Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Poor Guilty Creatures

During my first visit to the Family History Library in Salt Lake City, my research focused on my 4th great-grandfather Burr Zelah Dornon. This will come as no surprise to readers of this blog who are already familiar with my obsession with the question of when and where he died and was buried (see Narrowing Burr's Window of Death).

Family History Library - Salt Lake City

In the 1860 U.S. Federal Census, Burr is enumerated with his family in Jackson County, Virginia (soon to be West Virginia). After reviewing the library's catalog, I discovered that Jackson County's microfilmed Chancery Court records covered this time period. Perhaps one of the Dornons made an appearance? In my effort to conduct a reasonably exhaustive search, I had to review the records.

Row after row of microfilm-filled cabinets comprise a portion of the library's second floor. I quickly found the Jackson County Chancery Court records, and made myself at home in the dark at a reader - elbow to elbow with a horde of other genealogists.

Microfilm Reel Storage

Slowly, I began manually spinning through the film. I was pleasantly surprised to find there was a name index. My search crawled as I reached the D's. I held my breath as my eyes glanced through the names: Duffield, Deweese, Dornon. Dornon! I wanted to jump out of my chair and do a silent jig!

This wasn't just any Dornon. It was Dornon, B Z! Burr.Zelah.Dornon - my 4th great-grandfather! What information awaited me in the records? The answers to all of my questions, of course!

I quickly took note of the page number for his record: 138. I spun the hand crank forward, cruising through the handwritten documents. Page 20, page 50, page 190. Too far! I spun into reverse.

Page 86...Page 169. Wait! My hand didn't even make a full rotation between those two records. The microfilmed pages jumped from 86 to 169. There was no page 138! The records with all of my answers (or so I hoped) were missing from the microfilm. I had a terrible sinking feeling. 

Have you ever wondered what heartbreak and despair looks like to a genealogist? Behold:

Jackson County Chancery Court Records - Page 138 Missing
I moved through the rest of the microfilm reel to make sure the pages weren't included elsewhere, but the loss was real.

My time in Salt Lake and at the library was too limited to indulge my heartache for long. I decided to learn more about Jackson County during the 1860s. 

Jackson County During the War
The library had a county history by Dean Moore that was available online (for in-library use only) titled, "Washington's Woods : A History of Ravenswood and Jackson County, West Virginia." It included a section on the county during the Civil War, and made for a compelling read.

I learned that most men in the county made their living as farmers, and that it was among Virginia's top producing regions of tobacco. Although President Lincoln was terribly unpopular in the county (he didn't receive a single vote during the 1860 election), the majority of the citizens wanted to remain with the Union.

Curiously, between a vote on secession in May 1861 and an October 1861 vote to create a separate state in western Virginia, the male voting population decreased by 3/4. Where did all of the men go? According to Moore, they were either recruited into military service, taken prisoner of war (by either side), or killed. Where was Burr during this time? Was he still alive? What was his fate?

Poor Guilty Creatures
You may recall that Burr's son Andrew wrote a letter that told of the family's escape from Jackson County in September 1862 as Confederate forces took control of the previously Union-controlled territory. During this surprise invasion, the Dornon family fled westward to Ohio (the family bible was lost in the Ohio River as a result of the family's haste to escape the Rebels). 

I've speculated that Burr was alive during this flight, but there's no documentation to confirm or contradict this theory. Moore's sobering statistics on the significant decrease in the male population forces me to reconsider my assumptions.

Moore cites the diary of Henrietta Fitzhugh Barr who was a southern sympathizer living in Jackson County. Barr's diary, which was also recently shared with me by the Jackson County Historical Society, illustrates the panicked departure that many families, like the Dornons, made from Jackson County. 

Barr's commentary still sears through the pages - more than 150 years later - and bites of the tension that must have been endemic across the country.
"The union men, women, and children are escaping in hot haste over the river." September 3, 1862
"...a great many of our Union neighbors have skedaddled. Poor guilty creatures; they are afraid of their own shadows." September 16, 1862

Those poor guilty creatures include my Dornons, but was Burr still alive?

Moore's insights into the dramatic decrease in the male population over the span of a few short months, and Barr's callous diary mocking the fleeing Union families makes me even more curious about Burr's circumstances.

What would the Chancery Court records have brought to light? I know, I know - let it go! [sigh]

Clearly, I'm nowhere closer to an answer about when and where he died and was buried, but the dramatic tension has jumped up to deafcon five! I don't know about you, but I'm more intrigued than ever. There's a story here that feels bigger than my initial questions, and the search has to go on!

Monday, February 16, 2015

RootsTech + FGS: 2015's Genealogical Extravaganza!

As I reflect on last week's 2015 RootsTech + Federation of Genealogical Societies combined conference in Salt Lake City, I'm left wondering how to sum it all up and share the experience.
Salt Lake City Street Art

If I had to choose only one word, it would have to be extravaganza. And that may be an understatement. The event was simply wild and off the hook - out of this world! Unprecedented even. It was a genealogical extravaganza.

I shouldn't sound so surprised. After all, it was billed by event organizers as the world's largest family history conference.

By the Numbers
  • There were so many people. Over 20,000 of them! 
  • There were tons of sessions. Nearly 300 of them!
  • There were a slew of exhibitors. 140 vendors!
  • Several motivating keynotes, including: a former First Lady, a multi-platinum recording artist, and New York Times bestselling author!
The Sessions
Laura Bush Gives Keynote
Over the course of four days, I attended 26 keynotes, sessions, and social events. The speakers were a who's who of genealogy's experts and rock stars, including Lisa Louise Cooke, Thomas Jones, CeCe Moore, Judy G. Russell, D. Joshua Taylor, and Maureen Taylor. And that's only to name a very few.

I've returned home with pages of notes.  I'm eager to apply what I've learned, including how to incorporate technology like Evernote into my work, be a more ethical genealogist, problem solve brick walls with probate records, and use tax records for all they're worth! And those are only the CliffsNotes!

Really, the hard work is ahead of me. I need to get down to brass tacks and apply this past week's learning. My research stands to benefit!

Location, Location, Location!
You couldn't ask for a better location. Salt Lake City is synonymous with family history (Hello?! Family History Library, millions of microfilm, and a GRANITE MOUNTAIN!). It's a beautiful city with the mountains jutting majestically beyond the skyline, and the weather - although unseasonable - was wonderful.

The greatest challenge was finding time to slip away from the conference and dive into the Family History Library's records. Fortunately, their extended evening hours made for productive research post-conference. It was genealogy 24/7, folks! More on my research will follow in a separate post.

In sum, this was a conference unlike any other. It was an extravaganza of learning, connecting and advancing family history. I'm already eager for next year, and I hope that you'll consider marking your calendar, too! 

Saturday, February 7, 2015

Narrowing Burr's Window of Death

It's been half a year since the detective work began in earnest to identify when and where my 4th great-grandfather Burr Zelah Dornon died and was buried.

Collaboration with distant Dornon cousins has helped to crowdsource ideas and facts that slowly chisel new cracks into this brick wall. Our collective efforts have been immensely helpful in turning up land records and deeds of sale that help pinpoint Burr's whereabouts and establish a timeline for his final years.

Before I fly to Salt Lake City for the 2015 RootsTech + Federation of Genealogical Societies conference, I want to step back and assess where we stand. What have we learned in the past six months, what questions remain, and what can we now hypothesize? I want to have questions in hand to explore while in Utah.

Six-month Review
Over the past six months, the questions have evolved and the research angles have shifted as new information came to light.


Stone Broke: In my first blog post kicking off the search, I came across a death date for Burr of October 15, 1867. It's in tons of public online family trees. But none of them provide documentation or back-up to substantiate this date. Someone entered it into a tree and it's since been replicated so many times it's gained the weight of authority.

This random death date gives new meaning to the old line from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest: "...it's the truth even if didn't happen." Well, it didn't happen! In subsequent posts, we've been able to confirm that Burr is in fact deceased before October 1867.

In this same blog post, we were also able to find an 1860 U.S. Federal Census confirming that Burr was very much alive in Jackson County, Virginia (soon to be West Virginia). That census was enumerated on July 7, 1860. We know for certain he's alive on that date in that location.


Running From the Rebels: The second blog post took the research to the National Archives in Washington, DC. I was able to pull Civil War pension files for two of Burr's sons: Lorenzo and Andrew. Lorenzo's pension provided no clues about his father's death; however, Andrew's file hinted at the turmoil the Civil War inflicted on the Dornon family.

During Andrew's application for a pension, the U.S. Government asked him to provide proof of birth. Appropriate documentation, they said, could come from the family bible. Andrew wrote a letter explaining that he had no written proof because he, "heard my mother say that our family bible that contained the family records of births and deaths, was lost in the Ohio River at the time that the Rebels runs us out of our home in Jackson Co. West Virginia in 1861 or 2."

The Dornons fled their home in Jackson County because of the Rebels! Now doesn't that make you very curious about what happened to the Dornon patriarch? Research on the Jackson County Historical Society's website was able to corroborate this story. While the county was primarily under Union authority, "The only exception was in September 1862 when Confederate forces, under the command of General Albert Gallatin Jenkins, briefly gained control of the county."

I speculate that Burr was still alive in September 1862 when his family fled from Jackson County to Ohio.


Finding Clues in Land Records: In October 2014, a Dornon cousin that I met through the Ancestry.com online member community, shared with me a handful of land records that she was able to uncover at the Briggs Lawrence County Library in Ironton, Ohio. 

This cousin brought my attention to the marriage record for my own 3rd great-grandparents - Albert Benedick and Anna Dornon. Anna was a daughter of Burr. Albert and Anna obtained a marriage license in Lawrence County, Ohio on October 20, 1866. The marriage record states that the young couple obtained the "consent of the mothers ... and that their fathers are dead."

Dead! There you have it! This is the first documented evidence of Burr's death. He is deceased by the time of Anna's marriage on October 20, 1866. This provides the evidence needed to undermine the erroneous death date plugged into so many online family trees.

I believe the land records further narrow the window for when Burr died. In 1856, Burr bought over 100 acres of land in Lawrence County, Ohio. On June 3, 1863, two of Burr's children - Mary Susan and Joseph - sell a portion of this same land to their older brother Albert.

I speculate that Burr has died by June 3, 1863, his property was inherited by his family, and two of his children sell their stakes in the land to the eldest son, Albert, who is likely administering his father's estate.


Lost Lucinda: Like Father Like Daughter: Unable to locate a probate record for Burr, I decided to take a closer look at each of his children. Perhaps an obituary for one of them would provide new information about Burr's death. Burr had nine children. I was able to trace six of them through the rest of their lives. Three remained a question.

The two eldest sons - Albert and Joseph - both disappear after the above-mentioned 1863 land records, and haven't been found in the 1870 census. I speculate they both died before 1870 (you'll find online family trees giving each brother an unsubstantiated death year of 1864).

The youngest Dornon child, Lucinda, is also a bit of a mystery. When and where she passed away is still unknown. She married Sylvester Scannel when she was 15 years old. In 1893, Sylvester was killed in a prairie fire. Written records of Lucinda's whereabouts become spotty after this time, until the society page of a Kansas newspaper highlights that she remarried to Levi Stanley in June 1899. They appear in the 1900 U.S. Federal Census in Woods County, Oklahoma. The trail then runs cold.

The hope is that an obituary may include that crucial line, "Lucinda was pre-deceased by her parents in...[insert year]." It's a long shot, I realize, but perhaps my genealogy dreams could one day come true.

Recent Discoveries
This week, a staffer with the Jackson County Historical Society in West Virginia found Burr Dornon listed on a deed of trust for a sawmill. The record was executed on November 14, 1860. Burr was alive on that date and still in Jackson County. This further narrows the window from the July 7, 1860 U.S. Federal Census - his last documented appearance.

Deed of Trust for sawmill - Jackson County, VA, 14 Nov. 1860
A Hypothesis
Based on the records uncovered to-date:
  • We know that Burr Zelah Dornon was alive on November 14, 1860 when he appeared in the deed of trust for a sawmill in Jackson County, Virginia.  
  • I speculate that he was still alive in September 1862 when the Confederates briefly gained control of Jackson County, Virginia, and his son Andrew wrote that the family fled the Rebels and settled in Ohio.
  • We know that he is dead by the time his daughter Anna marries on October 20, 1866.
  • I speculate that he was dead by June 3, 1863 when two of his children sell portions of land that he had purchased years earlier.
I believe the evidence we've uncovered enables us to make a compelling case that Burr died during a nine month window.

September 1862 - June 3, 1863

What Does It Matter?
This is a curious brick wall because the questions at hand - when and where did Burr die and where was he buried - aren't key to moving further along the Dornon family line. We already know his parents' names. We could simply bypass the roadblock and go around the wall to continue tracing the Dornon family's ancestry.

I want to find an answer to provide proof and counter the proliferation of incorrect information online (which this post has already done!). But, most importantly, I'm drawn to the human drama that appears to have unfolded during the height of our country's Civil War.

Burr's family had to flee their home during a tumultuous conflict that ravaged the country. A family bible - presumably among their most sacred possessions - was tossed into the Ohio River by an invading army. Clearly, facts like this suggest there's a story there, and I long to resurrect it. This is larger than just the Dornon family and one man's death. It illustrates the hardships that war inflicted on everyday citizens; it's American history.

What's Next?
I hold out hope that there's a government or family record that will surface and resolve these questions. Perhaps a probate record will one day surface for Burr. That would be marvelous.

My distant Dornon cousin from Ancestry.com wrote last month that the Lawrence County library only has tax records for 1818 and 1821. Apparently, the records for the 1860s were destroyed in a fire. Just our luck.

Another Dornon cousin - also found through the member community on Ancestry.com - advised that we begin looking into the family of Burr's brother Samuel Dornon. More to come on this front.

Along with the deed of trust, the Jackson County Historical Society also discovered information about the widow of Burr's son Joseph. Perhaps further investigation on this front will yield additional clues.

Over the past six months, this blog has helped to shed light on the events surrounding Burr's final days. I suspect this blog - and the crowdsourced research contributed to it - will be key in finally resolving our questions. Perhaps the right person will come across this post and realize they hold the missing piece of the puzzle.

Saturday, January 31, 2015

Family Mystery Part II: Identifying the Watchman

I was surprised to discover that my paternal ancestry was clouded by a non-paternal event (see A Family History Mystery Revealed). I had to find answers to this smoldering family secret that had me burning for the truth. That meant on the ground research.

During a trip home to Colorado, I paid a visit to the site of the family rumor - the water reservoir where my possible paternal great-grandfather was a watchman. The reservoir is situated on a hill immediately adjacent to my great-grandparents' old home. A large embankment of earth rises up from their backyard casting a shadow over their small bungalow.

Driving along the perimeter, the reservoir spans several city blocks and is completely surrounded by a menacing chain link fence crowned with barbed wire. Ominously, the fence was marked with dozens of private property signs. The family secret was under metaphorical lock and key. As I cruised the length of the facility, I finally came upon a gate with a Denver Water truck parked outside and an employee passing through.

As I drove up, I rolled down the car window and asked about the site. He said it was Ashland Reservoir - a covered water holding facility for the city of Denver. I asked about the possibility of finding information on employees from the 1930s. He suggested reviewing Denver Water's website. While he spoke, I glanced into the distance - in the direction of my great-grandparents' home - and could see what appeared to be a small guardhouse. Was this Jimmy Kirk's office? From that vantage point, "Kirk-guard" could look down onto my great-grandparents' home.

Ashland Reservoir - Guardhouse

Later that day, after reviewing Denver Water's website, I found instructions for submitting requests for public information. I emailed the custodian of records asking if there were any existent employment records for a Jimmy Kirk, particularly around the 1930s. The following day I had a response to my email.

We have checked our early personnel records of Denver Water employees and have no record of a Jimmy Kirk. I did, however find references in the Record of Proceedings (Denver Water Board Meeting Minutes) to a Sam Kirk in 1928. One indicates that he was added to the payroll as a Reservoir Operator (the reservoir is not specified), and the other indicates that he resigned as a Watchman at the Ashland Reservoir a few months later.

Denver Water Board Minutes - May 1928
Sam Kirk hired as a reservoir operator in May 1928. Denver Water Board minutes.

Denver Water Board Minutes - October 1928
Sam Kirk resigns as a watchman at Ashland Reservoir in October 1928

The Questions
Was Sam Kirk the rumored "Kirk-guard" who had a relationship with my great-grandmother? The occupation and work location certainly match the family rumor. But Sam is a good ways down the alphabet from Jimmy.

Why did Sam only work at the reservoir for five months? Did he have to leave his position at the reservoir after the relationship with a married Catholic woman was discovered?

Did a relationship begin with my great-grandmother in 1928 - when Sam worked at the reservoir - and continue through the autumn of 1930 when my grandfather would have been conceived?

When mere tantalizing snippets of truth are revealed, my mind races to fill in the gaping holes with a myriad of possibilities. I had a candidate that matched pieces of the family rumor. Now I needed to learn more about him and see if I could confirm his eligibility and neutralize the abundance of uncertainty and speculation.

[To be continued]

Sunday, January 18, 2015

A Family History Mystery Revealed

I began dabbling in genealogy in late summer of 2010. Curious about my dad's paternal ancestry, I started cobbling together a family tree based on the few facts I knew.

My dad was adopted by his step-father when he was nine years old, which changed our surname from his biological father's. After the adoption, my dad's biological father had no role in his life. They never spoke. In 1990, my dad's biological father passed away.

I never knew him. I never saw him, either. Although my dad recently confided that my grandfather saw my dad and me when we were shopping at a hardware store. While neither father nor son spoke to each other, I'm oddly grateful that he saw me - his first grandson.

I knew about my dad's circumstances, but I knew little of the family that preceded the adoption. I had names for my paternal great-grandparents. I tackled this information with my amateur genealogy skills and quickly identified a handful of direct ancestors. I trawled through reels of microfilm at a local family history center. I began pestering family, including my dad's half-sister (they share the same biological father), with questions and requests for photos and documents.

I was completely absorbed with researching my paternal ancestry. I felt like I was reclaiming my history; restoring parts of my historic self. I was so enamored and engaged with my paternal research that I was blindsided when a piece of the paper trail surfaced and hinted at a family mystery that would alter my genealogy and paternal identity.

A Mystery Revealed
In May 2012, as I left a movie theater, I discovered that I had two voice messages. Both were from my mother. In her first message, she said she spent all day with my paternal aunt (my dad's half-sister) reviewing newly-found documents that were stashed in a safe belonging to my grandfather's widow. They had discovered some surprising information.

Her second voice message was to clarify the first, "When I said surprising I actually meant shocking."

Among the documents were two birth certificates for my biological paternal grandfather. The first was a delayed birth certificate, which I had already seen. According to my grandfather's widow, this delayed record of birth was created in 1972 when he was securing a job with the regional phone company. They required a copy of his birth certificate. He didn't have one, so he had one created. I never thought to question the facts on the document or ask whether there was already a record created at the time of birth.

The other record proved to be quite the shocker. It documented the birth of a boy born the same day as my grandfather and with the same first and middle names. However, the surname was different. There was a different father listed. It was not my paternal great-grandfather (or who I thought was my paternal great-grandfather). The single commonality between the two birth records was that the child's mother was my great-grandmother.

It appeared that she had an extramarital relationship that resulted in the birth of my grandfather. Who was this man - my apparent new great-grandfather? I had a name - at least the one written on the certificate. I also had a family rumor that my grandfather's widow finally divulged.

Rumored Identity
The father's name was listed as Jimmy Kirk. His age at his last birthday was 37 years old suggesting he was born in about 1894. His birthplace was given as Michigan and his occupation laborer. His address, a key piece of information that could help identify exactly who he was, was left - to my great frustration - blank.

There wasn't a lot of exacting information provided that could shed light on this man's identity. Certainly, there wasn't anything transcribed detailing the nature of his relationship with my great-grandmother.

With all of the key players deceased, I had to rely on family recollections and stories passed down. My grandfather's widow shared a family rumor that would be helpful in directing my research.

According to her, after my grandfather was born, he went to live with his adult sister and her husband for an unknown period of time (she would actually now be his half-sister). Why? Was it because the child was a source of consternation in my great-grandparents' household? It isn't difficult to imagine my great-grandfather upset at the idea of raising a child who wasn't biologically his own and was a physical reminder of his wife's infidelity.

The family rumor says my grandfather was the product of a relationship that my great-grandmother had with a watchman who worked at the water reservoir behind her house. The neighborhood kids knew the man and jokingly called him "Kirk-guard" - combining his name and occupation.

With a place of employment, occupation, and a few biographical details from the birth certificate, I was ready to begin my detective work into my biological great-grandfather's identity.

[Continued: Family Mystery Part II: Identifying the Watchman]

Saturday, January 17, 2015

Genealogy Goals for 2015

The beginning of the year has been a whirlwind, and I'm only now finding time to blog.

With 2015 in full swing, I took time to review my genealogy research goals for 2014. Happily, I made great strides towards many of them. Unsurprisingly, there's a lot more work to do. Some brick walls remained standing and some answers brought new questions. Mindful of limited time and resources, I'm setting my sights on the following areas for 2015:

General Genealogy Goals
  • Continue to collect and scan old family photos from relatives near and far.
  • Grow the pool of family who have DNA tested.
  • Build genealogy technical skills and networks by attending conferences like Roots Tech + FGS and the Global Family Reunion in New York.
  • Begin writing narrative biographies for my direct ancestors.
Brick Walls
Paternal Lineage

I've saved the most pressing goal for last. In December 2014, DNA test results confirmed a rumored non-paternal event on my direct paternal line and provided evidence of a link to a different family surname than what was previously known. 

While serving up quite a shock, I'm eager to learn as much as I can about this family and find additional evidence - both paper trail and genetic - to help further corroborate the link.

Stay tuned for more on this recent development. 2015 is shaping up to be a year for unveiling family history truths. 

Sunday, December 21, 2014

Lost Lucinda: Like Father Like Daughter

I'm broadening my horizons. At least when it comes to my research into the death of Burr Zelah Dornon.

I've turned my research eye to Burr's children. Where did each of them live? Where did they die and what, if anything, did their obituaries say about the passing of their parents? Perhaps they hold clues to the mystery of Burr's death and burial.

Unfortunately, the results haven't turned up many answers yet. However, my broadened research has turned up another question. I've had luck tracing the steps of Burr and Sophronia Dornon's children except one. What happened to their youngest child - a daughter named Lucinda?

She was born in August 1854 in Ohio. Sometime after her father dies, presumably in the early 1860s, Lucinda joins her siblings and mother Sophronia in a move to Kansas.

On March 10, 1870, the 16-year-old Lucinda marries 32 year-old Sylvester Scannel in Wyandott, Kansas. A license and certificate of marriage are both issued on this day.

Sylvester Scannel & Lucinda Dornon 1870 marriage license
By the 1880 U.S. Federal Census, Sylvester and Lucinda are making their home as a farm couple in Rooks County, Kansas. Their happy home, though, is upset by a tragic prairie fire that rages across the county. It destroys hundreds of acres of farmland and engulfs dozens of structures.

Sylvester worked to slow the fire's spread by digging trenches. The inferno quickly surrounded him. He tried to make his escape on horseback, but was overwhelmed by the smoke. Falling from his horse, the fire was so intense that Sylvester's "clothing, except his boots and gloves, was burned entirely off his body." He died from his burns the following day and Lucinda was a widow.

Plainville Gazette - March 16, 1893
Lucinda's whereabouts can be traced for a short while thanks to her husband's Civil War pension. She submits paperwork confirming that she's his widow and is awarded the pension. In August 1895, she completes a new Power of Attorney, relieving her attorney in Plainville, Kansas and appointing a new one in Decatur, Illinois.

Power of Attorney appointing attorney in Illinois

I assumed that I had been unable to trace Lucinda after the death of Sylvester Scannel because she remarried and was buried under a new surname. I figured this second marriage would come to light in my review of the Civil War widow's pension file at the National Archives in Washington, DC. I quickly realized it would be more challenging to track her down. Inside her file, the first document was stamped in red letters, "DROPPED." But it wasn't because she was deceased. At least I don't think so.

Elsewhere in the file, it clarifies that she was dropped from the pension rolls in December 1899 for failure to claim her money for three years. Who doesn't claim their money?! Perhaps someone who has remarried and recognizes that she no longer qualifies for the pension?

A broad records search turned up a Lucinda Scannel listed as a cook in an 1899 Butte, Montana city directory. A search of Plainville, Kansas newspapers suggests this was her. She appears in the paper four times beginning in September 1894 when she returns to Plainville after an "extended visit in Illinois." 

The society pages of the Plainville Gazette boast a potentially juicy piece of information. In June 1899, we find that "Mrs. Scannell, formerly of this county but lately of Montana" married Levi Stanley in Grainfield, Kansas. Aha! So she did live in Montana and she did remarry!

February 1900 is the last appearance of Lucinda that I've been able to locate. Apparently she's now living with Levi in Oklahoma. Did she die there? Is she buried there? I don't know.

The December 1910 obituary of Lucinda's sister Abigail (Dornon) Benedick states that she is survived by one brother and one sister. I know that both Anna (Dornon) Benedick and Andrew Dornon are still alive and I presume they are the two Dornon siblings referenced. If that's true, it would mean that Lucinda Dornon Scannel Stanley dies between February 1900 and December 1910. 

When did she die? Where is she buried? Clearly, she's taken a page from her father Burr's book - like father like daughter. Lucky me!