The Steele Orphans

Our next story is that of one of the many Steele families of West Hartford. My search began with this clip from the Hartford Daily Courant: 

"Truly Melancholy.- Died, very suddenly, yesterday morning, in West Hartford, Mr. Mason Steel, aged 41, and within two hours of his decease, his wife, aged 36, expired, having recently given birth to an infant, which died the day previous. Thus in a short space of a few hours, the father, mother, and child, in the same house, lay cold in death. About two weeks ago, they buried a very interesting daughter, aged 16. They had generally enjoyed excellent health, and a few weeks since their prospects of long life were as fair as any of us. Truly, in the midst of life we are in death. By this dispensation of Providence, six little children are left orphans."

Mason and Caroline share a headstone which lies flat beside that of their daughter, Nancy Jane. They are buried in West Hartford's historic North Cemetery.

This was one of those stories that I couldn't stop researching until I had all the details. How did Mason, Caroline, her infant, and Nancy Jane all die in such a short span of time?  And what happened to their surviving six children?

Discovering the answers was a far more complex process than I originally thought. First of all, information from the 1840s isn't always easy to find. The 1840 census is the last one that doesn't list the names of family members. It just lists the head of the household (usually a man) and the number of people in the household who are male or female, black or white, slave or free, and what their ages are within a decade. It does not make for simple searches. I spent several years going back to the Steeles, finding and adding more information until I finally found them all. The six orphaned children are listed below, and I will tell you each of their stories in as much detail as I can.

Frederick (15)

Mary Ann (12)

Sarah (9)

Henry (8)

Horace (5)

Lucy (2) 

When I did a probate record search for Mason Steele, it turned out that each of his surviving children had a page in the records. In these records, Benjamin Belden, John Belden, Walter Deming, Gideon Deming, Morgan Goodwin, and William Goodwin, all of West Hartford, were assigned in pairs by the court to act as the guardians for the six children. These days, guardianship of children means that they are placed in your care- they live with you and you care for them. Nineteenth Century guardianship was very different. These men were in charge of the money that would keep the children - and they were paid an annual fee to do it.

Sadly, the day their parents died was the last that the children would all live under the same roof. The evidence of their whereabouts is scanty, but from the probate records, I found that from 1843 to about 1846, Horace was boarded at the home of Bela Balch in West Hartford and Henry lived at the home of a Mrs. E. Steel, to whom I could find no relation to the children. 

“To cash paid Mrs. E. Steel for one years board from Sept. 1st 1843 to Sept. 1st 1844” “To cash paid Mrs. E. Steel for Board for H.B. Steel”

So this treasure trove of information gave me a look into the lives of the six Steeles. In addition to noting Henry's boarding fees, a note was made that Walter Deming should be paid for “...time spent in getting him a place”. The same note was made for Mary Ann, while Frederick was given cash to cover the expenses for a trip to Boston and for Sarah to take a trip to Southbridge, MA.

While this information looks neat and clean now, I found the probate documents after I spent several years tracking down all of Caroline's and Mason's siblings and living family members in an attempt to find the children. Since the census information wasn't always correct, it took some finagling to find them in the 1850 census. By searching for their names, places of birth, and ages, I was finally able to do so, despite Mary Ann and Sarah being listed as having been born in Massachusetts, and Lucy being listed as Lucy Whitehouse (for her adoptive parents).

In 1850, the children were:

Frederick (23): Working as a shoemaker in Newark, NJ. 

Mary Ann (20): In Southbridge, MA with their maternal aunt Polly Wheat, who was unmarried and had no children.

Sarah (17): Also in Southbridge with Polly Wheat.

Henry (16): Living with Benjamin Belden's family in West Hartford.

Horace (13): Living with Milton Braman's family in West Hartford. 

Lucy (10): Living with maternal aunt Emeline (Wheat) Whitehouse and her husband, George, who had no children of their own.

In 1860, the children were:

Frederick (33): 

Mary Ann (30): In Southbridge, MA with their maternal aunt Polly Wheat, who was unmarried and had no children.

Sarah (27): Also in Southbridge with Polly Wheat.

Henry (26): Living with Benjamin Belden's family in West Hartford.

Horace (23): Living with Milton Braman's family in West Hartford. 

Lucy (20): Living with her adoptive parents, working as a seamstress in Southbridge, MA.

Just like Anne Shirley and Harry Potter, the Steele orphans moved on from their tragedy and lived full lives.

Frederick married Jennette Clark and it seems they had no children. He died in 1894 and his wife in 1908. They are buried in Hartford's Old North Cemetery.

Research on Mary Ann is ongoing (updates some day!)

Sarah married Daniel Ward Richmond and they had three sons. They lived in New York City and she passed away in 1905. Her obituary from The Christian Advocate is below. Sarah has living descendants.

As mentioned in Sarah's obituary, Henry lived in Wales, MA when he passed away in 1918. He and his wife Matilda had four children and have many living descendants. 

Horace married Julia Walker in 1859, with whom he had one son. Each subsequent generation seems to have had one male child to carry on the Steele name. Horace still has living descendants in Connecticut.

Lucy Steele Whitehouse married Julius Gleason and died at the age of 42. They had one daughter, Carrie, who married but had no children.

Many of the Steele orphans' descendants have no idea that their ancestors went through such a harrowing time as children.

Arthur DeNeufville Talcott

At the monument to the 16th Connecticut at Antietam.

Arthur DeNeufville Talcott is another West Hartford Hauntings discovery. I actually found a death notice for his sister, Sarah, who passed away on September 30, 1851. While trying to find more information about her, I came across the entire family plot in the North Cemetery in West Hartford. The family tree is complicated but made for an exciting read (for a history nerd!). A friend of mine actually found Arthur during her own research and we were thrilled to be able to discuss our discoveries!

First, some background about this particular Talcott family. The patriarch was Samuel Talcott, Jr. of West Hartford. Samuel had twelve children with his three wives. 

If you look at the death dates, you’ll notice that both Samuel and Margaret had died by 1851, leaving ten children orphaned. Samuel III was nearly 30, and with Elizabeth and Thomas at 22 and 20, it would have been possible to continue their father’s wool business and take care of the younger children without sending them to live with other relatives. 

Arthur attended Ellington High School, most likely as a boarding student, for several years before his acceptance to Yale College. During his freshman year, in April of 1861, Fort Sumter was fired upon and the Civil War began. When August of 1862 came around, President Abraham Lincoln called for 300,000 men to volunteer for three years of service.  Arthur and other men took up the call and came into Hartford, organizing under Colonel Frank Beach. 

Over 1000 men gathered in Hartford and BF Blakeslee, a member of the  16th CT volunteers wrote in his memoirs, “the outdoor life, though not hard as yet, was too great for those that had led the quiet and easy life of a citizen.” A few died before they even left the city. On August 24, the men packed up and went by boat then train to Washington. They arrived to see the line of ambulances bring the dead and dying back from the second battle of Bull Run. They camped and marched on and off while making their way to Maryland and stopped at Keedysville. According to Blakeslee, they arrived on September 15, 1862- just before the battle of Antietam. According to Blakeslee, “The next morning dawned beautifully; little did we imagine that bright sun would be obscured by the smoke of battle.” 


He continued, “It was indeed a fearful day for the sixteenth. Without having time allowed to learn even the rudiments of military science, it was hurried forward and was formed in regimental line almost for the first time on the battlefield of Antietam, the bloodiest day America ever saw.” 

The 16th Connecticut had 432 casualties of the 940 men that had gone into battle that day. After the battle, Arthur and the 16th marched south, from Antietam to Falmouth, VA, a trip of over 100 miles cross country. 

My friend and fellow researcher had told me that there were two letters written by Arthur during this period in the Connecticut Historical Society archives.  When I got there, I also checked out a Ledger from Samuel Talcott Sr. The ledger was full of notes on his business, but was also full of handwriting practice by many of the children, and beautiful family drawings by Joseph Talcott, who was ten years older than Arthur. It is entirely possible that Arthur's face is one of those in the book. It’s one of the most exciting and beautiful things I’ve found in my years of research. 

A letter to his “Dear sister” on September 27 noted, “As I suppose you have heard I was wounded in the face by two buckshot and since then have been in the hospital taking care of the wounded. The hospital where I am is about one half a mile from the village of Sharpsburg on the farm of the secesh (secessionist) who skidaddled with the rebel army.” The discovery of the two letters at the Connecticut Historical Society nearly brought me and Tessa to tears. It is rare indeed to find a handwritten letter from the specific person you are researching. Both letters came from Virginia in the two months before Arthur’s death. 

Besides mentioning his early wounds, Arthur wrote advice to the armies in the letter to his sister. “The design of the rebels it to maim as many as possible while our men fire to kill. This accounts for the fact that the dead of the rebels are about the proportion of three to one of ours. I think the rebels theory is the best. It decimates an army faster to wound than to kill because that men have to be detailed to nurse them and also many of them are disabled for life, thus making a bill of expenses for the government in pensions.” This is an astute understanding from a 20-year-old man with a mere two months of army life under his belt. He finishes the letter of September 27 with, “I do not hear from home often that is the only trouble.” A sad note at the end of a lonely sounding letter. 

The second letter, dated October 31, 1862, gives a bit more of a look into the situation in which the young man finds himself. He assures his sister that Virginia is as cold as Connecticut, and says, “it has been as cold down here as it is at home at this time.” He also offers insight into his sister’s situation and concern for her wellbeing. “I know how you are situated and must make allowances for your not writing more often.” And in asking one favor of her, says, “I will tell you what I wish you would send me. A good pair of buckskin gloves with long cuffs to them. I shall need them very much this winter and cannot get them down here. I hope I am not asking too much of you.” 

His sister Isabella died in 1865 at the age of 30, and his youngest sister Mary in 1864. It is possible that one of these sisters was ill, and he knew of her condition. Arthur makes one further note which reflects his first letter, “[My brother] Samuel’s folks do not write very often nor so often as I should think they might and I do not see why they do not. I have received but two or three letters from Bro Samuel and two short notes from Bill. None of my friends write as often as promised except cousin John he answers every letter I write to him.” On the outside of the envelope, Arthur wrote, “If Sternberg can ____ send me some onions. We cannot get them here.” 

On November 19, they arrived in Falmouth, VA and set up camp. On December 3, Arthur died from “extreme privations and hardships of soldier life." Most likely from a fever or illness from lack of food, clean water, and warm clothing. Blakeslee actually wrote on December 10 that clothing was finally distributed and that shoes were especially needed.

The Talcott monument.

Arthur DeNeufville Talcott was the only West Hartford Civil War soldier to die in the war and be disinterred to be reburied with his family. Arthur’s body may have been returned to West Hartford for a December 11 burial. The service was conducted by Myron Morris, who is also buried in the North Cemetery.

A History of the Class of 1863, Yale College: Volume 4, Google Books.

Mary Bissell Estey

Ironically, the first person of the past that I chose to stalk was actually stalked while she lived. I discovered her in 2007 during research for West Hartford Hauntings, a cemetery tour that I helped run for 11 years (research, scriptwriting, directing, costuming... the whole deal!). That year, I found an article about Mary Bissell who lived on Park Road in West Hartford, Connecticut. Her story was fascinating! And I became... I guess you could say I became obsessed with Mary Elizabeth Wentworth Bissell Estey. 

Over the past 10 years, I've created a genealogy of five generations of her family, discovered siblings that were nowhere to be found, traveled to multiple states, and even visited her former home (which was amazing, by the way, and thank you infinitely to the house's current owners!).

Me in Mary's parlor!

This post is just a snippet of the information I have about Mary and the events of June 1877.

Benjamin Franklin Bissell's property is at the top of the image.

In 2007, we wrote a script, cast the scene, rehearsed, I met my husband, and we put on the show. Yes, I met and fell in love with my husband in a cemetery. And he played Mary Bissell's stalker (and possible lover) John McGuire. 

Mary's life got complicated in November of 1876 when her husband Frank passed away. A rumor went around that he was poisoned, but no evidence was ever found. Why would someone poison Frank? He was a good guy as far as I can tell. He went to church, farmed his land, and ran an omnibus in the 1860s. He and Mary had and lost three natural children, and then adopted a child named Ida in the mid-1870s. In 1875, he hired a guy named John McGuire as a farmhand. Everyone loved John while he was on the farm. The family sat together in the parlor (shocking for a farmhand to sit in the parlor!) and exchanged Christmas gifts. He was the perfect employee.

Until Frank died. Then it all hit the fan. A letter he later wrote to Mary indicated that they might have colluded to get the farm and marry each other after Frank's death. Frank was twenty years older than her, and Mary had married him at the age of 20. John was noted in the papers as being in his mid-to-late twenties and very attractive. Could the two have had an affair and worked together to get their hands on the farm?

While the winter of 1877 seems to have passed fairly quietly, John was injured in the spring and Mary hired Elias Ives to replace him. This did not go down well with John. He was ticked and seems to have lost it. He started drinking, following her, and eventually threatening Mary, her family, and everyone she knew. She eventually paid him six months of extra wages hoping he would leave town, but he stuck around.

Throughout May and June, John threw stones at the house, broke windows, and actually chased her down the road when she was driving back alone from shopping in Hartford. After multiple incidents,  Mary went to the local police. Their advice was to get a gun and protect herself. So, her new farmhand Elias Ives got a gun and Mary hired men to watch her house every night. She slept in different rooms and wouldn't keep the lights on in case John came by the house at night.

On June 14, 1877, he did just that. The family was settling in for the night. Mary was in her upstairs bedroom, the farmhands were sitting outside the kitchen door, and Ida and Mary's roommate Mrs. Sedgwick were working in the kitchen. John's voice was heard outside, and Ives grabbed his gun and went around the side of the house to see if John would come onto the property. John stepped through the gate, speaking to Mary, and continued into the yard. John and Mary had a conversation that went something like this:

Mary: Is that you, John?

McGuire: Yes, how are you? Are you going to give me more money?

Mary: No, I’ll never give you another dollar!

McGuire: Won’t you? Then I’ll do what I said I would.  

John reached into his coat pocket, and...

You'll have to wait until my next post to find out what happened!

Mary received an unsigned letter on June 12, which she later said was from John. Do you think they were having an affair? Colluding to get the farm? Leave a comment below!

Hartford June 2d

Mary. A. Bissell

I have waited long enough to see you and I want to know if you are going to give me what you promised to give me when you got the title on the place[;] and that was only a third of what you promised to do and that as soon as you got the deed to your place[.] I never will ask you again[.] [Y]ou know it was you that Brought me in to Every thing (sic) and it was not my fault[.] I never will trouble you nor never be seen in this town afterwards[.] [I]f you do not agree to that[,]  I will wait until I get what I am looking for if it was to be five years[-] and that is you[;] and then I will go when I have you with you. You know when I was there you pressed me to do so and so[,] and you have not done it[.] [N]o longer than last week you offered me more pay and I would not take it. [Y]ou know you damed [sic] my soul and I will put the rest where it belongs[.] [N]ow think this over and let me know soon[.] You know you can see me any time you wish if you wanted to[.]  [I]f not[,] this the last word you will ever hear out of my lips[.] But rember (sic) I mean gust (sic) what I say and you know I always did.

No more. But I will see you if it was noontime in the daytime and More Be Sides you[.]

Good by (sic)

Let me Know Soon.