Genealogy in England – A Hinde Family Adventure
Part I
"Dad was a bobby in London in
about 1905 and he met a guy in a pub– a scoundrel really – named Arthur Mamby
who was murdered in Taos a few years later. This Mamby character said that Taos
was a wonderful place in New Mexico where everyone would be settling. I guess
dad was ready for a change or something. He packed all their things and came
directly to Taos along with mom and Doris. When they got here, it was nothing
but the pueblo and just a handful of people living in town." This story from
Thomas George Hinde about his parents’ trip from England was just the beginning
of our search for our Hinde Family’s English roots.
The English have been migrating to the United States since 1607 when the first
colony was established at Jamestown, Virginia. Additional colonies were
established in the years following in Plymouth, Massachusetts; Salem,
Massachusetts; Hartford, Connecticut; Maryland; and Pennsylvania. This relative
trickle of migration increased until the period between 1820 and 1920 when 2.5
million people moved from England to the United States – among them William
Thomas Hinde, our "Grandpa Hinde." After generations in the US, these immigrants
have turned into millions of people with roots extending back to England and
other UK countries.
Our initial effort
was to begin to understand the family tree in a factual way. So we completed
interviews with relatives who knew Grandpa Hinde and his wife, Mary Elizabeth
Steer – our "Grandma Hinde." We also made some trips to Taos during vacations to
see grandpa’s blacksmith shop, the house he built, the old jail on the square,
and numerous other examples of his ironworking talents around town. We suspect
that he was commissioned to build the iron fence around Kit Carson’s grave –
just across the street from the Hinde home. On our last trip there we discovered
Hinde Street named in honor of this early day Taos pioneer family. This effort
produced some colorful stories about the trip from England and their life in
Taos along with some important documentation showing that the Grandpa Hinde was
born Kempston, Bedfordshire and Grandma Hinde was born in Risely, Bedfordshire.
Months turned into years as we gathered additional information about the Hinde
family that stretched back to 1824 Olney in Buckinghamshire where the family was
a stable member of the community for several generations. We found a distant
relative through an Internet discussion group that tied directly to our oldest
known relative in Olney – one of those happy occasions that we genealogists live
for. We also spent $100 US to hire a professional genealogist in England to
research William Thomas’ history as a bobby in London. As it turns out, he was
not a bobby at all – but his brother, Ernest, was. This is a good example of how
stories can get changed over time.
Both grandpa and grandma died before my wife and I were born. So, neither of us
knew them except through family stories and the factual information that we have
been able to find. At some time during our process we began to discuss a trip to
England to see the places they had seen, to be in the places they had been, and
to walk the places they had walked.
We decided on a combined tourist and genealogy trip that would include
highlights of London along with a few days of tromping through old church
cemeteries – my favorite part of any trip. We took the tube from the airport to
a stop near our hotel - a real adventure in my mind. As we came up out of the
station area into the bright light of London, a nice local man came up and said,
"You look like you are lost. How can I help you?" He gave us precise directions
to our stop and advice on a good local pub where we could lift a pint of bitter
on the way. The British are friendly and fun with razer-sharp wits that will
keep you on your toes.
After our time in London we took a train south to Maidstone where we picked up a
car and toured Leeds Castle, a beautiful and relaxing spot not yet covered with
tourists. Finally the genealogy portion of our trip was beginning! We continued
to Dover where we took a wrong turn and very nearly entered the Chunnel under
the strait to France. Thankfully, the tourist-friendly folks in England left a
last-minute turn-around for us. We enjoyed a dock-side pub within walking
distance from our hotel where I feasted on a fresh seafood platter in cream
sauce. Margaret discovered her English roots with a plate of bangers and mash
that was simply delicious. So much for the negative stories about English food;
we found it different but quite nice everywhere we went. We slept with the
window open to the channel where we peered through the fog watching the
flickering lights in France – yet another world away from home...
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