When looking at historical documents related to Joseph Healy, it appears that most of them relate to Healy in a rather ancillary manner. We know how many times he voted in Congress because someone keeps tallies of everyone in Congress. We know about his family tree because he was traced back via Ancestry.com.
Healy is the stone that was thrown in the pond; what we know about him has to be read from the ripples.
All of which is a rather long way of saying that I don’t have a lot to say here.
Abraham Shepherd hails from Shepherdstown, West Virginia, but when he was born it was Mecklenburg, Virginia.
As near as I can put it together, there were originally two large tracts of land belonging to Shepherd families; one was over 200 acres and the other was a 750-acre plot of mostly farmland.
In 1776 there were five Shepherd brothers, whose father, Thomas, died in 1776. John Shepherd, one of those five, moved to Wheeling Creek (Ohio, not WV), then Limestone Kentucky, then Red Oak, which was in Adams County, about 50 miles east-southeast of modern-day Cincinnati.
Meanwhile, back in Mecklenburg, the town changed its charter and, in 1798, extended its corporate limits and changed its name to Shepherdstown, likely to honor Thomas Shepherd. Thus, in 1862 when the trans-Alleghany Virginia counties voted to secede from Virginia and become their own state, Shepherdstown was instantly one of the oldest towns in the state. That vote was challenged, and in 1866 the US Congress passed a resolution recognizing the transfer. Ultimately in 1870 the Supreme Court decided in West Virginia’s favor. Maryland also had something to say about who owned some of that land, which is why West Virginia has that peculiar hook in the northeast corner, but again the Supreme Court sided with West Virginia.
Last week, a Maryland legislator put forth a bill that would secede the Eastern Shore of Maryland from the rest of the state, but he somehow also included a county from Delaware and the part of Virginia that’s part of the Delmarva Peninsula and separated from the rest of the state by the Chesapeake Bay. How counties in three different states could become their own state, and whether the potentially affected counties in those states actually feel about such a move, is not known. I suspect that it’s largely a performative action on his part to protest gerrymandering, and he’s right in that many of Maryland’s districts have ridiculous shapes. But these days it’s much more complicated to just break away from another state, for political and fiscal reasons.
Samuel Powell is another one of those early Representatives in our government about whom little is known from a legislative standpoint.
We have odd details noting that he became a lawyer “prior to 1800” because we don’t really know how he got there.
And another detail that we have about Samuel Powell is that, after his one and only term, he was not a candidate to be renominated in 1816. But there’s no reason why cited in most sources. Did he lose a primary? Maybe. Did he choose not to run? Possibly. Was that the last gasp of the Democratic-Republicans? Mmm, probably not; they were still around until 1824, at which point they split into separate factions.
We do know that he missed 31 of 113 roll call votes, about 27.4%, which is higher than average. In his first year he missed 25% of votes and in his second year it went up to 31.7%. So even in his first year he missed more than typical. So it’s possible that he was elected for a cynical reason—to gain recognition and some name power. Once he had that, it was recommended that he walk away, so he did. This is entirely speculation on my part, though.
In the biography of Bernard Smith in today’s episode, it was noted that he spent a couple of years as the Collector of Customs in 1809 and 1810. Which set up the question for me: what does a Collector of Customs do?
My guess wasn’t too far off, tell the truth. The Collector of Customs assesses import duties and tariffs, enforces trade laws and regulates goods moving across international borders. My research didn’t turn up where he worked, but it could have been in New York. On the other hand, the Customs House in Linwood (near Atlantic City) was fairly new at the time so that could have been the location. At that time, tariffs and duties were the primary source of revenue for the US Government. Federal income taxes weren’t levied until 1861 for a few years, and then permanently in 1913.
At any rate, after Bernard Smith put in his time with the Sixteenth Congress, he was register of the land office in Little Rock, Arkansas, then secretary to the governor of Arkansaw, and finally an agent to the Quapaw Nation until his death in 1835, shortly after his 59th birthday.
Let’s start with the truth: Francis Johnson was not in office when the building in today’s cover art opened. This is the Old State Capitol in Frankfort, Kentucky, which opened in 1827, just after he left the US Congress.
But while this is the Old State Capitol, there are two buildings even older which were used; unfortunately both of them burned down, hence this stone edifice, one presumes.
You kind of have to feel badly in the long run when stuff like this happens. It feels a little bit like the universe is trying its best to wipe this guy from history. Even his specific birthplace is unknown, and the graveyard where he was interred is a public playground. (I’m going to presume it’s been paved over, yes?) But the fact is, once we’re gone we begin to accumulate anonymity unless something extraordinary happens to you or by you.
Not meaning to be a downer; it’s just what they call a shower thought.
P.S. if your download is wonky or if you’re having trouble with the website this week, please get in touch with me at claudecall@gmail.com; I’d be most appreciative. I had a bit of a time getting this post to play nice.
The Rockland County area of New York State is some lovely country. It’s just north of New York City and, along with adjacent Duchess and Westchester Counties, could be considered the heart of the area where the Dutch settlers came and stayed.
As a result you’ll find many place names that have Dutch origins. This is why so many places in the downstate New York area (the triangle above NYC) end in “-kill”, because “kill” is dutch for “creek.” Thus, “Fishkill” means “fish creek”.
At any rate, while not a lot is known about Isaac Van Houten, it’s clear that he almost certainly has Dutch ancestry, given both his name and his hometown along the lower Hudson River.
George Schetky came from a very musical family. As we mention in the episode, his father was also a cellist and composer who was originally from Vienna. As a result his home always had plenty of music present and was a regular hub of performances.
In fact, one could say that the Schetky family was a musical dynasty, between George, his father, his uncle on his mother’s side (Alexander Reinagle) amd others. Thus, he was a virtuoso on the cello before he ever set foot in America.
George came to America to stay with his uncle Alexander in Philadelphia, who was already well established there, and got himself into the local music scene as a performer and a teacher. This penchant for teaching also led him to theater programs including educational pamphlets so that patrons would understand the importance of the piece they were about to hear.
And, of course, Schetky was important in the founding of the Musical Fund Society of Phladelphia, which is dedicated to artistic advancement and musician welfare even now, over 200 years later.
José Antonio de la Garza was born in what we now call San Antonio. They may have called it that back then as well, but the area was called San Antonio de Béjar at the time, and was a mission around which the eventual city grew.
Texas was still a territory belonging to Mexico (i.e., Spain), and in the early 1700s the popular thought was that building these missions would strengthen Spain’s claims to the territory. That…sort of worked for awhile, until disputed territories were locked into treaties, or ceded one way or another, or occupied by a military force.
At any rate, once you’ve listened to the episode, you’ll have a better understanding of how Texas got its nickname.
There’s a cool thing about Joseph Lee Smith that Mike doesn’t cover in his story today, probably because he is SO JEALOUS OF ME.
Nah, I’m kidding. But the fact is, Joseph Lee Smith is tied up a little bit in my distant family history.
I mentioned once before that my family can trace back to a common ancestor, Thomas Call, who arrived in America sometime in the 1640s. Thus, anyone with the surname Call is related, however distantly. There were Calls who were among the first Mormons to go west with (the other) Joseph Smith, so the name is about as common in Utah as it is uncommon pretty much everywhere else.
Smith moved to Florida in 1821 and from 1823 to 1832 he was a territorial judge. In 1823 a delegate from Florida named Richard K Call introduced a resolution calling for the US House Judiciary Committee to investigage Smith on charges that he took bribes and kickbacks. The resolution was adopted and the investigation went on for at least seven years, but no charges were ever filed to impeach Smith.
There are a few Calls in Florida history, and a couple of towns have a Call Street, including Starke, which has a “Call Street Historic District“. This area was named specifically for Richard K Call.
Hm. My brother is named Richard Call, though he has a different middle initial. I may have to let him know about this…
Justice John Johnson had a brief career in the Indiana Supreme Court, but this shouldn’t be the legacy he leaves behind, especially inasmuch as there were no important decisions handed down during the six-ish months in which he was part of that bench.
It would be his earlier efforts as an Indiana politician that you want to know about. And yes, Johnson was an active politician early in the days of the Indiana Congress. Before there was a state Constitution, there were the Territorial laws that Johnson helped to organize, so he was probably quite well-versed in what was already down on paper.
