Isaac H. Brown: A Scottish Story Revisted (UPDATED)

Historic Analysis of 1969 Brown Letter: Does the letter provide clues to historical time frames for the Isaac Brown Family?

Marilyn A. Hudson, MLIS (2014)

 

UPDATE:  Recent DNA tests in two lines call into question some of the current understandings about this line.  In neither test was there any clearly defined and identifiable Native American DNA.  This seriously erodes part of this legend.  One line was also given information that connected them to a line that was in NC, VA. and PA.  It is interesting to note that in at least two of these lines is also a story of a Native American wife but it is several generations earlier.  Any male Brown descendants of this line are urged to have their DNA test done and begin to clarify this situation.

The story within the family of Isaac H. Brown of Texas county, Missouri was that the family name had originally been a) MacDiernie and was from Scotland and b) that on running away from an apprenticeship he changed it to Brown.  It was generally understood the original individual thus defined was Isaac H. Brown.   A closer reading of the document used to support this theory offers some interesting ideas while also raising some important questions regarding the timeline.  This legend appears to have originated in the line of one of Isaac's sons.  It should be noted Isaac always said on the census that he was born in Tennessee.  Only one of his children appears to have ever identified him as having been born in Scotland.  This would seem to suggest a misunderstanding of a family story.



Isaac H. Brown, Texas Co., Missouri.
Did he runaway from apprenticeship in Scotland and change his name from McDeirnie (or MacDiarmid) to BROWN?



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Transcript of relevant letter parts dated  December 21, 1969:

Dear Georgia [1] : It seems only yesterday that I received your letter…your letter was a lovely letter and full of news and hope of finding more of our kin. Maybe I can help you in some way to continue your search.

You see my father told me a story when I was a small boy, when I asked him how we were named Brown.  Then I asked him again when I was in my teens. Also again a short time before he died. The story was the same.  Some things that I can’t remember, as hard as I have tried the last two months.

[This is important because it shows a consistency in the narrative but also that there were some details lost]

In the beginning our real name was Scotch – MacDiernie pronounced MAC-DEER-KNEE….

[Spelled variously there is evidence that a family group of that name  and similar (Macdermid) was a protectorate under the broader Clan Campbell of Breadalbane umbrella in Argyll, Scotland.]

The story I remember is this. MacDiernie  ran away from the apprentice school in Scotland.  He was 14 years old at the time that he stowed away on a ship and came to the United States.



Mary Brown, was she a Choctaw or
is the story older?

[ Born ca. 1806 he is about fourteen in 1820.   There were problems with apprentice schools many years earlier. One Edinburgh paper mentioned the issue  often in papers dated to the 1780's]

 He joined some group to fight the Indians. – Was wounded and left to die.  A tribe of Indians found him and brought him back to good health again.  He lived with the Indians for a while and married one of them. [2]

[Arriving in the U.S. around 1820 on the eastern seaboard there was not much 'Indian fighting' going on except west of the Mississippi, in Indiana Territory and in Florida. There were localized events but more detail is needed on them. The belief she was either Choctaw or Cherokee places the event within the areas of the Carolinas, Kentucky, Tennessee and Georgia depending on the tribal group. When asked to identify the suggested name Washatah (phonetic spelling of name as it descended) Cherokee speakers did not identify it.] 

Being afraid that someone would find him and send him back to the school, he changed his name from MacDiernie to Brown. That is the story our Grandfather told my father.

I believe the story because while I was in Canada I checked with some Scotch people and they checked … MacDiernie listed. Out clan is the CAMPBELL’S OF BREADALBANE (BREEDAL’BRIN).

Maybe this will help you, but I forgot the name of the Indians also weather it was a greatgrandfather or not.  Maybe our Great, Greatgrandfather – I can’t remember……..Fred” [3]

[This is important because it leaves open the idea that the story may be older than supposed. ]

Only one of his children claimed a Scottish birthplace for Isaac and Isaac on every census gave his birthplace (and the birthplace of his father) as Tennessee.  Now, in the first years of being a runaway a person might fear being found and sent back to make good on their apprenticeship (since money was put forward often as a loan to a third party in such situations) but after decades?  That would then make Isaac a truly grand liar and a man, as the Good book says, who had no truth in him.  While that may indeed be the case, it would seem that given the nature of many of children as stalwart people of high moral caliber that they would have been raised with high ethical standards. So, it seems out of character that he would have continued to lie once the need no longer existed. Indeed, in similar cases, there is often found a renewed pride in that first nationality that the person and their heirs appreciate.

Conclusion: Given the uncertainty of the letter writing in being able to pinpoint to whom the story referred, given that the greatest chance of encountering large scale 'Indian fighting' was a generation before Isaac, and given the fact he consistently responds to census takers with a Tennessee birthplace, and given that in a previous generation there was a recognized problem with runaway apprentices reported in Scottish newspapers.  In addition, several other Brown lines also share this common story of a Native American woman indicating that perhaps all are retelling a shared family myth or legend (which may be rooted in fact).  Together these all present a strong case for the story referring to the father or other ancestor, of this Isaac.  It is at least a possibility that should be explored and considered.

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[1] Georgia Adams is believed to be Georgia Brown, daughter of Felix Grundy Brown, son of P.P. Brown; PP. was son of Isaac Brown.

[2] The common assumption that this individual was Isaac H. Brown (1806-1883) of Texas County, Missouri may be in error.  Nowhere in this letter is there an identifier as to who this stow-away was. Indeed it is clearly stated that it could be referring to his father or beyond.  Second, there is the idea of stepping into an Indian conflict if the 1820 date of arrival is correct. This date is based on the information he was 14 when he ran away and subsequent census reports as to his birth year, which remained constant over time.  The conflicts with Native inhabitants in 1820 was largely west of the Mississippi and south into Florida and an occasional hot spot in Indiana Territory.  Earlier, however, during the colonial and revolutionary period there were active conflicts all across the Atlantic regions and into the Ohio valley areas.

[3] “Fred” was an uncle of Georgia's.

 

THE BOX

John King Terry and wife Mary Ann

My father, Roy D. Terry, told me this story about his grandfather John King Terry.  During the Civil War John joined the Union Forces and his wife went to live with her family at a nearby farm.  

John served with a Capt. John Kelso, whom he much respected, and would later name a son for the man.  Out on patrol  hunting marauders, John recognized they were near his in-laws house.  He offered his captain and men a home cooked meal and rest for the horses.  They quickly agreed and set off.

Unknown to John, the mauraders had already hit the home of the inlaws (who had run away to remain hidden in the nearby woods).  The marauders had made off with many of the few remaining valuables of the family. They had taken a wooden box John had once kept ammunition in and had scooped up the family's silver spoons and valuables from their ancestors.  They had then ridden off when alerted to the approaching soldiers.

Seeing the family safe, John and the men immdediately set off trailing the thieves and trapped them in a cave.  The command was given to 'Fire until there is no reason to fire anymore.'   The goods of the Terry and Riddle families were recovered - along with valuables from other homes nearby. 

The box went on to serve the family for many years, and came to my father as a keepsake.  During the 1930's in the Ozarks times were very hard and one family down the road could not even afford a coffin when their small baby died.  My father gave them the box- once used to carry off a family treasure - in order for it to once more hold a family's small treasure taken too soon.

 Somewhere in the hills of Barry Co., Missouri a small wooden box from one family holds the remains of another family.  The names are gone but the story remains.

Marilyn A.  Hudson

John Armstrong Meanor (Menor) - Civil War veteran

Ancestor of Elizabeth Menor VanScyoc Moore

THE WORKING MAN.

This is a photo of Melvin Daniel Priest (1931-1999) working in his shop in Barton County, Missouri ca. 1990.   The photo is thought to have been taken by his brother, Lou Priest and was in the possession of their sister, Carol Priest Fortey.   Melvin can easily symbolize the working man of the 20th century.  He went to work when he was about seven years of age to help support his abandoned mother and his younger siblings.  He continued to work all of his life.  He was a high welder who worked on skyscrapers throughout the middle of the country; they were called high welders because they worked on the highest scaffolds and under sometimes dangerous conditions.  He raced motorcycles across the country earning a room full of trophies.   He designed a unique trailer hitch.  He was calm, competent, and capable. He loved country music.  He is one of a cadre of phenomenal Americans who never achieved fame, wealth or acclaim.  He, like so many of these 'Forgotten Americans', made the country work.  

WAR IS HELL ON EVERYBODY

The family of Martin and Mary Ann Reed Terry had just migrated from northern Arkansas into Barry Co., Missouri when the Civil war, almost literally, exploded in their back yard. Where they had recently left armies were surging northward. The northern forces were moving down from the north and the east.

The family, like most of the region, was now dogged by hardship and sorrow over the next few years. The war struck hard taking both lands and lives. Martin and his family fled their home 23 July 1861 as troops massed in the area just north of Barry Co., Mo. All around the area of their old Arkansas home, and the friends and family still there, the war raged. Battles such as "Pea Ridge", "Wilson's Creek", "Prairie Grove", and "Carthage" meant that they lived as refugees scurrying back and forth trying to keep out of the way of both sides.

September saw Martin and family in northeast Missouri trying to escape the sweeping ravages of war. However, the large numbers of homeless families and moving soldiers had left in their wake a different kind of killing field. A battlefield where illness and not bullets took an awful toll on the family:

"We left home July 23 and stopt in Casconde County 40 miles from her the 19 of Sept. There we was nearly all sick and William and Henderson died William on the 9 of October and Henderson on the 16 of November and the fever settled in your mother's rite eye and it went out. Our disease was considered low typhus. We had the best medical help the country could afford, but no human help could avail. William said tell friends I die in view of a blissful immortality and that is worth all the world to me and Henderson said he trusted the savior and was not afraid to die and he expected to get to heaven and we have a sweet hope that they are forever at rest. We came up here yesterday with the intention of going on to Springfield but in view of everything we think it not to be the best at this time. We have been on the wear and tear ever since we left home and like many others we are pretty well ruined. We yet have our wagon and 4 head of horses and a yoke of cattle whether we stay here or come up to Springfield or go on to Ioway I know not. We should be glad to hear from you and our little [touch of home?] there what became of it. These are the times that try mens soles be faithful to the grace given." --Martin Terry, writing from Rollo, Phelps Co., Mo to his son John King Terry, dated 3 April 1862.

Martin would later settled back into Barry Co., Mo, serving even as a justice of the peave in Capps Creek Township beginning in July 1866. Martin Terry died 2 Feb. 189 in Barry Co., Mo. and was buried in the Arnhart Cemetery located near the hamlet of Purdy. His wife, Mary Ann Reed Terry died three years later on 3 July 1893.

[Hudson, Marilyn A. Terry Trails. 1995; unpublished manuscript. Permission to use transcribed letters 1994, Ruth Terry Preston to Marilyn A. Hudson]

ROOTS IN THE OLD COUNTRY: ATHLONE AND THE ENNIS LINE

Traveling to the 'auld country' was a rare and almost spiritual experience. Feeling the wind of Ireland kiss my face, seeing my first stone wall circling a small field, feeling my heart throb to the beat of the bodhran...it was as they say so often - 'grand'.

I had grown up hearing tales from my father of one of his relatives who still had a burr in his speech, then learned tales of courage, escape, and struggle in a new land. I listened wide-eyed and with imagination soaring.....

This family line lived in Athlone,Westmeath, Ireland. They owned land and property (or was part of a family owning such land or property). One day the man was out riding his lands and happened upon a British soldiers (or in another family's version a groundskeeper) abusing one of the farmers. Stepping in to halt the beating, one thing led to another, and a fatal blow was struck. Knowing he would surely be punished severely for the act, he hurried home and arranged for himself and his three-year old son to be smuggled to America.

He settled in Virginia and commenced establishing a new life in a new land...

That small boy, the story goes, grew up to be JAMES ENNIS of VIRGINIA, Revolutionary War Hero, known as Captain James ENNIS (1735-1778), son of Sir John Ennis of County Westmeath,Ireland.

He enlisted in February of 1776 with the 9th Regiment of the Virginia Line of the Continental Army.

Captain James Ennis was captured by the British Army at the Battle of Germantown, contested on the outskirts of Philadelphia (Oct 4, 1777), and would die of smallpox the following year while a prisoner of war (perhaps on one of the era’s notorious ‘prison ships’ employed by the British).

Ennis is noted in M. Lee Minnis’ book, “THE FIRST VIRGINIA REGIMENT OF FOOT, 1775-1783″ as an officer of Colonel Charles Harrison’s First Regiment of Artillery in the Continental Army (page 240). (www.genforum.genealogy.com/ennis/messages/1445.html; family history; various researchers)

From this line came one Barbara Ennis who married William Terry, son of John and Esther Brown Terry of Botetourt Co., Va.

The traditions of the homeland stayed in place in surprising ways. In the 1930's one the direct Ennis line living in Northern Arkansas testified to her lineage. Her language was full of the rich heritage of an oral tradition when she said " these are the generations as I have been taught them..."

Their accuracy? Nearly 100 percent - not too unusual when one understands the role of oral history in ancient Irish society. So the story of the movement from Ireland may have more than a kernel of truth in it. After all, it is very important you get your generations in order. So, between the Ennis, the Riddle, the Ray, the Reed, the Kirkpatrick, the Boyd, and all the others....is it any wonder we are dancing? As my father showed me more than once, there is nothing like a barefoot kitchen jug. 'Tis grand!

Roy D Terry, ca.1912 - Oral History

Shown here with his grandmother..

An Interview with Roy Dennis Terry (1910-1987) recorded ca. 1983 while visiting with his son Dennis Terry in Wellington, Kansas. Roy was the child of Wesley Sartin Terry and his wife Edna Maggie Boyd Terry:

“I was born near Butterfield, Missouri on a little 40 acre farm a mile and a half northeast of town, in a one room log cabin and lived there until I was five . They then (my parents) built a new house. It was not a log cabin but was made of pinewood. It was on the same forty acres only in a different location than the log house.

When I was three years old, mom, Edith, my baby sister, and me were at the house when the house caught fire on the roof. Mom told me to go down to the cornfield (about a half a quarter [mile] from the house) and call dad. I ran down there and just calmly told dad ‘there’s a big blaze on the house”. Dad dropped everything and run to the house and put out the fire.

I remember when I was just three years, before we moved from the log cabin, we had a horse that got tangled up in some barbed wire and cut itself and bled to death. It must have made a big impression on me for I can’t remember the horse at all. Also, Dad had gathered the popcorn in this box on the sled with a box on it that he hauled things in and pulled by a horse. Dad gathered the popcorn in this box on the sled. I seen this popcorn and thought it was the most popcorn I ever saw in my life, of course it was a lot of corn. We always had a lot of popcorn balls, and made sorghum candy called taffy at taffy pulling times. This was the land of treats we had.

When I was about three Mom always milked the cow. My job was to go out when she milked and watch Edith who was about a year and a half old and sat on a pallet on the ground. She reached over on the ground and found some dried cow chips and started to eat it, so I helped her find some more until Mom came and caught me. I don’t remember the tune she played on me but it left a big impression I won’t forget.

The fall I was five years old we moved from the log cabin to the new pine house. They had to move the stove wood in, so I went along every trip. On the way, we had to pass a yellow jacket nest and I would get stung, but by the time they were ready for the next load I was ready to go again. Got stung every trip but managed to go every time they went.

The first summer we lived in the new house dad cut down a tree in the yard, which was at the edge of the woods. He left a log laying there and Grandpa came up the road. About this time, we saw a snake by the log and it crawled right over Grandpa’s toes, he just calmly moved it over with his walking stick and went on. Don’t know where the snake went. I think it was a blue racer.
When I was seven years old my cousin Oscar TERRY was getting ready to go to the army. His dada was Kelso Terry and they lived in Rago, Kansas. He rode a motorcycle down to Missouri with his father. He had a about 30 days left. He brought me a set of dominoes and taught me how to play. I got where I could play pretty good. I kept those dominoes for years after that.
Back in those days we were all poor and about all we had was bread and flour gravy. I saved the family from starvation because we had one big old spoon that mom stirred the gravy with. Well, the oldest child, Clyde, helped stir the gravy; he was right handed. Then Pearl came along and she stirred with the spoon and was right handed. By this time the spoon was wore clear to the middle from that right side. My folks couldn’t afford to buy another so they didn’t know what they would do. Then I came along and was left handed, so I started stirring the gravy with my left hand. So, we were in business again. I saved the family!

When I was about ten years old, they were cutting cord wood. That is wood four feet long and used to heat boilers with. They were cutting it right in front of our house and stacking it four feet each way. At that time there was a man the law was looking for and they all came out there and was looking for him where the cordwood was stacked, guess they thought he was hiding in the wood. We were real excited about all of this; we had never seen a desperado or a hunt for one. I don’t know if they ever caught him or not.

The only time I was ever really scared of the dark was when I was about twelve years old. My sister Pearl and brother Clyde and I walked down to Gunter, where they were having band practice. While we were there word came that the little town of Butterfield was on fire and the business district was burning up. So all of the older ones jumped into buggies and went to see the fire. All but me. I was left there alone. It was only one and a quarter miles but seemed like ten. Every time I took a step, it sounded like there was a step behind me. And I could hear all sorts of noises like hoot owls and everything else you could imagine. This was the first time I was ever out alone at night. By the time I came to my aunts house I was scared pink. But I borrowed a lantern to go the rest of the way home.

A year or two later I was going to school, and I always took my hunch in a syrup bucket. Well, mom also kept her clabbered milk in a syrup bucket. I ran through the house and grabbed my bucket and away I went to school. About half way there I heard a noise like my lunch was splattering, so I looked at it and you guessed it, I had a bucket full of clabbered milk! I threw it over the fence and done without lunch that day. So the rest of the year they called me ‘clabber milk.’

My last year of school in Butterfield there was a kid there who was real little. One recess he didn’t come in the schoolhouse. He hid under the school and made noises pecking on the floor. The teacher sent me to see what was making the noise. I found him under the school and told him he better go on home because the teacher was looking for him. I didn’t tell her I found him. So, the boy went on home and caught it the next day from the teacher.

The first date I had, I went with Clyde to a band concert. I was to take this girl home and took her home in the buggy and in the meantime, Claude had made a date to take his girl home. When he came out to take his girl home, the buggy was gone. So I really caught it from him.

It wasn’t just that I was such a bad boy, it was just that all the things I did and thought were funny, no one else was funny at all.

One time I walked up to the Bradley’s store to get some gas for my old Model “T” car. The store was closed when I was there I knocked. Had to knock several times. Finally, the door was opened and three guys were standing there with guns. Boy, those guns were big. They had heard the store was going to be robbed but of course, I didn’t know this. I was probably about eighteen then.

I was raised on cornbread and the hoe handle, and the reason I never got any bigger than I did was I got more of the hoe handle than the cornbread.
The only difference between me and George Washington was he president and I never was.

Roy with Horses

Issac Brown - DNA UPDATE

Born in Scotland, came to American ca, 1820....believed to have changed his name and had originally been member of a protectorate family of the Clan Campbell of Breadlebane .

Isaac H. BROWN was born in 1806 in Scotland. He died after 1880 in MO. According to family stories, Isaac Brown was from Scotland. He ran away from an apprenticeship at the age of 14 years and came to America. That would have been about 1820. Some time later while fighting Indians, he was wounded and left for dead. He was found and nursed back to health by a tribe of peaceful Cherokees. As a result of his living with the tribe he married the daughter of a 'chief', Washtella. Fearing he might have to leave his new home he changed his name to Brown. It is not presently established what his name was originally.

He was married to Mary MOONEY about 1828 in TN. Children were: Ptolema Philadelphus BROWN, Juan Ferdnand BROWN , Archimides BROWN, Selticana BROWN, Lycourgus BROWN, Elsimora BROWN, Metrabar James BROWN, Mary BROWN, Marcellus BROWN, Fascilina BROWN, Marcius Sabines BROWN, Leonides Hannibal BROWN.

NOTE: A male child of a female descendent of this Brown family was tested for DNA and the Haplogroup identified for the female descendent was U5a1a1.