O' Susannah!

My husband and I are addicted to genealogy diving.  Combined, we have a rich history that combines the stories of Fiddler on the Roof with those in Paint Your Wagon.  We are enjoying the painstaking process of research and documentation that allows us to paint a picture for our children of their rich heritage.  Some lines are difficult to trace.  For example, although all four of my grandparents were born in the US, the trail runs pretty cold before Ellis Island.  The one exception is my grandmother’s Siegel family, a tight-knit group that traces their roots to the same Vitebsk shtetl as Marc Chagall—his own name a French interpretation of the family moniker.   For my husband, however, there are five generations of his family buried in a single cemetery at the end of the Oregon Trail.  From this documentation, literally carved in stone, combined with an oral history taken from his great-grandmother at the turn of the last century, it is possible to follow the records of all the lines back eastward with a great deal of confidence. 

Here we have found a rich and colorful history—the story of young American pioneers and prospectors—some starting in Virginia and others in Plymouth--moving ever farther West in search of land and opportunity.  (One English family line can be traced to fighting with the Scots for independence in the first Battle of Stirling!)

One of the more exciting discoveries has been documenting my husband’s direct descendance from one of the unfortunate women executed during the Salem Witch Trials.  Susannah North Martin was likely a proper Christian woman, her only crime perhaps to catch the eye of a widower landowner and subsequently bear him eight children.  Egged on by the fear and gravitas of Cotton Mather’s dominating Puritan presence, and perhaps to shed suspicion from themselves, the women of the town swooned in Goody Martin’s presence as “proof” of her spells over them.  Poor Susannah endured unspeakable indignities, including physical examination by the officiating males at various times of day to collect evidence that she was nursing a “witch’s familiar.”

Susannah was twice tried as a witch.  For the first accusation, in 1669, she was found guilty but subsequently had the charges overturned.  By 1692, Susannah was a poor widow; with council denied by Mather, she was unable to fight off the false charges made by Mercy Lewis and Ann Putnam.   Susannah was hanged on July 19, 1692 along with Rebecca Nurse and two others.  They were buried in a shallow grave near the gallows.

The spirit of Susannah North Martin lives on.  My husband is descended from her daughter Abigail; President Chester A. Arthur was descended from her daughter Jane.  There is a small marker in a Salem cemetery that we visited over the weekend.  In the nearby town of Amesbury, where Susannah lived with her husband, her spinning wheel is on display.  There are thousands of Susannah’s “great grandchildren” who celebrate their wronged relative and keep vigil.  In 2001, Susannah finally was exonerated by official state decree.

As exciting as it is to make a connection to a known moment in history—even one as infamous as the Salem atrocities—it also gives you pause.  We tried to estimate how many “cousins” our children have today who are similarly descended from this single woman through her eight children.  There are likely tens of thousands sprinkled across the planet.  It reminded me of the trivia that emerged during the last presidential race, when it was revealed that Barack Obama and Dick Cheney were cousins.  The concept of a “melting pot” is that we are not supposed to pick apart our differences but rather to live harmoniously as unified whole.  Beware the persistence of our genes!  What we fail to do together in this life, our DNA will live to do in the next.

Tomorrow's blog:  Pacino has no lock on Shylock