The Case of John Whitney’s Wife

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Back in 2018 I wrote about finding my second great-grandmother, Nancy J. Whitney, in the 1850 census and the immediate question that followed:

Who was her mother?

At the time, the census seemed to offer a straightforward answer. With the addition of DNA and Ancestry’s ThruLines®, I expected that question to finally be settled.

It wasn’t.

Instead, the combination of census records, a single marriage record, and a series of land transactions has created one of the most instructive conflicts in my research—and a perfect example of why no single source should ever stand alone.

What ThruLines Does — and Does Not — Tell Me

ThruLines confirms my descent from John Whitney.

It does not identify a wife for him.
It does not suggest a mother for Nancy.
It does not offer a second pathway through another marriage or through a different set of descendants.

In this case, ThruLines is doing exactly what it is designed to do—it is confirming a line. It is not resolving a documentary conflict.

And that silence is important.

The 1850 Census: A Household with Two Adult Women

The 1850 census for Wayne County, Ohio, shows the household of John Whitney as:

  • John Whitney, 28
  • Hannah, 24
  • Nancy, 7
  • Mary Belle, 5
  • Lucretia, 3
  • Susannah Robison, 26¹

The census does not state relationships in 1850. Any identification of a spouse is based on the common pattern of enumeration, not on an explicit statement.

What is clear is that Hannah and Susannah are two separate individuals. They have different given names, different ages, and Susannah is listed with the surname Robison rather than Whitney.

Whatever their roles in the household, they are not the same person.

The Marriage Record That Complicates Everything

There is one—and only one—marriage record for John Whitney in Wayne County:

John Whitney to Susannah Robison, 18 August 1842.²

Nancy’s 1843 birth fits this marriage perfectly.

If this were the only record, the conclusion would be simple.

But it isn’t.

The Deeds: A Legally Identified Wife Named Hannah

In a deed, a wife is not named casually. She appears because she must relinquish her right of dower, and she is often examined separately to confirm that she is acting of her own free will.

John appears with Hannah as his wife in multiple land transactions:

On 4 September 1844 (recorded 13 June 1845), John Whitney and Hannah his wife sold land in Wayne County.³

On 13 September 1853, John P. Whitney and Hannah his wife conveyed land to Cornelius Paugh.⁴

On 18 February 1854, John P. Whitney and Hannah his wife conveyed land to Israel Layton.⁵

These are not isolated references. They establish a legally recognized wife named Hannah over a period of at least ten years.

By 17 December 1862, when John sold land again in Wayne County, no wife was named.⁶

Hannah was no longer living—or no longer his legal spouse—by that date.

Establishing That This Is the Correct John Whitney

John’s father, Charles Whitney, died in 1836. His mother, Tamer (Pierce) Whitney, remarried Phillip Yarnell on 31 March 1840 in Wooster, Wayne County, Ohio.⁷

So when John P. Whitney appears in the June Term 1851 partition case with the Yarnell heirs, it confirms that these land and court records belong to the correct man.⁸

In the October Term 1851 case of Rinear Beall vs. John Whitney, the summons was served by leaving a copy at John’s residence “with his wife,” again placing him in a marital relationship at that time.⁹

The Negative Search

If the answer were in the usual places, this would not be a problem.

I have searched for:

  • a divorce record for John Whitney
  • a death record for Hannah Whitney
  • a death record for Susannah Robison or Susannah Whitney
  • any additional marriage for John Whitney

I have also looked for records that might name Nancy’s mother:

  • guardianships for John’s children
  • deeds involving his children
  • death records for Nancy and her sisters

None of them identify a mother.

Could the Marriage Record Be Wrong?

One possible explanation is that the 1842 marriage record misidentifies the bride as Susannah rather than Hannah.

However, the record clearly names Susannah, there is a separate woman of that name in the 1850 household, and there is currently no record connecting Hannah to the Robison family.

That makes this a hypothesis—not a conclusion.

One Conflict, One Conclusion

Taken together, the records establish five things:

John Whitney is Nancy’s father.
He married Susannah Robison in 1842.
He had a legally identified wife named Hannah from at least 1844 to 1854.
Hannah and Susannah were two different women in the 1850 household.
The land and court records all belong to the same John Whitney.

What they do not establish is which woman was the mother of Nancy, Mary Belle, and Lucretia.

ThruLines does not resolve that conflict. The census does not resolve that conflict. The marriage record does not resolve that conflict.

So the only evidence-based conclusion is the same one I reached years ago—now with far better documentation:

The identity of Nancy J. Whitney’s mother remains unproven.

Footnotes

  1. 1850 U.S. census, Wayne County, Ohio, population schedule, John Whitney household.
  2. Wayne County, Ohio, marriage record, John Whitney and Susannah Robison, 18 August 1842.
  3. Wayne County, Ohio, Deed Book, John Whitney and Hannah his wife to Youngs & Augustus Case, 4 September 1844 (recorded 13 June 1845).
  4. Wayne County, Ohio, Deed Book, John P. Whitney and Hannah his wife to Cornelius Paugh, 13 September 1853.
  5. Wayne County, Ohio, Deed Book, John P. Whitney and Hannah his wife to Israel Layton, 18 February 1854.
  6. Wayne County, Ohio, Deed Book, John P. Whitney to Jonathan Potts, 17 December 1862.
  7. Wayne County, Ohio, marriage record, Phillip Yarnell and Tamer Whitney, 31 March 1840.
  8. Wayne County, Ohio, Court of Common Pleas, partition case, June Term 1851, naming John P. Whitney and Yarnell heirs.
  9. Wayne County, Ohio, Court of Common Pleas, Rinear Beall vs. John Whitney, October Term 1851.

John Whitney Through Land and Court Records

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Vital records are wonderful when they exist, but for many people in the early and mid-nineteenth century they are missing or were never created. In those cases, we are left to reconstruct a life from the records that document a person’s economic activity, legal standing, and family connections.

John Whitney of Wayne County, Ohio, and later Saginaw County, Michigan, is one of those men.

He was the son of Charles Whitney, who died in Wayne County in 1836. A few years later his mother, Tamer (Pierce) Whitney, remarried Phillip Yarnell on 31 March 1840 in Wooster, Wayne County, Ohio.¹ That remarriage becomes critical in identifying John in later records, because when John P. Whitney appears in the June Term 1851 partition case with the Yarnell heirs, it ties the adult man directly to his mother’s second marriage and distinguishes him from any other contemporary John Whitney in the county.²

Early Land Transactions

By the late 1840s John was participating in land transactions in his own name. On 19 August 1848 he purchased land in Wayne County, indicating that he had reached adulthood and was established enough in the community to engage in real property transactions.³

There is one—and only one—marriage record for a John Whitney in Wayne County during this period: John Whitney to Susannah Robison on 18 August 1842.⁴ That record fits the birth of his oldest known child the following year. As discussed in a separate post, later records consistently name a wife called Hannah, creating a conflict that remains unresolved. For the purpose of following John’s life, what matters here is that by mid-century he was a married man and the head of a household.

A Wife Named Hannah

The land records provide the clearest view of John’s economic life and identify the woman who was legally his wife for at least a decade.

On 4 September 1844, recorded 13 June 1845, John Whitney and Hannah his wife sold land in Wayne County.⁵ On 13 September 1853, John P. Whitney and Hannah his wife conveyed land to Cornelius Paugh.⁶ On 18 February 1854, John P. Whitney and Hannah his wife conveyed land to Israel Layton.⁷ In each case Hannah was required to relinquish her right of dower and was examined separately, confirming her legal identity as John’s spouse.

By 17 December 1862, when John sold land again in Wayne County, no wife was named, indicating that by that date he was either widowed or no longer legally married.⁸

The 1850 Household and the 1851 Lawsuit

In 1850 John’s household included three daughters—Nancy, Mary Belle, and Lucretia—all under the age of ten.⁹ This places him firmly in the role of a young father in mid-century Ohio.

A small but vivid glimpse of his daily life appears in the October Term 1851 case of Rinear Beall vs. John Whitney. The summons was served by leaving a copy at John’s residence “with his wife,” confirming that he maintained a fixed home and was still living in Wayne County at that time.¹⁰

Migration to Michigan

By 1860 John had left Ohio and was living in Saginaw County, Michigan, in the household of his siblings. This is a classic example of cluster migration, in which family members move together and re-establish themselves in a new location.

Even after relocating, he retained legal ties to Wayne County until the 1862 sale of his remaining land.⁸ That transaction marks the end of his economic presence in the place where he had grown up.

Following the Records

There is still no located death record for John. No probate file has yet been found for him. The identity of the mother of his children remains unresolved, and the absence of a divorce record or death record for either Susannah or Hannah leaves that question open.

What the surviving records do provide is a way to follow him through his life: a boy in a widowed household after 1836, a young man buying and selling land, a husband whose wife repeatedly appeared beside him in legal transactions, a father of three small daughters, a defendant in a county lawsuit, a migrant moving west with his siblings, and finally a man closing out his last piece of property in the county where he came of age.

The story is not finished, but the outline of his life is now visible.

Sources

  1. Wayne County, Ohio, Marriage Record, Phillip Yarnell and Tamer Whitney, 31 March 1840.
  2. Wayne County, Ohio, Court of Common Pleas, Partition Record, June Term 1851.
  3. Wayne County, Ohio, Deed, John Whitney purchase, 19 August 1848.
  4. Wayne County, Ohio, Marriage Record, John Whitney and Susannah Robison, 18 August 1842.
  5. Wayne County, Ohio, Deed Book, John Whitney and Hannah his wife to Youngs and Augustus Case, 4 September 1844, recorded 13 June 1845.
  6. Wayne County, Ohio, Deed Book, John P. Whitney and Hannah his wife to Cornelius Paugh, 13 September 1853.
  7. Wayne County, Ohio, Deed Book, John P. Whitney and Hannah his wife to Israel Layton, 18 February 1854.
  8. Wayne County, Ohio, Deed Book, John P. Whitney to Jonathan Potts, 17 December 1862.
  9. 1850 U.S. Census, Wayne County, Ohio, population schedule, John Whitney household.
  10. Wayne County, Ohio, Court of Common Pleas, Rinear Beall vs. John Whitney, October Term 1851.

The Josiah of New Braintree

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A Tempting but Unproven Identification

The Josiah Many Trees Attach

A large number of online family trees identify my ancestor, Josiah Willington (husband of Polly Hutchinson), as the son of Josiah Willington and Susanna Stearns. This identification almost always rests on a single individual: the child described in Bond’s History of Watertown as “Josiah of New Braintree,” the only known child of Josiah Willington (b. 1745) and Susanna Stearns, who died in 1766.¹

At first glance, this seems appealing. The name matches. The time period overlaps. And “New Braintree” is geographically plausible within a Massachusetts–Vermont migration pattern. But genealogy is not built on plausibility alone.

What Bond Actually Says

Bond is careful, and his wording matters. He identifies Josiah Willington, born April 4, 1745, son of Thomas Willington and Margaret Stone, who married Susanna Stearns. Susanna died in 1766. Bond then lists one child, identified only as “Josiah of New Braintree.”²

Bond does not provide a birth date for that child, nor a marriage, spouse, children, migration trail, or death record. His entry ends there. This is not unusual in compiled genealogies, but it means the identification stops precisely where many modern trees begin to speculate.

The Age Question and the 1810 Census

The 1810 U.S. census for Braintree, Orange County, Vermont shows Josiah Willington as the sole adult male in his household, aged between 26 and 44.³ This bracket allows for a birth as early as 1766. If the “Josiah of New Braintree” were born in the same year his mother died, he would be 44 years old in 1810, which fits the census category.

Census age brackets establish possibility, not identity.

1810 US Federal Census for Braintree, Vermont.
Close-up of Josiah Willington household from the 1810 census.

The Age Gap with Polly Hutchinson

Polly Hutchinson was born in 1782.⁴ If Josiah were born in 1766, he would be approximately sixteen years older than his wife.

Such an age gap is not impossible in late eighteenth-century New England, but it is less typical for a first marriage. Larger gaps are more often associated with widowers, and there is no evidence that Josiah Willington had been previously married before his 1794 marriage to Polly Hutchinson in Worcester.⁵ The age difference does not disprove the theory, but it raises the standard of proof required to support it.

The Hutchinson Cluster in Braintree

The 1810 census page for Braintree is significant for another reason: the Hutchinson family appears on the same enumeration, near Josiah Willington’s household. The households of Lot Hutchinson and Abiathar Hutchinson are recorded in the same sequence as Josiah’s.³ These are not random names. Lot Hutchinson is Polly’s father, and Abiathar Hutchinson is Polly’s brother.⁶

This matters because early federal census schedules were recorded in the order the enumerator visited households, which typically reflects geographic proximity and often reflects kin-based settlement patterns. The Braintree census therefore shows Josiah living within Polly’s family network.

Equally important, there are no other Willington or Wellington households in Braintree in the 1810 census.³ Josiah appears as a single Willington household surrounded not by paternal kin, but by his wife’s family.

This does not prove his parentage, but it does show where his documented family network lies once the record trail becomes clear.

The Temptation to Explain Silence

At this point, it becomes tempting to construct a narrative: Susanna Stearns dies in childbirth or shortly thereafter; Josiah grows up motherless; his father remarries; Josiah becomes estranged from his paternal family; he leaves with no paper trail and reappears years later in Worcester and then Vermont.

This story is emotionally coherent, but genealogy cannot be built on satisfying explanations.

Estrangement is one of the hardest things to prove in eighteenth-century records, but it is rarely completely invisible. Even estranged children often appear in wills, guardianships, land divisions, apprenticeships, or church records. No such record has been found connecting the “Josiah of New Braintree” to the adult Josiah of Worcester and Vermont.

What we have is not evidence of estrangement. It is silence.

The Missing Documentary Bridge

If my Josiah were the son of Josiah and Susanna Stearns, at least one document would reasonably be expected to connect him forward in time: a record naming origin, a removal or church dismissal, a deed, a probate reference, or a Willington kin connection in Vermont.

Instead, the surviving records place him firmly in a different documented pattern: marriage in Worcester in 1794 with both parties “of Worcester,”⁵ residence in Braintree, Vermont by 1810 within the Hutchinson family cluster,³ and probate in Vermont with no references to Massachusetts Willington kin.⁷ No document links him backward to Watertown, Weston, or New Braintree.

Why This Identification Persists

The persistence of this theory in online trees is understandable. Researchers are confronted with multiple Josiah Willingtons in Massachusetts, incomplete birth records, and a conveniently named child whose adulthood is undocumented. Faced with a brick wall, many choose the explanation that makes the puzzle fit.

At present, identifying my ancestor Josiah Willington as the son of Josiah Willington and Susanna Stearns remains possible but unproven. It rests on age compatibility and name alone, without a single document bridging the gap between childhood and adulthood.

Possibility is not proof.

Sources

  1. Henry Bond, Genealogies of the Families and Descendants of the Early Settlers of Watertown, Massachusetts (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1860), Wellington section.
  2. Ibid.
  3. 1810 U.S. Census, Braintree, Orange County, Vermont, households including Josiah Willington, Lot Hutchinson, and Abiathar Hutchinson.
  4. Sutton, Massachusetts, vital records, birth of Molly (Polly) Hutchinson, 1782.
  5. Worcester, Massachusetts, marriage records, Josiah Willington and Polly Hutchinson, 6 September 1794.
  6. Perley Derby, The Hutchinson Family: or the Descendants of Barnard Hutchinson of Cowlam, England (Salem, MA: Essex Institute Press, 1870), entries for Lot Hutchinson and his children, including Polly and Abiathar.
  7. Vermont probate records, estate of Josiah Willington, proved 1818.

Following the Trail

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Worcester, Vermont, and the Limits of Paper Records

If the name problem explains how false parentage is created, geography explains how those errors persist. In the case of Josiah Willington who married Polly Hutchinson, the surviving records form a narrow but consistent geographic trail. That trail begins in Worcester, Massachusetts, and ends in Braintree, Orange County, Vermont. What lies outside that trail is just as important as what lies within it.

What “of Worcester” Actually Means

The 6 September 1794 marriage record for Josiah Willington and Polly Hutchinson states that both parties were “of Worcester.”¹ In Massachusetts vital records, this phrase identifies legal residence at the time of marriage, not place of birth. It does not imply parentage, childhood residence, or family origin.

This distinction matters. Many compiled genealogies treat “of Worcester” as synonymous with “born in Worcester,” but town clerks did not use the phrase in that way. A person could be “of” a town after residing there only briefly, particularly if employment or marriage brought them in.

Worcester Birth Records and a Meaningful Absence

A review of Worcester town birth records for the eighteenth century reveals no births for individuals with the surname Willington or Wellington.² This is not merely the absence of a Josiah; it is the absence of the surname entirely.

Worcester’s vital records for this period are comparatively robust. Numerous families appear repeatedly, and children born to transient laborers are often recorded. The complete absence of the Willington/Wellington surname strongly suggests that Josiah was not born in Worcester and that his family was not established there at the time of his birth.

Negative evidence of this kind does not identify parents, but it does eliminate Worcester as a likely place of origin.

Polly Hutchinson and Worcester County Context

Polly Hutchinson provides additional context. She was born in 1782 in Sutton, Worcester County, Massachusetts, a town located southeast of Worcester.³ Sutton’s birth records include multiple Hutchinson families but, like Worcester, contain no Willington or Wellington births during the relevant period.⁴

This pattern suggests that Josiah’s presence in Worcester was likely tied to adult residence or employment rather than family origin. It is consistent with a scenario in which Josiah relocated to Worcester County as a young man and met Polly there prior to their marriage.

The Vermont Migration Pattern

By the early nineteenth century, Josiah Willington appears consistently in Vermont records. His children’s births, his appearance in the 1810 federal census, and his probate all place him in Braintree, Orange County, Vermont.⁵

This movement fits a well-documented migration pattern: late eighteenth-century settlers moving from central Massachusetts into Vermont following land openings and post-Revolutionary settlement opportunities. Worcester County was a common staging area for this westward and northward movement, even for individuals who had not been born there.

Crucially, none of the Josiah Willingtons documented in Bond’s History of Watertown are traced into Vermont. Bond’s families remain centered in Middlesex County and adjacent towns, with no documented link to Orange County, Vermont.⁶

Why Watertown-Centered Lineages Struggle to Fit

Attempts to link the Vermont Josiah to the Watertown Willington families rely on circumstantial reasoning: shared given names, approximate ages, and geographic proximity. But proximity alone is not enough.

Worcester lies west of Watertown, and while travel between the two was certainly possible, no record has been found placing any of Bond’s Josiahs in Worcester prior to 1794. Likewise, no record places any Watertown-based Josiah in Vermont in the early nineteenth century.

Without documentation showing movement from Watertown to Worcester and then to Vermont, these connections remain speculative.

What the Records Do Show Consistently

Across all surviving records, the Josiah Willington who married Polly Hutchinson appears only in the following contexts:

Worcester, Massachusetts, at the time of marriage in 1794.¹
Braintree, Orange County, Vermont, from at least 1803 through his death in 1817.⁵
Vermont probate and newspaper notices following his death.⁷

He does not appear in Middlesex County town records as a child, does not appear in Watertown family sketches, and does not appear in Worcester birth records. This narrow geographic footprint argues for caution in assigning parentage.

The Value of Geographic Restraint

One of the most difficult disciplines in genealogical research is restraint: resisting the urge to extend a lineage beyond what the records can support. In this case, geography acts as a boundary. It limits which records can plausibly belong to the same individual and which cannot.

Rather than proving who Josiah Willington’s parents were, the geographic evidence clarifies who they likely were not. That clarification is essential groundwork for any future discovery.

Sources

  1. Worcester, Massachusetts, marriage records, 6 September 1794, Josiah Willington and Polly Hutchinson.
  2. Worcester town birth records, eighteenth century, review showing no entries for Willington or Wellington surnames.
  3. Sutton, Massachusetts, town birth records, 1782, birth of Molly (Polly) Hutchinson.
  4. Sutton, Massachusetts, town birth records, review showing no entries for Willington or Wellington surnames.
  5. Vermont vital records and federal census schedules, Braintree, Orange County, including births of children, 1810 census, and death of Josiah Willington in 1817.
  6. Henry Bond, History of Watertown, Massachusetts (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1860), Wellington family sketches.
  7. Vermont Republican and Journal (Windsor), probate notice for Josiah Willington, May 1818.

The Name Trap

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Why Multiple Josiah Willingtons Create False Lineages

One of the most persistent sources of error in New England genealogy is the assumption that identical names refer to a single individual. When a name repeats across generations, towns, and families, records that belong to different men are easily—and often incorrectly—merged.

The case of Josiah Willington illustrates this problem clearly. Multiple men of the same name lived in Massachusetts during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, some contemporaneously. These men are documented in respected published sources, yet none can be automatically identified as the Josiah Willington who married Polly Hutchinson in Worcester in 1794 and later settled in Vermont.

The Six Josiah Willingtons in Bond’s History of Watertown

Henry Bond’s History of Watertown, Massachusetts documents six distinct individuals named Josiah Willington across multiple generations of the Wellington family.¹ These entries demonstrate both the frequency of the name and the danger of assuming identity based on name alone.

The six Josiah Willingtons identified by Bond are:

Josiah Willington, baptized 23 May 1708, son of John Willington and Hannah Morse. Bond identifies this Josiah as “of Weston” and records that he married a woman named Mary.²

Josiah Willington, born 4 April 1745, son of Thomas Willington and Margaret Stone. This Josiah married Susanna Stearns, who died in 1766.³

Josiah Willington of New Braintree, identified by Bond as the son of Josiah Willington (born 1745) and Susanna Stearns.⁴

Josiah Willington, born 4 June 1780, son of Joseph Willington and Dorcas Stone.⁵

Josiah Willington, born 16 September 1796 and died 12 June 1797, son of Thaddeus Willington and Ruhanna Brown.⁶

Josiah Willington, born 17 March 1802, also a son of Thaddeus Willington and Ruhanna Brown.⁷

These entries represent six separate individuals appearing in distinct family sketches and generational contexts. Some lived only briefly, others reached adulthood, and several overlapped chronologically with the Josiah Willington who married Polly Hutchinson in 1794.

What Bond Does and Does Not Establish

Bond’s work demonstrates that the name Josiah Willington was reused repeatedly within the extended Wellington family. This repetition alone makes name-based identification unsafe.

At the same time, Bond does not identify a Josiah Willington who married Polly Hutchinson, does not place any Josiah Willington in Worcester, Massachusetts, and does not trace any Josiah Willington to Vermont. Bond’s sketches are centered on Watertown and nearby Middlesex County towns, and they do not extend to Worcester County or later Vermont settlers.

Bond therefore provides important context for name repetition, but it does not establish identity for the Josiah Willington associated with Worcester and Braintree, Vermont.

Documented Marriages Involving Men Named Josiah Willington

Independent of Bond, Massachusetts town records document several marriages involving men named Josiah Willington or Wellington during the same general period:

Josiah Wellington married Susanna Stearns in 1765.³
A Josiah Wellington married Mary Smith in Sudbury in the early 1770s.⁸
Josiah Wellington married Zilpah Delano in Norton in 1772.⁹
Josiah Willington married Polly Hutchinson in Worcester on 6 September 1794.¹⁰

These marriages involve different women, different towns, and different time frames. No record has been found that connects any of these men to one another through remarriage, migration, or parentage.

The Absence of Willington Births in Worcester

The marriage record of 1794 states that Josiah Willington was “of Worcester,” a phrase that denotes legal residence rather than birthplace. A review of Worcester town birth records reveals no births for individuals with the surname Willington or Wellington at all, not merely the absence of a Josiah.¹¹

This absence is significant. Worcester’s vital records for the eighteenth century are comparatively thorough, and many other families are well represented. The lack of any Willington or Wellington births indicates that the family was not established in Worcester during the period when Josiah would have been born.

This evidence supports the conclusion that Josiah was not born in Worcester, but arrived there from another town or county prior to his marriage.

Overlapping Lifespans and Separate Locations

The existence of multiple adult men named Josiah Willington is further supported by overlapping lifespans. Men marrying in the 1760s and 1770s could still have been living in the 1790s, making it unsafe to assume that a later marriage represents the same individual without corroborating evidence.

Geography reinforces this separation. The towns associated with these Josiahs—Watertown, Weston, Sudbury, Norton, and Worcester—span multiple counties. While movement between towns was common, no record has been found that traces a specific Josiah from any of Bond’s Watertown families into Worcester and then onward to Vermont.

Why Name Duplication Matters

In eighteenth-century New England, the reuse of given names across generations was common. Sons were often named for fathers, grandfathers, or uncles, resulting in multiple contemporaries with identical names living within a relatively small geographic area.

In this case, the presence of six documented Josiah Willingtons means that records must be assigned cautiously. Marriages cannot be merged without proof, and parentage cannot be inferred based solely on name similarity. Bond’s documentation confirms name repetition but does not resolve identity for men appearing outside his geographic scope.

Sources

  1. Henry Bond, History of Watertown, Massachusetts (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1860), Wellington family sketches.
  2. Ibid., entry for Josiah Willington, baptized 23 May 1708, son of John Willington and Hannah Morse.
  3. Ibid., entry for Josiah Willington, born 4 April 1745, son of Thomas Willington and Margaret Stone; marriage to Susanna Stearns.
  4. Ibid., entry identifying Josiah of New Braintree as son of Josiah Willington (b. 1745) and Susanna Stearns.
  5. Ibid., entry for Josiah Willington, born 4 June 1780, son of Joseph Willington and Dorcas Stone.
  6. Ibid., entry for Josiah Willington, born 16 September 1796, son of Thaddeus Willington and Ruhanna Brown.
  7. Ibid., entry for Josiah Willington, born 17 March 1802, son of Thaddeus Willington and Ruhanna Brown.
  8. Massachusetts town records, Sudbury, marriage of Josiah Wellington and Mary Smith.
  9. Massachusetts town records, Norton, marriage of Josiah Wellington and Zilpah Delano, 1772.
  10. Worcester, Massachusetts, marriage records, 6 September 1794, Josiah Willington and Polly Hutchinson.
  11. Worcester town birth records, eighteenth century, review of births showing no entries for the surnames Willington or Wellington.

Who Was Josiah Willington?

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Establishing the Man Before Chasing the Parents

When a genealogical problem remains unresolved after decades of research, the difficulty is often not a lack of effort but a lack of clarity. Before asking who someone’s parents were, it is essential to establish a more basic fact: who the person actually was.

This post documents what can be stated with confidence about Josiah Willington, husband of Polly Hutchinson, without assigning unproven parentage or speculating about his birth.

Josiah Willington in Braintree, Vermont

The most reliable summary of Josiah Willington’s adult life appears in H. Royce Bass’s History of Braintree, Vermont. Bass was writing from town-level records and local knowledge, and his work is generally careful in distinguishing settlers from one another. In his entry for Josiah Willington, Bass states that Josiah “came from Worcester, Mass.; m. Polly Hutchinson; d. in 1817; occupation, carpenter.”¹

Willington Family in History of Braintree, Vermont by H. Royce Bass.

This statement establishes several critical facts. Josiah resided in Worcester, Massachusetts, immediately before settling in Vermont. He married Polly Hutchinson, died in 1817, and worked as a carpenter. Bass then lists Josiah’s children, whose names and order form a consistent family group. There is no indication that Bass is referring to more than one man, nor does he express uncertainty about Josiah’s identity as a settler of Braintree.

Marriage in Worcester, Massachusetts

Josiah Willington married Polly Hutchinson on 6 September 1794 in Worcester, Massachusetts. The marriage record states that both parties were “of Worcester.”²

In late-eighteenth-century Massachusetts records, the phrase “of Worcester” denotes legal residence at the time of marriage rather than place of birth. This confirms that Josiah was a recognized resident of Worcester by 1794, not a transient individual marrying while passing through the town. The marriage record aligns closely with Bass’s statement that Josiah later “came from Worcester” when he removed to Vermont.

Occupation: Carpenter

Bass identifies Josiah’s occupation as carpenter, a detail that helps explain his migration pattern. Carpenters in this period typically learned their trade through apprenticeship or extended employment, lived for years in the towns where they worked, and relocated when land or opportunity became available elsewhere.

This occupational profile fits well with Josiah’s documented residence in Worcester during the early 1790s and his subsequent move to Vermont, where skilled tradesmen were in demand during early settlement.

Removal to Braintree and Death

Josiah eventually settled in Braintree, Orange County, Vermont, where he lived until his death in 1817. Vermont probate records dated the following year confirm his death and demonstrate continuity of identity from Worcester to Braintree.³ No evidence has been found to suggest that more than one man named Josiah Willington lived in Braintree during this period.

Children of Josiah Willington and Polly Hutchinson

H. Royce Bass includes a list of children for Josiah Willington and his wife Polly Hutchinson in his entry for early settlers of Braintree, Vermont.¹ Bass’s account establishes the composition of the household but does not provide full birth details for each child. As is common for early Vermont families, surviving vital records are incomplete, and not every child can be documented with a contemporaneous birth registration.

The children attributed to Josiah Willington and Polly Hutchinson through Bass’s account and corroborated by later records are as follows:

Ashley Hiram Willington, born 25 February 1795.⁴ Ashley’s birth is one of the few supported by a specific date and appears consistently in later Vermont records identifying him as a son of Josiah and Polly.

Lucy L. Willington, born about 1801.⁵ Lucy’s birth year is approximate and derived from later records rather than a surviving birth entry.

David Willington, born 8 April 1803 in Braintree, Orange County, Vermont.⁶ David’s birth is supported by Vermont vital records and consistently attributed to Josiah and Polly.

Polly Willington, born after 1803 and died in 1842.⁷ No contemporaneous birth record has been located for Polly, but her placement within the family is supported by compiled family records and probate-era documentation.

Luther Willington, born after 1803 and died in 1839.⁸ Luther does not appear in surviving birth registers, but his association with the Willington family is consistently reported in later records.

Levi Sylvester Willington, born in 1813 in Braintree, Orange County, Vermont.⁹ Levi’s birth year and parentage are supported by Vermont vital records.

Amos Hubbard Willington, born 24 March 1815 in Braintree, Orange County, Vermont.¹⁰ Amos is the youngest known child, born two years before Josiah’s death, and his birth is recorded in Vermont records.

Although individual birth records have not survived for every child, this group forms a coherent family unit across multiple independent sources. The names, sequence, and time span are consistent with a single household headed by Josiah Willington and Polly Hutchinson, residing in Vermont following their removal from Worcester, Massachusetts.

What Is Not Known

Despite the clarity of Josiah Willington’s adult life, certain facts remain unproven. His birthplace is unknown. His birth year is undocumented. His parents are not identified in any surviving record.

These gaps are not the result of casual research. Town records, county records, newspapers, and published genealogies have been examined repeatedly over many years. The absence of evidence must be acknowledged honestly.

Establishing Identity Before Parentage

In genealogical research, particularly when dealing with common given names, assigning parents before establishing identity often leads to error. This case involves multiple contemporaneous men named Josiah Willington or Wellington living in Massachusetts during the same period. Without careful separation, it is easy to merge records that do not belong together.

By first establishing who Josiah Willington was—where he lived, whom he married, what he did for a living, and where he died—we create a firm foundation for responsible analysis.

Sources

  1. H. Royce Bass, History of Braintree, Vermont (Braintree, VT: Town of Braintree, n.d.), entry for Josiah Willington.
  2. Worcester, Massachusetts, marriage records, 6 September 1794, Josiah Willington and Polly Hutchinson.
  3. Vermont probate records, Orange County, estate of Josiah Willington, proved 1818.
  4. Vermont Vital Records, birth of Ashley Hiram Willington, 25 February 1795.
  5. Vermont Vital Records and later compiled records, Lucy L. Willington, b. c. 1801.
  6. Vermont Vital Records, birth of David Willington, 8 April 1803, Braintree, Orange County, Vermont.
  7. Vermont Vital Records and compiled family records, Polly Willington, d. 1842.
  8. Vermont Vital Records and compiled family records, Luther Willington, d. 1839.
  9. Vermont Vital Records, birth of Levi Sylvester Willington, 1813, Braintree, Orange County, Vermont.
  10. Vermont Vital Records, birth of Amos Hubbard Willington, 24 March 1815, Braintree, Orange County, Vermont.

When History Stops Being Abstract: Discovering a Family Connection to Ethan Allen

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When I was in history class in school, I was bored.
Not because history wasn’t important, but because it felt distant. The people we studied were names on a page—interesting, perhaps, but disconnected from my own life. I remember thinking that history might feel very different if I were actually related to someone we were learning about.

One group that did stand out to me even then was the Green Mountain Boys. Their exploits during the early days of the American Revolution felt bolder and less conventional than the orderly narratives found in textbooks. I remember thinking it would be fascinating to be connected to someone like that.

Years later, through genealogical research, I discovered that I am.

Through documented colonial records, I am a third cousin, eight times removed from Ethan Allen, the outspoken leader of the Green Mountain Boys. While he is not a direct ancestor, he is part of my extended family network, connected through well-documented seventeenth-century New England families.

Who Was Ethan Allen?

Ethan Allen was born on 10 January 1738 in Litchfield, Connecticut, the son of Joseph Allen and Mary Baker.¹ He grew up on the Connecticut frontier and later became closely associated with the territory that would become Vermont. Allen was largely self-educated, deeply independent, and known for his forceful personality—traits that shaped both his leadership and his reputation.

General Ethan Allen
Ethan Allen. Nineteenth-century engraving. Public domain. Image via ReusableArt.com.

Allen is best remembered for his role in the capture of Fort Ticonderoga in May 1775. Leading a force of Green Mountain Boys, along with Benedict Arnold, Allen surprised the small British garrison and secured the fort with little resistance.² The artillery seized at Ticonderoga later proved critical in forcing British troops to evacuate Boston.³

Beyond that single event, Allen remained a controversial figure. He was never formally commissioned as an officer in the Continental Army and frequently clashed with authorities. He was captured by British forces during an ill-fated invasion of Quebec in 1775 and spent more than two years as a prisoner of war.⁴ After his release, Allen continued to advocate fiercely for Vermont’s independence, resisting efforts by both New York and the Continental Congress to assert control over the region.⁵

Allen’s legacy is complex: he was a revolutionary hero to some, a political irritant to others, and a man whose independence often placed him at odds with the very cause he supported.

The Genealogical Connection

The relationship between Ethan Allen and myself is supported by original town, church, and probate records from Massachusetts and Connecticut that document both lines back to a shared seventeenth-century couple.

Ethan Allen’s maternal ancestry traces through Mercy Wright of Deerfield, Massachusetts, the daughter of Judah Wright and Mercy Burt. Mercy Burt was the daughter of Henry Burt and Eulalia March, early settlers of Springfield, Massachusetts. Both Henry Burt and his wife Eulalia are well documented in Springfield town records, church registers, and probate material, and it is through their children that multiple New England family lines descend.⁶

My own lineage also descends from this same couple—Henry Burt and Eulalia March—but through a different child, Dorcas Burt, who married John Stiles. Dorcas appears repeatedly in Springfield and Windsor records, and her descendants are documented across Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Hampshire, and Vermont through successive generations.⁷

Because both Ethan Allen and I descend from Henry Burt and Eulalia March through different children and across multiple generations, we share them as common ancestors. This places us within a distant but clearly documented kinship network rooted in early colonial New England, established through original records rather than family tradition or assumption.

Why a Distant Relationship Still Matters

I am not claiming Ethan Allen as a direct ancestor, nor suggesting that a distant cousin relationship confers historical importance. What it does provide is context.

The Green Mountain Boys no longer feel like anonymous figures acting in isolation. They were men operating within the same colonial communities, family networks, and record-keeping systems as my own ancestors—networks shaped just as much by women as by men. Without women like Eulalia March, Mercy Burt, and Mercy Wright, none of these lines would exist to be traced today.

The American Revolution did not happen in abstraction—it unfolded among families whose lives intersected in ways we can still trace through the records they left behind.

For me, that realization transformed history from something remote into something tangible. It closed a circle that began in a classroom years ago, when history felt dull simply because it felt disconnected.

Sometimes history doesn’t become interesting because it changes—but because our relationship to it does.

Notes

  1. Vital Records of Litchfield, Connecticut, 1721–1850 (Hartford: Connecticut Society of Colonial Wars, 1907), 23.
  2. Ethan Allen, A Narrative of Colonel Ethan Allen’s Captivity (Philadelphia: Robert Bell, 1779), 11–15.
  3. Robert Middlekauff, The Glorious Cause: The American Revolution, 1763–1789 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1982), 284–286.
  4. Allen, Narrative of Captivity, 49–112.
  5. Charles A. Jellison, Ethan Allen: Frontier Rebel (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 1969), 201–245.
  6. Vital Records of Springfield, Massachusetts, to the Year 1850, vol. 1 (Springfield, MA: Springfield Printing and Binding Co., 1923), Burt entries; Hampden County, Massachusetts, Probate Records, estate of Henry Burt (1662).
  7. Vital Records of Windsor, Connecticut, to the Year 1850 (Hartford: Connecticut Society of Colonial Wars, 1904); Vital Records of Westfield, Massachusetts, to the Year 1850 (Boston: New England Historic Genealogical Society, 1904).

Working with French-Canadian Naming Practices

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By the time a researcher encounters a family such as the Seguin dit Laderoute family, it becomes clear that the challenge of French-Canadian genealogy does not lie in missing records. Parish and notarial documentation in Québec is often abundant, continuous, and well preserved. The difficulty lies instead in how names were used and recorded.

The preceding posts have examined devotional given names, dit surnames, and the way these practices intersect across different record types. This final post brings those observations together and offers a framework for working with French-Canadian records without losing track of individuals.

Quebec, Canada, Notarial Records for Pierre Seguin and Barbe Fillion 2 Feb 1704

Names Are Descriptive, Not Fixed Identifiers

In eighteenth-century Québec, names functioned descriptively rather than administratively. A record identified a person sufficiently for its purpose, not permanently or exclusively. Baptismal records emphasized religious identity and parentage. Marriage contracts emphasized legal standing and family affiliation. Later records might emphasize marital status or residence.

As a result, variation in recorded names should be expected. Consistency across every record was neither required nor sought by the clerks who created them.¹

Record Context Matters More Than Name Form

When names appear unstable, context provides continuity. Place, chronology, family relationships, and associates consistently identify individuals even when name forms shift. In the Seguin dit Laderoute family, apparent contradictions dissolve once records are evaluated across an entire lifetime rather than in isolation.

This approach requires resisting the impulse to resolve name differences immediately. Instead, patterns emerge through accumulation of evidence.

Dit Names Are Additive, Not Substitutive

Dit names such as Laderoute added information; they did not replace surnames. Their appearance, disappearance, or reversal within records reflects clerical habit and context rather than a change in family identity. Treating dit names as aliases rather than alternate surnames allows records to be read cohesively.²

Written variations—dit, d’, de, or alias—serve the same function and should be interpreted as equivalent unless evidence suggests otherwise.

Women’s Identities Require Particular Care

Women’s records often reflect multiple identities: birth family, dit name, and marital association. A woman may appear under any of these forms depending on the type of record. This is not evidence of disappearance or duplication but of a system in which identity was situational.

Following women across records requires particular attention to place and relationships, especially in communities where given names repeat across siblings and generations.

Modern Systems Introduce Their Own Distortions

Many difficulties encountered today arise not from the historical records themselves, but from the modern systems used to organize them. Databases that require a single “correct” name or prioritize uniformity can unintentionally fragment individuals or merge distinct people.

Recognizing the limits of modern indexing is an essential part of working responsibly with French-Canadian sources.³

Reading the Records on Their Own Terms

The solution to French-Canadian naming challenges is not standardization, but interpretation. Recording names as they appear, noting variation, and evaluating identity through corroborating evidence allows the records to speak in their own language.

The Seguin dit Laderoute family illustrates that what initially appears confusing often reflects a coherent and functional naming system once its underlying conventions are understood.

Conclusion

French-Canadian records reward patience and context. Names that appear unstable are often reliable once viewed within their cultural and historical framework. By approaching these records with an understanding of devotional naming, dit names, and record-specific priorities, researchers can move beyond frustration and toward clarity.

The goal is not to force eighteenth-century records to conform to modern expectations, but to learn how identity was expressed at the time those records were created.

Notes

  1. Allan Greer, The People of New France (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1997), 63–66.
  2. René Jetté, Dictionnaire généalogique des familles du Québec (Montréal: Les Presses de l’Université de Montréal, 1983), introduction.
  3. Québec, Canada, Vital and Church Records (Drouin Collection); Québec, Canada, Notarial Records, 1637–1935.

When One Person Has Many Names

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After examining devotional given names and dit surnames separately, it becomes clear that the real challenge for modern researchers lies in how these practices interact across different types of records. A single individual may appear under several legitimate name forms over the course of a lifetime, depending on the context in which the record was created.

The Seguin dit Laderoute family provides a clear example of this phenomenon, particularly in the records of Pierre Seguin dit Laderoute’s daughter, Marie Geneviève Seguin dit Laderoute.

Baptismal Identity

Marie Geneviève Seguin dit Laderoute was baptized in 1712.¹ In her baptismal record, she appears with both a devotional given name and a family surname that includes the dit name. At this stage of life, the record reflects the priorities of the Church: religious naming conventions and parental identity.

The baptismal name establishes her place within the family, but it does not define how she will necessarily appear in later records.

Marriage Records and Name Selection

When Marie Geneviève married Jean Beauchamp in 1731, her name appears in a notarial marriage record that identifies her as Geneviève Seguin dit Laderoute.² In this context, the emphasis shifts. The notary’s concern is legal identity and family affiliation rather than devotional completeness.

The omission of “Marie” in this record does not indicate a different person. Instead, it reflects the common practice of using the second given name as the practical identifier in adulthood.

Later Records and Variability

In later records associated with Marie Geneviève—whether related to the baptisms of her children, the marriages of those children, or notarial acts involving the family—her name may appear in additional forms. She may be recorded as Geneviève Seguin, Geneviève Laderoute, or Geneviève Beauchamp, depending on the type of record and the habits of the clerk.³

Each of these forms is historically valid. None represents a change in identity. Rather, each reflects a different aspect of her life: birth family, married status, or legal context.

Why Modern Systems Struggle

Modern genealogical systems tend to treat names as fixed identifiers. When applied to French-Canadian records, this assumption often leads to confusion. A woman such as Marie Geneviève Seguin dit Laderoute may be divided into multiple profiles because her name appears differently in different records, or incorrectly merged with another individual who shares a similar name.

In reality, the records themselves are consistent once their conventions are understood. It is the modern expectation of uniformity that creates the apparent conflict.

Reading Records Across a Lifetime

Understanding how names functioned in New France requires reading records across an individual’s entire life rather than in isolation. Baptismal, marriage, burial, and notarial records each served different purposes and therefore emphasized different aspects of identity.

For Marie Geneviève Seguin dit Laderoute, the variation in name forms across records reflects continuity rather than contradiction. Place, chronology, family relationships, and associates provide the connective tissue that confirms identity when names alone appear unstable.

Preparing for the Final Post

This examination of one individual demonstrates how devotional given names, dit surnames, and clerical habit combine to produce legitimate variation in the historical record. The challenge for researchers is not to force consistency where none existed, but to recognize patterns that reflect historical practice.

The final post in this series will step back from this specific family and offer practical guidance on how to approach French-Canadian records more generally, drawing on the examples already discussed.

Notes

  1. Québec, Canada, Vital and Church Records (Drouin Collection), baptism of Marie Geneviève Seguin dit Laderoute, 1712.
  2. Québec, Canada, Notarial Records, marriage contract of Jean Beauchamp and Geneviève Seguin dit Laderoute, 12 August 1731.
  3. Québec, Canada, Vital and Church Records (Drouin Collection), various baptisms and marriages involving the Beauchamp family, mid-eighteenth century.

What Does “dit Laderoute” Mean?

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After grappling with repeated given names such as “Marie,” many researchers encounter a second layer of complexity in French-Canadian records: the appearance of an additional name introduced by the word dit. In the Seguin dit Laderoute family, this additional name—Laderoute—appears consistently across generations and records, raising questions about whether it represents a surname change, a nickname, or a separate family altogether.

In fact, dit names were a common and functional feature of naming practices in New France. Understanding how they were used—and how they were written—is essential for interpreting the records correctly.

The Meaning and Purpose of Dit Names

The French word dit means “called” or “known as.” A dit name functioned as an alias rather than a replacement surname. It could serve several purposes: distinguishing individuals with the same surname, identifying a particular branch of a family, reflecting military service, or referencing a place or personal characteristic.¹

Importantly, the presence of a dit name did not erase the original surname. Both names could be used independently or together, depending on context, clerk, or habit.

Pierre Seguin dit Laderoute

In this family, the surname Seguin appears alongside the dit name Laderoute beginning with Pierre Seguin dit Laderoute and continuing among his children. Pierre did not “become” a Laderoute; rather, he belonged to the Seguin family and was also known as Laderoute.

Across parish and notarial records, Pierre may be identified as Pierre Seguin, Pierre Laderoute, or Pierre Seguin dit Laderoute. Each of these forms refers to the same individual. The choice of name reflects the habits of the priest or notary who created the record, not a change in identity.

Variations in the Written Form of Dit Names

Modern researchers often encounter dit names written in several different forms and may assume that these variations reflect different meanings. In eighteenth-century Québec, this assumption is misleading.

The word dit may appear written in full, abbreviated, or contracted, including forms such as dit, d’, de, or occasionally alias.² These variations reflect clerical preference and writing speed rather than any distinction in function or status.

For example, entries recorded as Seguin dit Laderoute, Seguin d’Laderoute, or Seguin de Laderoute all convey the same meaning: Seguin, called Laderoute. The contracted form d’ is particularly common in notarial records and should not be interpreted as a marker of nobility, geographic origin, or surname change.

Dit Names Across Generations

The use of dit names was often inherited, though not always consistently. Some children retained the dit name, some used only the original surname, and others alternated between the two across their lifetimes. In the Seguin dit Laderoute family, Pierre’s children appear with varying forms of the surname, sometimes emphasizing “Seguin,” sometimes “Laderoute,” and sometimes both.

This variability does not indicate separate families or lines. Instead, it reflects a flexible naming system in which multiple identifiers could coexist without conflict.

Dit Names and Women’s Records

For women, dit names introduce additional complexity. A woman might appear under her baptismal surname, her dit name, her husband’s surname, or a combination of these forms depending on the type of record. In the Seguin dit Laderoute family, the presence or absence of “Laderoute” in later records does not signal a change in family affiliation.

As with given names, variation in surname form should be understood as a feature of the record-keeping system rather than evidence of multiple individuals.

Reading Dit Names in Context

The presence of a dit name signals that a record belongs to a naming system different from the modern one. Rather than attempting to standardize or correct these names, researchers benefit most from recording them as they appear and evaluating identity through corroborating evidence such as place, chronology, and family relationships.

The Seguin dit Laderoute family provides a clear example of how dit names functioned as flexible identifiers within a stable community. Recognizing this flexibility is essential for avoiding false divisions and misinterpretations in French-Canadian genealogical research.

In the next post, the focus will shift from naming systems themselves to the records that preserve them, and to how a single individual can legitimately appear under multiple name forms across baptisms, marriages, burials, and notarial documents.

Notes

  1. René Jetté, Dictionnaire généalogique des familles du Québec (Montréal: Les Presses de l’Université de Montréal, 1983), introduction; Yves Landry, Les noms de famille en Nouvelle-France (Montréal: Septentrion, 1992).
  2. Québec, Canada, Notarial Records, 1637–1935; parish registers of the Montreal and Lanaudière regions, eighteenth century, passim.