2026 - 9 Conflicting Clues: One Man, Two Posts, and a Cemetery Mystery

 James Goldsmith (1817–1891), My Paternal 2nd Great Grandfather

Company D, 80th Indiana Volunteer Infantry

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 9: February 26 - March 4, 2026

Prompt: Conflicting Clues

Conflicting Clues

Two Civil War veterans.

Same name.

Same county.

Same cemetery.

One buried by the F. M. Stanton Post of the Grand Army of the Republic.

Another buried under the auspices of the Stone River Post.

For a time, I was convinced there were two James Goldsmiths buried in Peru Cemetery in Chautauqua County, Kansas.

There weren’t.

The Confusion

On 26 August 1891, a Sedan, Kansas newspaper reported:

“James Goldsmith, an old soldier, died near Peru on last Friday and was buried on Saturday under the auspices of the Stone River Post… He was a member of Co. D 80th Indiana Infantry.”

August 26, 1891

Two days later, on 28 August 1891, another notice read:

“Uncle Jimmy Goldsmith died last Friday. Another old soldier gone to his final muster. He was buried in the cemetery at Peru, on Saturday, by the comrades of F. M. Stanton Post, G.A.R., of which deceased was a member.”

August 28, 1891

Two different GAR posts.

Two slightly different presentations of the same burial.

The affectionate “Uncle Jimmy” in one.

The formal “James Goldsmith” in the other.

It felt like evidence of two separate veterans.

The Soldier

James Goldsmith was born 25 January 1817 in Hardin County, Kentucky, to Reuben Goldsmith and Anne Morrison. In 1844 he married Susannah Harding in Martin County, Indiana. By 1862 he was a forty-four-year-old farmer and father of seven children living near Alfordsville, Indiana.

On 12 August 1862 he enlisted in Company D, 80th Indiana Volunteer Infantry, commanded by John N. Tucker.

He mustered in at Princeton, Indiana, on 3 September 1862. Soon after, his regiment moved into Kentucky during one of the most volatile campaigns of the war.

On 8 October 1862, James was taken prisoner while his regiment was engaged at the Battle of Perryville.

That day, cannon fire shattered what had been a quiet rural landscape. Perryville became the site of the most destructive Civil War battle fought in Kentucky, leaving more than 7,600 killed, wounded, or missing. It marked the South’s last serious attempt to gain possession of the state.

James’s service was brief. On 9 April 1863 he received a Certificate of Disability for Discharge for “general disability in consequence of an attack of fever.”

The Long Road to Pension

The struggle did not end with discharge.

On 18 January 1886 — more than twenty years later — James filed a Declaration for Original Invalid Pension.

His pension was not approved until 21 January 1891, at the rate of $6 per month for “chronic diarrhea and age.”

In May 1891, only three months before his death, he filed a Declaration for Increase of an Invalid Pension, stating that because of chronic diarrhea and old age he was unable to perform manual labor and depended wholly upon his pension for his living. He believed the rate granted to him was too low and disproportionate to others.

There is no indication that an increase was granted.

He died on 21 August 1891.

From Kentucky to Kansas

James’s life followed a familiar westward pattern.

Born in Kentucky, he married and farmed in Indiana for decades. After the war, he remained there for several years before eventually moving west. By 1875 he was in what became Chautauqua County, Kansas. By 1880 he was living in Sedan Township.

He was a charter member of Stone River GAR Post #74.

And he was buried in Peru Cemetery.

James Goldsmith, Peru Cemetery, Chautauquah County, Kansas

There is only one Civil War headstone there for a James Goldsmith.

It reads:

James Goldsmith

Co. D

80th Ind. Inf.

There is no second stone.

No second burial.

No second Civil War veteran by that name in Chautauqua County.

The Resolution

On 12 October 2024, I visited the Chautauqua County Historical & Genealogical Society in Sedan, Kansas.

Chautauqua County Historical and Genealogical Society, Sedan, KS

There, staff consulted War Veterans in Chautauqua County, Volume 1. Under “Goldsmith, James,” the entry listed:

• Pvt Co D, 80th Indiana Infantry

• Peru / PO Sedan

• Born Kentucky

• Member E. M. Stanton GAR Post

• GAR Post 74 member #173

The book that held the answer. 

                                                 

In one concise entry, the apparent contradiction was resolved.

James Goldsmith was associated with both posts.

The newspapers were not describing two men.

They were describing one veteran whose affiliations were recorded differently in different contexts.

The conflicting clues were not contradictory.

They were incomplete.

The Lesson

Online research suggested duplication.

Local research provided resolution.

It is absolutely worthwhile to visit the historical or genealogical society in the place where your ancestors lived.

Sometimes a conflicting clue does not lead to a new person.

Sometimes it leads to a clearer understanding of the one you already have.

2026 - 8 Donelson's Flotilla and the Cumberland Compact

Isaac Renfroe, My Maternal 5th Great Grandfather

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 4: February 19 - 15, 2026 

Prompt: A Big Decision

Page 1 of the Cumberland Compact

In 1846, historian A. W. Putnam discovered the only surviving copy of the Cumberland Compact in a trunk that had once belonged to Samuel Barton. Faded but intact, the document bore the signatures of the early settlers of the Cumberland River colony — men who, in May of 1780, agreed to govern themselves in the wilderness.

Among those signatures was my maternal 5th great-grandfather, Isaac Renfroe.

But his big decision had been made months earlier — when he stepped onto a flatboat and pushed off into the current.

DONELSON’S FLOTILLA

  Kingsport, Tennessee, in Sullivan County. 

In 1779 Colonel John Donelson informed the citizens of Halifax County, Virginia, that the government had offered a bounty of land, 640 acres, near the French Lick on Cumberland River to any male 21 years of age and upwards who would become a citizen, build a cabin, raise corn, and be willing to encounter danger and privations. 

By the fall of 1779, Colonel John Donelson and James Robertson had gathered nearly 300 settlers willing to risk everything for land and opportunity along the Cumberland River. Some were prosperous and ambitious. Others were seeking fresh starts. These colonists — newly Americans — looked west with dreams of expansion, wealth, and self-determination. The rivers of present-day Tennessee were not merely obstacles; they were highways to possibility.

At Fort Patrick Henry on the Holston River, the group assembled, camped along the riverbanks, and built approximately forty flatboats for the journey. 

Their route would take them: 

• Down the Holston River

• Into the Tennessee River

• Up the Ohio River

• Then up the Cumberland River

• To French Lick and Eaton’s Station (present-day Nashville)

The journey covered roughly 1,000 river miles and lasted from December 1779 until April 1780.

A reconstruction of one of Colonel John Donelson’s flatboats. Families lived, cooked, slept, and defended themselves aboard vessels like this during the thousand-mile river journey to the Cumberland in 1779–1780.

Colonel Donelson recorded the voyage in his journal, calling it:

“intended by God’s permission in the good boat Adventure…”

Men, women, children — both free and enslaved — made the voyage. One boat even carried a small brass cannon. Fires lined the banks at night. School lessons were held aboard Donelson’s boat during the week.

It was hope and hardship, floating side by side.

Then came the Chickamauga attacks.

Gunfire from high riverbanks.

The massacre of the Stewart family.

The terror of passing through “The Suck” — a violent narrowing of the river where boats collided and nearly capsized.

The flotilla survived — but barely.

On April 12, 1780, Moses Renfroe, Isaac's brother,  and his company separated from Donelson’s main group at the mouth of the Red River. Among that party, according to historical accounts, was Isaac Renfroe.

They intended to establish what became known as Renfroe’s Station, in what is now Montgomery County, Tennessee.

Adams, Tennessee, in Robertson County.

Renfroe’s Station, established at the mouth of the Red River, became the westernmost outpost on the Cumberland. It was led by Moses Renfroe — described as a capable frontier leader, Baptist preacher, and even a skilled gunsmith. It was said that “a Renfroe rifle was a passport all over the west.”

Moses and members of his family, including Jesse and Isaac Renfroe, were Baptist ministers — men accustomed not only to carving settlements from wilderness, but to shepherding souls as well.

The settlement was attacked within months. Some were killed. The station was ultimately abandoned.

Isaac survived.

And soon after, he was present at French Lick when a different kind of decision was made.

THE CUMBERLAND COMPACT

On May 1, 1780, the settlers at the Cumberland gathered at Fort Nashborough (present day Nashville) to create a system of self-government. They were hundreds of miles from established authority. There were no courts, no formal civil structure, and constant danger.

The Cumberland Compact established:

• A court of twelve judges

• A sheriff and clerk

• Rules for land claims

• Procedures for settling disputes

• Local civil governance

It was frontier constitutionalism — practical, immediate, necessary.

And Isaac Renfroe signed his name.

Page 1 of Cumberland Compact Signatures

Signature of Isaac Renfro

Historical Marker in downtown Nashville, Tennessee

AFTER TENNESSEE

The story did not end in the Cumberland wilderness.

By 1797, Isaac Renfro appears in Kentucky land records with a survey for 990 acres on the Rockcastle River in Madison County.

He appears on Garrard County tax lists in 1800.

His widowed daughter Polly remarried in 1802 with the recorded consent of her father, Isaac Rentfro.

By 1806 he was appointed to oversee a precinct in Lincoln County, Kentucky.

Whether every one of these records belongs to the same Isaac must be confirmed carefully — but the pattern suggests a man who survived frontier warfare and went on to secure land and stability in Kentucky.

From river survivor to substantial landholder.

Perhaps that was always the dream.

A BIG DECISION

The Cumberland Compact was signed in May 1780.

But Isaac’s true big decision came earlier — in December 1779 — when he climbed into a flatboat with his family and drifted into the unknown.

Nearly 300 settlers chose to go. They went for land, for opportunity, for expansion, for hope.

They could not see the attacks ahead.

They could not foresee abandoned stations or years of litigation.

They could not know whether their gamble would pay off.

They simply pushed away from shore.

If they had known the cost, would they have gone?

Perhaps.

Because when nothing is certain, anything is possible.

And sometimes the boldest decisions are made before we know the ending.

Here are a few of the sources I reviewed while researching Isaac Renfroe and the Cumberland Compact:

• History of Renfroe Station, Red River (1780), Part 1

https://www.clarksvilleonline.com/2017/01/09/history-renfroe-station-red-river-1780-part-1/

• Cumberland Compact (Wikipedia overview)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cumberland_Compact

• Transcript of the Cumberland Compact and Signers

https://tsla.tnsosfiles.com/digital/teva/transcripts/33634.pdf

• Digital Images of the Original Compact

https://teva.contentdm.oclc.org/digital/collection/tfd/id/422

2026 - 7 A River Runs Through It Part 2

Martha Hennessee McCorkle, My Maternal 3rd Great Grandmother

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 7 - February 12 - 18

Prompt: What the Census Suggests

Collins River, Warren County, Tennessee

Two weeks ago, in blog post 2026 – 7, I wrote about researching how the Collins River winds through Warren County, Tennessee, east of McMinnville. That was the first step in identifying the family of origin for my maternal 3rd great grandmother, Martha.

Whose daughter was she?

I had not found any land records for Martha McCorkle or her children. I did find records for Robert McCorkle, likely her father-in-law, which suggested Martha was living on someone else’s property. To understand whose land that might have been, I went back to the list of neighbors I had created from the 1850 census.

Martha was living in dwelling number 488, with no real estate listed. That absence became a clue.

Who, nearby, did own land?

Two names stood out immediately:

Dwelling 496

Patrick Hennessee – Value of real estate: $2,700

Dwelling 498

Audley Harrison – Value of real estate: $2,000

There were other farmers in the area, but most did not own land at all, or their holdings were valued at $200 or less. These two men represented a different tier of stability and longevity in the neighborhood.

I added Patrick Hennessee and Audley Harrison to my tree as what I call floating limbs — placeholders without known connections — and began researching them further.

Patrick turned out to be Patrick Samuel Hennessee, known by the nickname Paddy. I loved that nickname!  As I dug deeper, the landscape began to echo the family: Hennessee Bridge crossing the Collins River, a Hennessee Cemetery further south, and — intriguingly — one of Martha’s sons named Samuel.

Paddy’s son, Patrick Scott Hennessee, married Hannah Harrison, daughter of Audley Harrison, and named their first child Audley Hennessee. The two large landholding families near Martha were already connecting by marriage. I also began finding references to Harrison Ferry and Harrison Ferry Mountain, reinforcing how tightly geography and family were intertwined.

And not just once. As I continued untangling these families, I discovered yet another daughter of Audley Harrison, Nancy, who married another son of Patrick “Paddy” Hennessee, Archibald—further evidence that these two households were deeply intertwined along the Collins River.

And the paper trail caught up with what the census and the land were already suggesting. In 1859, Nancy Hennessee appeared before the Warren County court and stated plainly that she was the daughter of Audley Harrison, deceased, and that she had married Archibald Hennessee in Warren County, where they had continued to live. Audley Harrison had died intestate, leaving a large estate, and Nancy’s share—five portions—had been invested in a tract of land on the Collins River, containing 66 acres and 33 poles. The court ordered that the land, and any money belonging to her now or in the future, be settled upon Nancy for her sole use, placing it entirely under her control. The mountain didn’t just hold her name—it held her inheritance.

Did I dare do a surname search in my mother’s DNA match list on Ancestry for these two surnames? I did!

I found only three matches descending from Audley Harrison.

I found nine descending from Paddy.

My hopes were rising.

As I examined Paddy’s parents, siblings, and children, Martha fit neatly into the family as Paddy’s sister. Based on prior experience, I knew that if I changed Martha’s maiden name to Hennessee and entered James David Hennessee and Sarah Sally Wilcher as her parents, Thrulines would respond quickly if the hypothesis was correct.

By the next morning, it had.

Between Thrulines matches and additional matches I identified manually, my mother now has 22 DNA matches descending from James David Hennessee and Sarah Sally Wilcher. Those matches represent all seven of their children who had descendants, as well as matches descending from James’s siblings and Sarah’s siblings.

The census didn’t tell me who Martha’s parents were — but it told me where to look, and just as importantly, where not to.

I felt like Meg Ryan’s character in You’ve Got Mail when she says to Tom Hanks, tears in her eyes, “I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly.”

Two weeks ago, I said that one of these days "she’ll be comin’ ’round the mountain and tell me her name".  It turns out the mountain already held her name. It had been there all along, quietly waiting for me in the 1850 census.

2026 - 6 The Cousin Picture

Nolen Family Christmas — The One With All Ten First Cousins

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks - My Maternal First Cousins 

Week 6 · February 5–11, 2026

Prompt: A Favorite Photo

Christmas Eve 1972. The Nolen extended family gathered at my Aunt Sue RoBards’s home in Sand Springs, Oklahoma, as was our tradition.

At the time, my brother Dave—the oldest of the cousins—was serving in the Air Force, stationed at Whiteman Air Force Base in Missouri. It was close enough that he, his young wife Bonnie, and their son Jason were able to come home for Christmas.

This is the only photograph we have with all ten first cousins together, and it’s the one family members ask for again and again. Everyone remembers it, but it isn’t always easy to find when someone suddenly wants to see it—so it has become the cousin picture.

In addition to the cousins named below, the photo also includes my grandparents, Leonard and Elizabeth Nolen; my great-uncle by marriage, Hank Harmon; my mother’s sisters Betty and Sue, along with Sue’s husband Paul; Aunt Phyllis (Uncle Sonny’s widow); Harlow Stillings, Betty’s neighbor; and Jackie Wall, my boyfriend at the time.

Christmas Eve 1972, Sand Springs, OK

Key to the Photo

1. Betty Nolen Grigsby – my mother’s sister

2. Dave Wallis – my brother

3. Peggy Grigsby

4. Jill Nolen

5. Paula RoBards

6. Hank Harmon – widowed husband of my great-aunt Anna 

7. Leonard Nolen – my grandfather

8. Paul RoBards – husband of my Aunt Sue

9. Harlow Stillings – Aunt Betty’s neighbor

10. Elizabeth Nolen – my grandmother

11. Libby Wallis

12. Jackie Wall – boyfriend

13. Jason Wallis – my nephew

14. Bonnie Wallis – my sister-in-law

15. Dog

16. Robbin RoBards

17. Sue Nolen RoBards – my mother’s sister

18. Mark Nolen

19. Storm Wallis – my brother

20. Julie Nolen

21. Margaret Nolen Wallis – my mother

22. Ralph Wallis – my father

23. Phyllis Lane Nolen – widow of my Uncle Sonny

24. Steve Nolen

Aunt Phyllis is now the only one left from her generation. We’ve lost just one of the first cousins—my brother Storm, who died in 2021.

Most of us are still in northeastern Oklahoma. Dave is in Corvallis, Oregon. Peggy lives in Tomball, Texas, but she makes it back to see her fellow Okies a couple of times a year.

This photo endures because it captures something that rarely happens all at once: everyone together, in one place, at one moment in time. Today, it stands as a shared memory of those no longer with us, and a reminder of the family we once were, gathered on a Christmas Eve long ago.

Note added after publication (from my brother Dave):

This photo was taken about six months after my return from a year-long tour of duty in Thailand. I had bought a 35mm Pentax camera overseas and set it up on a chair using the timed shutter. Then I rushed over to get into the picture—just as our “crazy” Aunt Betty grabbed me, which little Jason must have found hilarious. Jenny was born in August 1973, so my young wife Bonnie would have been about a month pregnant when the photo was taken.