My journey began many years ago in the late
1970’s. At that time I began to ask
questions about our family in a serious way.
Apparently, I had always had an interest in family history as my mother
said that I was “always” asking questions about the family. At that time, my mother did not know anything
more about her family other than her mother’s, father’s, and brothers’ names
and that she had been placed in foster care from birth. The foster family wanted to adopt her, but
was not allowed to by her natural mother.
Consequently, her mother had to visit her every month.
My father’s family was a different story. My father knew his parents and his
grandmother and his stepmother. He also
knew two of his uncles and his first cousins and knew about the other uncle and
his sister. He knew that the family had
moved to Toronto from Liverpool, England.
I also think that he may have known about some of the relatives who
still lived in Liverpool as his grandmother made trips back to England to visit
family.
When I was finally given the initial information
about the family, all that I was told was that there was a connection with the
Armstrongs. No one could tell me where
or when or who. We didn’t even know that
the Armstrongs were one of the Reiver Clans.
I was also told that my great-grandmother’s maiden name was Pedersen,
spelt P E D E R S E N and that her first name was Elizabeth. One other fact was that we came from a long
line of sailors and that we were Heinz 57, meaning what was known for sure was
that we had English, Irish, Welsh, Scottish, Swedish plus, plus, plus.
The last bit of information that I was able to
get out of the family was that my great-grandfather’s name was Richard Fielder
and that he was the family skeleton in the closet. Richard is another story altogether, one that
I haven’t finished researching yet.
My great-grandmother’s name was Elizabeth Gill
Peterson and she was born in 1868 in Liverpool.
Her parents names were William Peterson, born in either Kent or
Liverpool (I haven’t been able to find documentation on his birth), and
Susannah Gill, born in 1841 in Liverpool.
Susannah’s maiden name was confirmed on the marriage registration. William Peterson was a master mariner and
Susannah probably met him in her father’s shop.
Her father, John Gill, was a vitualler or ship’s chandler. He sold his product to provision the ships
that sailed into the port and his shop was on Frederick Street, which was near
the docks. John Gill often had mariners
in his home as boarders. For years, I
knew that his wife’s name was Susannah, however, I did not know what her maiden
name was. Those were the pre-internet
days.
About 20 years ago, I discovered that the
National Archives had the British 1861 census online. I found John Gill and his family. It was at this point that I discovered that
John Gill was born in Workington, Cumberland.
From the 1861 census, I learned Susannah was born in Bewcastle,
Cumberland. I still could not find John
and Susannah’s marriage information in Liverpool. I thought that I would try looking for their
marriage information in Workington.
Bingo!! They had been married in
Workington.
I discovered Susannah’s maiden name. Believe it or not, it was Armstrong. The marriage record said Susan Armstrong, but
I have been through the records for Bewcastle and I have not been able to find
any record of a Susan Armstrong. I
checked the IGI and found her christening record as well as her 11
siblings’. I found out what her parents
names were. I ordered in the microfilm
and found that the christening records for all of the children included the
wording “son or daughter of Joseph Armstrong of Bank End and his wife Mary
formerly Scott.” What a treasure trove. However, I failed to make a copy of the
records and discovered this week that I have no backup, source or
citation. I have already ordered the
microfilm as the records have not yet been digitized.
In September 2010, I retired from the
military. I felt strongly impressed to
take a trip to England for 3 weeks. Due
to circumstances beyond our control, I did the trip to England alone I spent
time in London to see what I could find there and then travelled to Carlisle, with
a stop in Nottingham to do the Robin Hood thing.
Once I was in Carlisle, one of the things that I
did was to visit St. Michael’s church in Workington as the family had some
significant events happen there, such as marriages. I was looking for my fourth
great-grandparents’ deaths and burials.
I did not find Joseph Armstrong’s death or burial. However, I did find Joseph’s wife, Mary
Scott’s, headstone. This was a
miracle. Some of the cemeteries in
England had fallen into such disrepair that the government set up cemetery
boards to look after them. In
Workington, a lot of the headstones had been damaged through neglect and
vandalism. The least damaged ones were
placed around the cemeteries, against the walls. A lot of the damaged ones were used in
building roads and buildings. I was
fortunate. I found Mary’s headstone at
St. John’s Church, just up the road from St. Michael’s, and on it was Mary’s
information as well as 3 sons and 1 grandson.
I also drove to Bewcastle Church. It wasn’t hard to find as there were sign
posts directing me there. I spent about
an hour visiting the church where my fourth-great-grandparents were married and
my third-great-grandmother and her siblings were christened. What a feeling.
I then consulted with a couple of maps along
with a couple of strangers that I could rope into helping me to find Bank End
Farm. One of the strangers was like me
and not from the area. It was an
interesting conversation. We decided on
a route and then parted company with well wishes on both sides.
Have you every tried to find anything in a
place where there are no road names or numbers and all you have is a map that
covers the county and another map that shows where the farms are but not the
roads? If I had known the way, it should
have only taken about 15 – 20 minutes, but an hour and a half later, I still
hadn’t found it. I almost gave up.
Then, for some reason, I took note of the name
of a farm. I now know why I did, but
about 10 minutes later, I realized that I knew that name and that it was close
to the farm that I was looking for. I
looked for a safe place to pull over and found it about 10 minutes down the
road. I consulted my small map that had
the farm names. This farm was right
across the road from the farm that I was looking for. I turned around and found the farm again only
on my left this time. I pulled over as
best I could, and looked to the right.
No farm. I looked at the map
again. There was a road off to the
right. I looked to the right again. No road.
I looked more to the north and saw the road. Still no farm. I looked at the map again. The farm was situated a short distance up
that road. I looked at the road and
followed it. There were some trees, and,
guess what, a house! I drove up the road
and parked my car. I got out and walked
to the sign for the farm. “Bank
End”.
I found what I was looking
for. I tried to take some pictures
through the gate. The owners of the time
had a dog that let them know that I was there.
The man came to the gate and we talked.
I was so excited that I was almost crying. I had found my ancestors’ home.
I was allowed on the property to take
pictures and was taken in to see a couple of rooms. They did not want me to take any pictures
inside as they had started renovations and explained that they wanted to take
the house to as close to the original as possible.
Joseph Armstrong’s initials were still in the
wall of the house where he put them in 1773.
I knew that Joseph had sold the farm in 1818
but I did not know why until about a couple of weeks before I went back to
England in July. The financial situation
between 1812 and 1818 forced the sale of the house.
I have done more
research on the family in the past few years and have found several distant relatives,
three of who I met in the summer of 2011, and a fourth cousin in Wales, who I
have also met at the same as well as many potential relatives with the
Armstrong Clan Association. I am still
looking for when and where Joseph Armstrong died and was buried.
