad's side was a country singer (don't ask me who, dunno). how do you go about finding out who you're related to if a lot of the folks you'd get this info from are dead?

Ah....see? That's the beauty of this place. The dead ones cannot refute your claims! Thanks for posting this. Btw, we all have less than notable relatives who lead interesting lives. Like John's ancestor who lead off this topic. Let's hear about those ordinary lived made extraordiany by being witnesses to history. I wonder if David will ever find me an interesting ancestor *grin* Oh, and you can brag about your children in here, as well.

the future ancestors!

Precisely. Since we are not talking about the predecessors, perhaps we could write about our successors. I like that idea and this is as good a place to do it as any.

My procedant (is that a word?)has found someone who has agreed to marry him despite my collection of genes spoken of above. There are even more of which I will write presently. Somehow I cannot see myself as a grandmother. Of course, they are being old-fashioned and getting married first.

In responce 3 of 17: Marcia (Tue, May 16, 2000 (20:04) * 3 lines) wrote: "My furthest-removed to whom I can trace actual genealogy is John Hemming, Shakespeare's publisher. In Shakespeare's will there is provision for having a gold ring made for him in remembrance." I am doing genealogy research on the Hemming Family. So far my oldest identified descendant is Samuel Hemming, born 1686, who was married to Salinah Duke. Do you have any records of these people? Could you suggest how I can find John Hemming's known descendants? Thank you. E Besch ebech1@msn.com

Some of my ancestors were on the Titantic, the three Frauenthals who made it to the lifeboats. They're on the passenger list which is many places on the web.

I know a prominent Hall family in Hilo whose most notable ancestors were also on the Titanic. They went down with the ship. I simply must write about Michael Everly, my ancestor from the American Revolution. My cousin has the website. As soon as I catch up with Geo...

I probably quailfy. I AM a Hemming. I can give you much data but the Hemming family to which I belong came to the US in the early 1900's. I'd love to know if you are related..!

Anyone else with notable ancestors?

Do you know, I have gotten inquiries about both John Hemming (the way WE spell it) and Michael Everly !! People out there are really reading it. I have a possible distant relative's email awaiting answering. It is funny to trade family tales about very distant ancestors !! Do you know, one of the most noble and kind people I know came from dirt farmers who made America great in the first place. This site is just an exercise in history having nothing whatsoever to do with what you are today. Please keep that in mind. How about other-than-American readers? I'd love to hear of famous or just notorious relatives. I just got rid of one related to Honus Wagner.

Barney Frauenthal. http://barneyfrauenthal.com

Thank you Terry! How terrifically interesting. I'd love to spend a long winter night listening to that gentleman's reminiscences. Thanks for adding him.

It's cool that, well, I'll just run the quote: Mr. Frauenthal's entire business career has been identified with railroad service and his activities have been of a most constructive and important character. His original method of organizing the bureau of information won for him a national reputation, and his advance from that position has been steady on account of his capable and quick grasp of his duties.

Good man ! I love biographies.