2026 - 19 Discovering Louisa Jane Foley

 Louisa Jane Foley, Maternal 2nd Great Grandmother

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 19

Prompt: A Question the Records Can’t Answer (But DNA Can)

Louisa as imagined by ChatGPT.

Initially, I thought she was Louisa Jane Wright—the name listed on the marriage index of my 2nd great-grandparents.

On December 13, 1854, Parmenas James Nolen married Louisa Jane Wright in Jackson County, Arkansas. The record listed:

Parmenas – age 24, from St. Francis County, Arkansas

Louisa Jane – age 22, from Jackson County, Arkansas

The index did not include witnesses, nor did it indicate a prior marriage for either party.

When I searched the 1850 census, I found Louisa J. Wright in Richland Township, St. Francis County, Arkansas, age 18, living with George W. Wright, age 36, a merchant. Given the age difference, I assumed he was her father and built my family tree accordingly.

Then DNA testing changed everything.

When DNA testing became available on Ancestry, I had my mother, Margaret, take a test, which I manage.

On December 27, 2017, I received this message through Ancestry’s messaging system:

“I manage my aunt Alene Foley Gates’ Ancestry test. You show up as a 2nd cousin match to her. She was born to Eugene Dudley Foley and Margaret Caroline Comer Foley on September 28, 1921, in Independence County, Arkansas. We are very interested in how we connect to you and hope to hear from you. Thank you, Linda Karen Clark Courtney.”

Alene shares 218 cM with Margaret, and after weeks—perhaps months—of collaboration, we determined the only logical explanation:

Louisa Jane was not a Wright. She was a Foley.

George Wright was not her father. He was her first husband.

Based on the DNA evidence, Louisa Jane and Alene’s grandfather, John T. Foley, had to be siblings. That would make Alene and Margaret second cousins once removed, which aligns with their shared DNA.

Since Louisa Jane married George Wright before 1850 and then married Parmenas Nolen in 1854, she never appeared on a census with her parents. However, seven of her nine siblings appear in the 1850 census with their parents, Townsend Foley and Christina Bradley Foley. Two additional siblings are with the family in the 1860 census. Margaret has DNA matches who descend from five of Louisa Jane’s nine siblings.

Then I remembered something else.

I had letters written by Louisa’s son, P. J., to his son Leonard—my grandfather. In those letters, he often referred to “the Foley boys,” usually saying, “The Foley boys are all all right.” In one letter, he mentioned “Uncle Bill Foley.”

That was enough to confirm that there was, indeed, a connection to the Foley family.

2026 - 18 A Tradition of Trust: The Service of James Foley

James Foley, My Maternal 5th Great Grandfather

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 18

Prompt: Tradition

James Foley is cited as a patriot by the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR), Ancestor A040196, for Civil and Patriotic Service. His documented service is described as serving on a jury in 1783 and paying a supply tax in 1783, both drawn from Prince William County records. They also cited Hening’s Statutes at Large. 

Image created by ChatGPT

I wanted to know more about what those specific 1783 records actually said about him.

FamilySearch.org’s Full-Text Search feature, which allows searching unindexed microfilm, provided a wealth of documents for James Foley in Prince William County during this time period. Hening’s Statutes at Large were also available online through HathiTrust Digital Library. 

I found numerous personal property tax records for James Foley, though most were undated. Then I came across one that looked different. The title page read:

“A List of Taxable Property in Prince William County for the Year 1783 - Certificate Tax”

This appears to be what DAR cited as a “supply tax.” During and just after the Revolution, Virginia issued certificates to individuals who supplied goods or services to the government. These certificates could then be taxed, redeemed, or recorded at the county level. This tax list was created under Virginia’s post-Revolutionary taxation system, as outlined in Hening’s Statutes at Large.

Although the document itself is a general personal property tax list and is not labeled a “supply tax,” such records are often interpreted—particularly by the DAR—as evidence of financial contribution during the Revolutionary period. While the record does not state what James Foley supplied, it does tax him for horses and cattle. Over time, the number of horses in his tax records remains fairly consistent, suggesting a stable livestock operation—likely including cattle, which could have been used to supply beef.

I found numerous court records showing that James Foley served as a juror in Prince William County. One in particular matched the DAR service description:

Prince William County Court Record, 15 October 1793

James Foley served as a juror in a civil debt case involving Alexander Lithgow and John McMillior.

These records satisfied my curiosity about James Foley’s DAR documented service. But in the process of searching the microfilm, I found much more about his role in the county.

Most importantly, the first person to apply for DAR membership using James Foley’s service did not include that on June 20, 1785, James Foley was listed as an Ensign in the Prince William County militia under Captain John Lawson and Lieutenant William Downman. Two years later, on June 5, 1787, he was recommended by the court as a Lieutenant in the militia.

In the 1780s, James Foley appears on multiple personal property tax lists with:

• 1 white male

• enslaved persons (varying numbers, but fewer than five)

• horses (2–4)

• cattle (11–15)

James Foley appears frequently in the county court records. He held power of attorney for land transactions, appraised property, and testified as a witness in numerous debt claims. In fact, he appears so often that I could understand why in the 1790s the land tax records show an overseer managing his property and livestock operation. About that same time he began to appear in similar court records in Wood County, Virginia (now West Virginia), where several of his children had migrated.

James Foley’s service may not have taken place on a battlefield, but it was no less essential to the life of his community. He served as a juror, a constable, and was trusted in the settlement of estates. He had been named an ensign and later recommended for lieutenant in the county militia. He was a well-respected member of society in two counties—someone who could be counted upon in positions of trust.

A tradition of trust and service in the Foley family took different forms. His brother Mason served in the South Carolina militia, rising to the rank of Captain in the 10th Company of the Spartan Regiment. His son, James Jr., would later serve as a captain in the Fauquier County militia before taking on civil responsibilities of his own in Wood County.

What endured was not rank or title, but something quieter—a tradition of service rooted in trust.

2026 - 17 Wally Wallis: The Old Pro of Oklahoma Sportswriting

Fawn Emery “Wally” Wallis, my 1st cousin 1x removed

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Prompt: Working for a Living

My first exposure to genealogy didn’t come from a book or a class.

It came in 1979, in a letter from my father’s first cousin, Fawn Emery “Wally” Wallis.

He sent my father a family group sheet to complete and return, explaining that he was working on a large Wallis family project. His goal was ambitious: to compile approximately 200 family group sheets as the first phase. In the second phase, he planned to write a full family history and distribute it to family members, as well as to historical societies and libraries across Virginia, Indiana, Ohio, Illinois, Kansas, Arkansas, Missouri, Texas, and California—places connected to our family’s story.

We received some of the group sheets.

But the history never came.

Wally died just two years later, and for years I wondered what had happened to his research. I contacted libraries and historical societies, hoping to find a copy of the Wallis history he had planned. I never did.

Then, decades later, something unexpected happened.

A DNA match appeared on Ancestry—his granddaughter, Beth.

When I reached out, I learned she had the box—his research. Even more surprising, she lived in Overland Park, Kansas, less than two miles from a house I still own there as a rental. On a recent trip to the Kansas City area, I was able to visit her and her family and go through the materials myself.

Inside were binders, carefully organized, along with an index. I even found my place in his system: W1h3c.

Wally's daughter, Lou Ann Wallis Stallcup and Libby Wallis Russell looking at Lou Ann's photos. 

I wasn’t just looking at family history.

I was looking at Wally’s unfinished work—the project that had first introduced me to genealogy.

He had approached family history with the same energy he had given to his career. And that career was one worth remembering.

Fawn Emery “Wally” Wallis was named, his mother said, because he was as soft as a newborn fawn. Those who knew him later might have smiled at that description. He was known as direct, even gruff at times, but beneath it was a deep commitment to his work and to the people around him.

He began his newspaper career as an editorial writer for the Stillwater Daily Press, where he appears in the 1940 census. From there, he moved on to positions at the Sapulpa Herald, the Iola Register in Kansas, and the Poteau News in Oklahoma before joining The Daily Oklahoman and the Oklahoma City Times in 1943. Over the next 27 years, he built a reputation as one of the state’s most respected sportswriters.

Before he became known for golf, Wally made his mark covering high school football. Writing under his “Prep Parade” column, he traveled the state evaluating teams and making bold predictions. His picks stirred debate—fans didn’t always appreciate being told their team would lose—but they paid attention. And more often than not, he was right. In one remarkable season, he correctly predicted all three state champions before the playoffs even began.

His work required him to be everywhere, and the paper made sure he could. He was given a bright red automobile to travel the state—an image that perfectly captures the role he played, moving from town to town, watching, evaluating, and writing.

Over time, his focus shifted from football to golf, and it was there that he achieved his greatest recognition. Known as “The Old Pro,” Wally became the state’s foremost golf authority. He won national awards for his writing, including a 1959 honor for the best golf news story of the year covering Charley Coe’s U.S. Amateur victory.

He didn’t just write about golf—he lived it. He traveled internationally, playing courses in England, Scotland, and Ireland, including the legendary St. Andrews. His peers respected him as much as his readers did. He served as president of the Golf Writers' Association of America and was active in professional organizations that shaped sports journalism.

Badge from the Golf Writers' Association of America recognizing Wally Wallis as a Past President.

Those who worked with him remembered a man who loved the press box, the locker room, and the long days that came with the job. He once said he never wrote a story if he thought it might hurt someone—a principle that guided his work. He also believed deeply in young athletes, a perspective that traced back to his early years covering high school sports.

One story captures him perfectly. On a trip to the Masters in Augusta, he insisted on a stop at a grocery store as soon as they arrived—cheese, crackers, and soup for lunch. It was a hot, muggy April day, and it was a practical, unpretentious choice. He enjoyed his bourbon, too—another small detail that reminds us that behind the byline was a man as real as anyone he wrote about.

He retired from full-time work in 1970 but continued writing into the late 1970s. By then, his influence extended beyond journalism. Local professionals credited him with helping grow the game of golf in Oklahoma and even playing a role in bringing major tournaments to Oklahoma City.

When he died in 1981 at the age of 75, he was remembered not only as a sportswriter, but as a figure who had shaped the sports landscape of the state. The Governor of Oklahoma declared a Wally Wallis Day, and a children’s golf tournament was established in his honor—fitting for a man who believed that the future of the game lay with its youngest players.

When I met his daughter Lou Ann and granddaughter Beth, we spread photos and papers across the table, comparing faces and stories. At one point I remarked on the family resemblance—“Oh, he has the Wallis nose.” Lou Ann laughed and said, “And I do too.”

Wally Wallis

Ralph Wallis

F.E. “Wally” Wallis and my father, Ralph—same Wallis nose, same ears, same lips that disappear, same hairstyle, the resemblance is unmistakable.

He spent his life writing about others—about games, players, and champions. Late in life, he turned that same focus to his own family, determined to document the story of the Wallis line.

He didn’t live to finish it.

But in a way, the work didn’t end.

Through a DNA match, a box of binders, and a visit just miles from a house I still own, his research found its way back.

And now, I find myself continuing the story he began.

2026 – 16 A Quiet Life: Uncle Bill

 

William Antino Moore, My Maternal Great Granduncle

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 16

Prompt: A Quiet Life

William Antino Moore’s early life started with a bang. His mother, Lucenda Boone, and her husband Lew Boone were living near downtown Tulsa when Lew was shot and killed. (Blog 2025 – 37) The newspaper article about Lew’s murder ends by saying, “He leaves a widow and three children. The family is in very hard circumstances and live at present in a tent near the cemetery.” Uncle Bill, his twin sister Elizabeth, and younger sister Anna were those three children.

Lucenda had documented her marriage to Josiah Coon and the birth records of her children in what our family calls “the Bible page,” just days before Josiah died.

“My twins born in Tulsa Town in I T in Aug 1st 1905 cross street in old house from railroad tracks. Dr. McGinnis name them Billy Antino and Lizzie.”

The 1910 census shows widowed Lucenda, now using the surname of her former husband Josiah Coon, living on a home in the Lynn Lane area of Tulsa County with five children—Burtie, Frank, Willie, Lizzie, and Anna. But later that year, arrangements were made to place the younger three, ages six and four, in the Sand Springs Home.

Bill Moore, Far left, front row, during his short time at the Sand Springs Home.

A letter written by Mr. Breeding of the Home in 1915 states that William never developed mentally and was committed to the state institution in Norman.

In 1920, there is a 17-year-old William Moore enumerated at the state penitentiary in McAlester, working as a woodcutter in the lumber camp. This may be Uncle Bill.

In the 1930 census, he is living in a tent near Newblock Park with his mother and stepfather William Scott, who was a trash hauler. Bill is not working but is recorded as married. I have never seen a marriage record for Uncle Bill, but this census record says that he is divorced. The image appears to have been marked “S” for single, then written over with an “M” and a small “D.” It is also marked “Yes” for veteran of a war.

The 1940 enumeration places Bill in the Eastern State Hospital in Vinita in both 1935 and 1940, which is confirmed in the 1938 obituary for Lucenda.

Uncle Bill was one of three great-uncles known to me. I wrote about Frank in Blog 2025 – 41 and Robert in Blog 2025 – 21. They were all quiet men. My grandmother would drive to Vinita to pick up Robert and Bill and bring them back to Sand Springs for family holiday gatherings.

They were like the three monkeys sitting on a limb—see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

But they were family. And they were included.

Frank Coon, Leonard Nolen, Robert Noland and William Moore.

Nolen family plot, Woodlawn Cemetery, Sand Springs, OK

2026 - 15 Unexpected DNA Reveals: A Story Seven Years in the Making

Mary Jane King/Moore – My Half Great Grandaunt

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 15

This story has had multiple unexpected turns, revealing themselves over a period of seven years.

It began with a group of DNA matches who were uncovering surprises of their own.

When April tested, she and Tracy—who had grown up believing they were full sisters—learned they were actually half-sisters. April shared 142 cM with my mother. Not long after, another match appeared. Cassidy, who shared 198 cM with my mother, had also tested and was soon identified as another half sister.

Then came Angel, sharing 106 cM, revealing yet another half-sister.

One by one, each new test brought an unexpected reveal.

As the evidence developed, it became clear that April, Cassidy, and Angel were all daughters of Walter William Marling.

At one point, I remember thinking that he must have been some sort of sperm donor. Of course, that wasn’t the case—but it did feel like one unexpected child after another was appearing through DNA testing.

At that point, I had not yet identified the parents of my mother’s maternal grandmother, Lucenda, so this growing group of matches immediately caught my attention.

As I began building out the Marling family, I followed what appeared to be a clear line of descent. For a time, everything seemed to fit.

But that assumption did not hold.

Shared DNA matches pointed to another surname: Moses. I reached out to a match named Chase Moses. It took a while to get a response—I followed up every few months—but eventually he replied and told me that his father was actually a Marling.

He suggested I contact his mother, who then gave me the phone number for his grandfather, Johnny Marling, explaining that he was very interested in genealogy.

So I made a cold call.

Johnny shared that as a young man he had gotten two women pregnant around the same time and had been forced to choose between them. One child was raised in his household; the other was not. That decision created a separation in the family that had carried forward for generations.

I encouraged Johnny to take an Ancestry DNA test, and he agreed. When his results came in, they confirmed the connection to Chase—and revealed something more. I was also able to identify a son Johnny had never known.

At that point, I was becoming more convinced that my great-grandmother Lucenda might also be connected to the Marling family.

While building out trees for additional unknown matches, I began to see a pattern. A group of shared matches connected to the surnames Crull and Lent began appearing repeatedly alongside the Marling matches.

One match stood out in particular: N. L., who shared 130 cM with my mother. It took some time, but when her daughter—who managed her DNA—finally responded to my inquiries, she told me that N. L. was a Crull and identified her parents.

With that information, I was able to build her line back to John Franklin Crull, whose parents were Daniel Crull and Elizabeth Lent. Finally, I had a couple that linked the two surname clusters I had been seeing.

And there, in the 1870 census, was their daughter—Lucenda.

When I added that line into my own tree, everything aligned. For the first time, Lucenda had parents.

From there, the pieces began to fall into place.

Because the expected Marling line did not account for the DNA results, I asked Johnny to take a Y-DNA test, expecting the results might point to the Crull or Lent families. They did not. Instead, the results showed a match to the Bousman surname. Combined with a strong autosomal match to a Bousman descendant, this indicated that Johnny’s biological paternal line was Bousman, not Marling. My mother did not have any matches with a Bousman surname, which meant that her connection to the Marling cluster had to come through Johnny’s grandmother, Mary Jane.

It didn’t come together all at once. It came in pieces.

First, there was the match to N. L. Suddenly, Lucenda was no longer just a possibility—she appeared within a network of DNA matches that connected her to a real family.

Then the Y-DNA results made it clear that the Marling line I had been following was not the biological line. That realization forced me to reconsider everything I thought I knew about this branch of the family.

And then came the moment that changed everything. When I discovered that Mary Jane was associated with both the King and Moore surnames, something clicked.

In the 1900 census, Lucenda and her children were recorded under the surname King. Yet in later records, her younger children—including my grandmother—were known by the surname Moore.

This shift in surnames had always been difficult to explain. But now, in light of the DNA evidence, it began to make sense. The changing names were not random—they reflected the complex relationships within this family.

What had once seemed like inconsistencies in the records were now clues. The shifting names, the scattered documents, and the DNA connections all pointed to the same conclusion.

The evidence points to a different biological paternal line for John Edward Marling, Jr., and strongly supports placing Mary Jane King within Lucenda Crull’s immediate family. 

Given Mary Jane’s birth about 1890 in Springfield, Missouri, Lucenda’s documented presence in Springfield and later household structure, the most consistent explanation is that Mary Jane was a previously unidentified daughter of Lucenda Jane Crull.

Johnny and I share grandmothers who were half sisters—Mary Jane King/Moore and Elizabeth Moore.

And as with so many genealogical discoveries, each answer has led to new questions—some of which are only just beginning to emerge.

2026-14 Who Were Julia Ann's Parents?

 

Julia Ann, Wife of John Moes Lent

My Maternal Third Great-Grandmother

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 14 

Prompt: Brick Wall Revisited

Some brick walls don’t fall. They shift.

For years, I have been trying to answer a simple question: Who were the parents of Julia Ann, wife of John Moes Lent?

The records tell me just enough to keep me searching—and just enough to keep me guessing.

Julia Ann first appears clearly in the 1850 census in Lagro Township, Wabash County, Indiana. She is forty years old, the wife of a farmer, and the mother of four children. Her birthplace is recorded as Connecticut.

By 1860, the family has moved to Jersey County, Illinois, in the Plasa Precinct near Brighton. Julia Ann is now fifty. Three of her sons have left home, but three daughters remain, including my second great-grandmother, Elizabeth. This time, Julia Ann’s birthplace is given as New Hampshire.

Ten years later, in 1870, Julia Ann is a widow. John Moes Lent died in 1865. She is living in Mercer County, Missouri, in the household of her daughter Mary and son-in-law, William Cox. Her birthplace has returned to Connecticut.

Connecticut. New Hampshire. Connecticut again.

Which is correct?

Following John’s death, a possible clue appears in the 1865 St. Louis City Directory, where a “Julia Ann Lent, widow” is listed. St. Louis sits just across the Mississippi River from where the family lived in 1860, making this a strong candidate. That same year, Julia Ann’s daughter, Lydia Ann Lent, married George Smith in St. Louis on May 26, 1865—placing the family there at exactly the right time.

A more substantial record comes from an unexpected place.

The record that shifted the brick wall—Julia Ann Lent’s Mother’s Pension application.

Julia Ann’s son, Philip, died during the Civil War at Goldsboro, North Carolina, on February 4, 1865. In his widow’s pension file, I discovered five pages relating to a Mother’s Pension filed by Julia Ann.

On July 15, 1867, Julia A. Lent appeared in Probate Court in Putnam County, Missouri, and made oath that she was the widow of John W. Lent, deceased. She stated that she had married John on November 23, 1835, in Onondaga County, New York, by “— — Lake, Esq., J.P.”

She explained that no marriage records were kept in that place at the time and that she could not produce better evidence than the affidavits of her daughters, Mary Cox and Lydia A. Smith, which she asked the court to accept as sufficient proof.

George Smith and William Cox, her sons-in-law, provided written testimony concerning her reliance on her son Philip for support. All of these families were living near Unionville in Putnam County, Missouri.

For the first time, I now know when and where Julia Ann married John Lent.

But even with this new information, the central question remains.

Her birthplace shifts between Connecticut and New Hampshire. No record yet names her parents. No document places her definitively in a family before her 1835 marriage in New York.

This brick wall has not come down—but it has moved.

And sometimes, that is enough to keep going.