Today’s post has very little original research material, and is instead a compilation of the information I have about Lawrence Hawkins, who was the grandfather of Stella McLaughlin, mother of Ray Hurd and June Hurd Juvet. Since much of the information came from his brother, I found it very compelling. [I received pdf files of pamphlets written by S. N. Hawkins (Stephen Nathaniel Hawkins) from another researcher. ]
Lawrence Hawkins was born in Killeenadeema, County Galway, Ireland. Killeenadeema is a small village surrounded by farmland. The nearest market town is Loughrea, named for the nearby lake, the name meaning “Grey Lake.”
During the potato famine in1840s, family lore says that Lawrence’s parents, Lawrence and Cecelia and their 16 children were evicted from their home.
by Thomas P. Kinney
In this photograph, the house has fallen into ruin about 130 years after the Hawkins left it. The exterior may have been plastered and whitewashed when they lived there, although many Irish homes of the time were made simply of stone.
Passage to America was expensive, and the family was unable to travel together, which must have been frightening and disappointing, perhaps especially to the children. The first of the family to leave Ireland was brother John who settled in Meriden, Connecticut, eighteen miles inland, across Long Island Sound from Long Island, New York. Next to arrive were father Lawrence, mother Cecilia, and brothers Thomas, Patrick and Michael in 1849. Sister Winifred followed six months later with the youngest and smallest of the brothers, Peter and Stephen Nathaniel, ages 5 and 3. Finally, in November 1850, twelve year old Lawrence (the subject of today’s post) and his nine year old brother Martin crossed the Atlantic, with someone who was probably an aunt on their mother’s side. Other grown siblings eventually joined the family with their spouses, but I haven’t been able to find them on passenger lists yet.
In one of his several memoirs, Stephen Nathaniel Hawkins wrote that his brother Lawrence received a fair education in Meriden. Lawrence must then have been an industrious student, for less than two years after his arrival, in 1852, the whole extended family decided to head west to Wisconsin. They lived for a couple of years in the “Irish Lane” settlement near Fitchburg, which is about seven miles from Madison.
The land they tried to farm in Irish Lane was very steep and not suitable for farming. Another nickname for the area was “the Alps.” By 1855, Lawrence’s mother Cecilia had died, and the family decided to form a wagon train and move west. Father Lawrence Hawkins, whose birthdate is not certain, was at least 75 years old at the time, having been about twenty years older than his wife, and seems to have depended on his sons to take responsibility for getting the family across country safely on this journey of almost 300 miles. Their destination was the western edge Wisconsin, in a place nestled between the St. Croix and the Mississippi River. It was about 35 miles east of St. Paul, Minnesota. (The city of Minneapolis wouldn’t be formed until over a decade later.) It’s currently believed that the area the Hawkins’ chose for settlement was “neutral territory between the Dakota and the Ojibwa” and had no permanent settlements until French traders settled along the St Croix river in the 1790s, about 50 years prior to the arrival of the Hawkins. The indigenous peoples probably felt differently about their claim to the land.
From A Pioneer Family by Stephen Nathaniel Hawkins:
Father had two covered wagons to accommodate his family, which then consisted of six unmarried sons, and two unmarried daughters. In true patriarchal style they proceeded on the journey. [At age 15, Lawrence would have been one of the unmarried sons.] My father’s wagon was in the lead, managed by brother Michael, followed by the other, driven by brother Patrick. Then the others followed in the order of their ages, the sons taking precedence of the daughters.
By common consent my brother Michael was selected to manage the leading wagon, and, in a sort of a joking manner, he was called “THE PILOT.” Brother John being the eldest son, was the spokesman whenever any occasion arose, for the whole group. He was the arbiter, or perhaps, I might say, the judge. When to start each morning, when, and at what place to stop and rest, where to ford the streams and rivers, which of several roads or trails to follow– all of these, and similar questions, were decided by brother John.
On several occasions during the journey, consultations were held over some mooted, or debatable questions, and after each householder had given his views on the matter, John’s opinion was called for, and like Peter of old, among the Apostles, John arose in their midst and gave his opinion, and that settled the matter.
Each morning John gave the word of command to start the teams, and if the head teamster, Michel, was not in readiness just then, John would call in a loud voice: “Where is the Pilot this morning?”
“PILOT AHEAD HERE!”
Our people had brought from Connecticut a huge seashell with a winding aperture through it, (the shell of a marine mollusk) and brother Lawrence had practiced upon that so he could make it be heard like a trumpet a distance of three miles or more.
If any of the young cattle strayed away, as was sometimes the case and those who went in search of them failed to show up or report within a reasonable time, the trumpet– we called it “THE HORN” — was sounded and pretty soon the hunter returned safely to camp. Lawrence had charge of that HORN, as we called it, and I think it is still with some member of his family, handed down as a family heirloom.
From Irish settlers of Fitchburg, Wisconsin, 1840-1860 p. 69-70:
After many days of travelling, these pioneers reached Pleasant Valley only to discover that their properties would be more difficult to settle than they had anticipated. Unlike Fitchburg’s mixture of prairie, woods and meadows, their Pleasant Valley land was covered by a woods that was dense with trees and underbrush. It was difficult to walk through this forest, and even more of a challenge to drive a wagon through it. For years after their arrival at what was to become known as the “Hawkins Settlement,” or “The Thicket,” the Irish were still chopping down trees and grubbing out stumps to expand their forest gardens into what cold be called fields. When these pioneers had cleared enough acres, they planted wheat cash crops as they had done in Fitchburg, and during the winter the wheat seed for the following spring was kept in a box in a corner of the log cabin. Flax was raised for linen, and the women spun sheep’s wool to be used for making warm clothing.
From Pioneer Colony by Stephen Nathaniel Hawkins:
Lawrence had received a pretty fair education in Connecticut, before the family came westward, and when Michael left the Old Home to make a home for himself, it seems that my father selected Lawrence, who was the next oldest son, to manage the homestead matters, and, partly on account of the fact that Lawrence was named after Father, and partly owing to the circumstances of the case, Lawrence succeeded to the homestead rights, and took the care and custody of father thereafter as long as he lived. After all the girls had married and settled in homes of their own, it fell to the lot of Lawrence and his wife to care for my father, who lived to the ripe old age of Ninety Two years. It was not an easy task by any means, because my father did not attempt to do any manual labor, of any kind, after he passed the fourscore mark [age 80,] consequently, the last few years of his life it was much more laborious to care for him than to care for a child of tender years. And that was one of the reasons that all of our family had a very kindly feeling for Lawrence’s wife, for, most certainly, she performed those duties in a filial manner. In his younger days Lawrence was quite a society man for those early pioneer times. He was about 5 ft. 8 in. in height, weight about 150 lbs., very dark brown, almost black, wavy curly hair, bluish gray eyes, very clear complexion, never became corpulent, and was a perfect figure. He was a fine singer, a good story teller, a pleasant conversationalist, was quite particular about his appearance, dressed neatly, and for a number of years was in great demand among the relatives, and among all of the neighbors, at all social gatherings. He also served his people in about all of the local town offices, including chairman of the Town Board. . . . At an early age, Lawrence married Ellen McCrate, a sister of Thomas McCrate, a grocer of Hudson, Wisconsin, and they both resided on that Old Homestead in Pleasant Valley until they died. She preceded him across the dark river some 21 years, and he lived the life of a widower, each daughter in her turn taking the place of Housekeeper, until all of them had settled in new homes of their own.
Lawrence and Ellen had at least 9 children. The boys helped their parents on the farm, and before they married, their teen daughters taught school. Wheat was the preferred crop, when it became possible to grow it, and then the focus turned to dairy farming and cheese making.
Lawrence Hawkins died at the family homestead in Pleasant Valley Wisconsin in 1901.
Additional Sources:
https://www.uwrf.edu/AreaResearchCenter/StCroixHistory.cfm
excerpt from Irish settlers of Fitchburg, Wisconsin, 1840-1860 by Kinney, Thomas P, Fitchburg Historical Society, 1993.
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One response to “Lawrence Hawkins”
Good job, honey! Very interesting.