Why Can So Many Trace Their Ancestry to the Cherokees? - The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
Why Can So Many Trace Their Ancestry to the Cherokees?
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I grew up in a little Norwegian fishing community that was absorbed into Seattle proper. Just about every family that wasn’t pure Norwegian liked to boast about having an Indian princess in their lineage. It was always a Cherokee princess (considered one of the few civilized tribes of the times) and it was always a princess. Heaven forbid that some Cherokee prince had somehow “inserted himself,” as it were, into the family tree. But as far as Cherokee princesses went? My mother’s family (she was born in Illinois) did indeed make that claim — one that genealogy records do not support.

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Today, in this world of the internet and DNA mapping, it has never been easier to track family trees. Taking advantage of genealogy associations and genetic testing, around $100 and/or a few hours on the internet can make up for centuries (even millennia) of distance from remote ancestors.

It turned out that my great-great-great-great-grandfather was Thomas Howard, and his wife was Lettie Hatchett Gray Durham, a full-blood Cherokee. Through Lettie’s line, I tracked back through Tame Doe Five Killer Moytoy (1740–1760) to Chief Trader Tom Moytoy Amatoye R. Carpenter (1630–1692) and Pride Shawnee Woman Cornstalk (1615–1697). Eventually it got pre-Columbian — all the way back to Chief Morning Flower Powhatan (1389–1470) and Ripple Powhatan (1409–1518). Apparently, verbal traditions had survived, to be put in writing by early colonists as they recorded baptismal records, marriages, and burials.

After building that impressive family tree, I found a major detour — if not an absolute roadblock — when I logged back into the My Family Ancestry search engine and … everything stopped with Lettie. It turned out that Lettie Hatchet Gray Durham’s Cherokee origins had been challenged and erased. My very own Cherokee princess was gone.

What to do? I had just gotten used to harking all the way back through time to the real Pocahontas Powhatan, “and beyond.” Now I was “just” a “white guy” again. Not that there is anything wrong with that. But still…

I rolled up my sleeves, flexed my fingers, went back online, and found out that my great-great-grandfather, Jacob Howard, married Mahala Brock. I traced her line to James Calvin Brock (1772–1856), Aaron Totsu’hwa “Chief Red Bird” Brock (1721–1797), and Susannah Caroline Davis Priber (1725–1764). Chief Red Bird’s lineage stopped with “European” (father) and “Native American” (mother), but Susannah’s line continued on to Christian Gottlieb (1697–1744) and Susan Moytoy Carpenter (1702–1764). 

Suddenly? I’m off to the races again, to Savana Tom Carpenter Moytoy (1680–1711) and Quatsey II Susan Conjurer Place Rainmaker Moytoy (1682–1758), and Skayagustuego Fivekiller Carpenter (1634–1741) and Nancy Chalakatha Quatsie II Rain Maker (1636–1732).

 Crossing a couple more corners, I got to Opechancanough Mangopeesomon Powatan (1556–1645) and Cleopatra Shawano Powhatan (1602–1680), and all the way back to none other than Chief Morning Flower Powhatan (1389–1470) and Ripple Powhatan (1409–1518). Amazing. All roads did indeed seem to run back through Cherokee “royalty” — although with the Brocks and Aaron Totsu’hwa “Chief Red Bird” Brock, there was indeed at least one Cherokee “prince.” But still — what were the chances that from Cherokees to Algonquins and maybe a few Creeks or Seminoles in between, I’d wind up back to Pocahontas and her people?

I have a theory, and without wishing to impugn Thomas and Lettie Howard or my Brock ancestors — or anyone else, for that matter — it just may stem back to 1893, the Dawes Commission, and “$5 Indians.” It seems that by the turn of the century, reparations of a sort, in terms of land holdings and even food rations, were being made available to certain peoples of the “Five Civilized Tribes,” and there was a land rush to prove pedigree. For the fee of $5, certain unscrupulous Indian Agency bureaucrats would provide a “convincing” family tree for paying (predominately “white”) customers, tracking back legitimate ancestors until things got fuzzy and then plugging them into existing cookie-cutter tribal pedigrees. 

At least eight Howard “cousins” applied to the Dawes Commission by 1909 for Cherokee compensation. All were turned down. I’m not sure about the Brock side of the family. If they paid their $5, I hope that they got their money back.

Now, 23andMe lists my “Native American/SE Asian Ancestry Composition” as only 0.3 percent (an additional 0.2 percent is “Unassigned”). But that’s me. All my other Howard cousins contacted through 23andMe have zero Amerindian markers. Zero. It is simply amazing how a few generations can thin the blood. This makes me wonder if maybe my mother’s side of the family had a Cherokee princess or prince in the mix after all (or at least a couple of SE Asians or Pacific Islanders). 

Still, 0.5 percent or even 0.3 percent is still a lot more than quondam Democratic presidential candidate Elizabeth Warren has—and she supposedly bartered her claims for university admission and preferential placement. She even peddled a “tribal cookbook.” (RELATED: No Hollywood Ending for Fake Indian Sacheen Littlefeather)

Seriously, though, my recent successes exploring my predecessors have been a real eye-opener. I even found out that I share Neanderthal variants — less than 4 percent of my overall DNA, but more than 21 percent of 23andMe customers. 

My maternal haplogroup tracks back to a 10th-century Viking warrior, buried in full armor, with sword, shield, etc. — everything a warrior woman would need in Valhalla. That would probably impress my old Norwegian school chums more than Pocahontas.

I share a paternal path to Niall of the Nine Hostages, king of Tara in the fourth century in what is now Northwest Ireland. Maybe that would get me a shot or two of Bushmills, or Jameson’s, in the right Irish pub.

Of course, genealogies like to punctuate the backward branching with Indian chiefs, Cherokee princesses, Viking Amazons, and Irish kings. I get it, and I am not complaining. I found the whole process intriguing, enlightening, entertaining, and educational — and truly enjoyed the journey.

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