Tag Archives: Indian River

Sambo, Paris, and Ceasor: Cord Hazzard’s Negro Boys

A few days ago I was reading the will of Cord Hazzard, made in 1766, in the hopes of learning more about a piece of land he sold to John Regua in 1754, and noticed that he had given his son, David, “…one negro boy named Sambo and one negro boy named Paris and one negro boy named Ceasor…”  Slaves, in other words.

I’ve been looking at a number of records pertaining to free blacks lately, and have always been interested in connecting free blacks to slave ancestors, so I did a few quick searches to see if I could learn any more about Sambo, Paris, and Ceasor. Surprisingly, potential matches for all three appear in census records from 1800 through 1830.

First, a bit of background information. Cord Hazzard was one of several men with that name; I can think of four off the top of my head. The unusual name was most likely inspired by a member of the local Cord family. He is most likely the same Cord Hazzard who had a 100-acre tract named Flat Land surveyed for him in 1727. Though located in Somerset County, Maryland, at the time, a reference to a path from Cedar Neck points to today’s Baltimore Hundred in Sussex, perhaps near Ocean View. It seems the peninsular boundary dispute didn’t faze Cord, for he also acquired lands on the north side of Indian River, then controlled by Pennsylvania. Other members of the Hazzard family owned a great deal of land in what is now eastern Sussex.

Will of Cord Hazzard, 1766

Although I don’t know exactly where Cord was living when he made his will, it mentions Swan Creek Branch and Long Neck, both in Indian River Hundred. The probate date is January 11, 1771, meaning Cord died in late 1770 or early 1771.

When David Hazzard made his will in 1790, he mentioned sons Cord, David, James, and John, but not Sambo, Paris, or Ceasor. It’s possible that they were simply considered part of his estate, and divided among the sons, or it’s possible that they were no longer in the elder David’s possession at the time. Strictly speaking — and without digging through manumission records and the like at the Delaware Public Archives — their fate is unknown.

But speculatively speaking, which is more fun, a handful of 19th-century census records suggest that they might have been freed and might have kept/taken the Hazzard surname.

In 1800, there was a free colored head of household in Broadkiln Hundred named Parris Hazzard, and a free colored head of household in Mispillion Hundred named Caesar Hazzard.

Interestingly, there is also an 1810 record for a man named Paris Coard who was living in Broadkiln Hundred. There is no reason to assume that Paris Hazzard changed his surname to Coard, and this might be a coincidence, but it’s worth noting. It’s also worth noting that there were Mispillion heads of household listed as “Ceasar F. N.” and “Sambo F. N.” (free Negro) in 1810, but these are probably not our guys. Sambo is probably the man named Sambo Bounds in the 1820 census. There were also a number of other free black men named Caesar and Sambo living in Kent and Sussex Counties during the early 19th century.

In 1820, Casar Hazzard was a head of household in Murderkill Hundred, aged 45 or older, with a son aged 14-25, and a wife. That son might be the Ceesar Hazzard who appears in Cedar Creek Hundred in 1830, aged 36-54. The Casar Hazzard living in Murderkill Hundred in 1820 was born before 1776, so it’s possible that he was the Ceasor mentioned in Cord’s will in 1766. If there’s any truth to this scenario, then he was probably born in the 1750s and probably died in the 1820s at, say, age 60-75, leaving behind at least one adult son. His migration from Indian River Hundred to Kent County over the course of several decades is consistent with the trends of the time (for example, some members of the mulatto Rigware/Ridgeway family followed a similar path to the Cheswold area).

In 1830, Sambo Hazzard was a head of household in Indian River Hundred, aged 55-99. The only other member of the household was a female who was 100 or older. This gives Sambo a birthdate range of 1731 – 1775, while the woman (if the record is correct) was born before 1731. Personally, I think it’s likely that this is the same Sambo mentioned in Cord’s will, because the name, age, and location are all consistent. All that’s missing is evidence for his manumission. Sambo was probably born in the 1750s or early 1760s, and probably died before 1840 in his seventies or eighties. Where was he prior to 1830? Perhaps he was still a slave, or perhaps he was free, yet living in another man’s household.

A genealogist could offer any number of objections to this scenario. For example, freed slaves didn’t necessarily go by their former masters’ surnames, though many did. Even so, it’s a matter of fact that Cord Hazzard left slave boys named Sambo, Paris, and Ceasor to his son, and it’s a matter of fact that there were free black men named Parris Hazzard, Caesar Hazzard, and Sambo Hazzard living in the right part of Delaware just a few decades later. Whether these facts are connected in the way I’ve suggested is a matter for further research, discussion, and contemplation.

– Chris Slavens

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Revisiting the Delaware Moors, Part I: The Legends

I was a teenager when I first heard someone use the term Moor to refer to a member of central Sussex County’s multiracial community, which claims and celebrates Native American ancestry. “Moor?” I asked, confused, thinking of northern Africa. “What’s that mean?” The response was quipped like a punchline: “More nigger than anything.”

I didn’t know it at the time, but C. A. Weslager had mentioned a similar tongue-in-cheek explanation of the odd label in his book Delaware’s Forgotten Folk: The Story of the Moors and Nanticokes, published in 1943. During that era of segregation, such a remark was not only a crude joke, but relegated the target to the second-class colored community. Since before the Civil War, Delawareans who claimed Indian ancestry had been accused, by both whites and blacks, of being nothing more than blacks seeking special treatment.

But the local term Moor, as an ethnic label, doesn’t seem to have originated as a racial slur. In fact, the so-called Delaware Moors identified themselves as Moors as early as the 19th century, if not earlier. But what’s the story behind the name?

Scharf’s History of Delaware, published in 1888, offers the following description of the group in question in Sussex County:

In the hundreds of Indian River, Lewes and Rehoboth and Dagsborough are a numerous class of colored people, commonly called yellow men, and by many believed to be descendants of the Indians, which formerly inhabited this country. Others regard them as mulattoes and still others claim that they are of Moorish descent. From the fact that so many of them bear the name of Sockum, that term has also been applied to the entire class of people. Of their genealogy, Judge George P. Fisher said:

“About one hundred and fifty years ago a cargo of slaves from Congo River was landed at Lewes, and sold to purchasers at that place. Among them was a tall, fine-looking young man about five and twenty years. This man was called Requa, and was remarkable for his manly proportions and regular features, being more Caucasian than African. Requa was purchased by a young Irish widow, having red hair, blue eyes and fair complexion. She afterwards married him. At that time the Nanticoke Indians were still quite numerous at and near Indian River. The offspring of Requa and his Irish wife were not recognized in the white society, and they would not associate with the negroes, and they did associate and intermarry with the Indians.

“This statement was made on oath of Lydia Clark, at Georgetown, in 1856, in the trial of the case of the State against Levin Sockum for selling, contrary to law, powder and shot to one Isaiah Harman, alleged to be a free mulatto. The question upon which the case turned was whether Harman really was a free mulatto, and the genealogy of that race of people was traced by Lydia Clark, then about eighty-seven years of age, who was of the same race of people.

“The court was so well convinced of the truth of Lydia’s testimony that Sockum was convicted of the charge preferred against him.

“This race of people are noted as peaceable, law-abiding citizens, good farmers, and are known as Moors, but without any foundation. The name Requa or Regua is now handed down as Ridgeway.”

The exclusiveness spoken of continues to the present time. This class of people maintains its separate social life (so far as it is possible to do so) seldom intermarrying with the negroes or mulattoes, and support separate churches. The number in the county is diminishing, owning to removals and natural causes but enough remain to make it a distinctive element.

Interestingly, Fisher wrote an article for the Milford Herald in 1895 which offers a somewhat different version of the story (which was picked up by numerous newspapers across the country around that time). In this slightly later version, it is the Irish lady who was named Regua, and she purchased a slave of “dark ginger-bread color, who claimed to be a prince or chief of one of the tribes of the Congo River…” Though most of the details are the same, the few differences raise questions about Fisher’s reliability, as in each case he is supposedly recounting Lydia Clark’s testimony.

The Roanoke Times, July 27, 1895

The Roanoke Times, Virginia; July 27, 1895

The article from 1895 might be more valuable for Fisher’s recollections from his own childhood, particularly of Noke Norwood, said to be Lydia Clark’s brother:

When I was a boy and young man, the general impression prevailing in the several parts of this State where this race of people had settled was that they had sprung from some Spanish Moors who, by chance, had drifted from the southern coast of Spain prior to the Revolutionary War and settled at various points on the Atlantic Coast of the British colonies; but exactly where and when, nobody could tell.

This story of their genesis seemed to have originated with, or at any rate, was adopted by the last Chief Justice, Thomas Clayton, whose great learning and research gave semblance of authority to it, and, like almost everybody else, I accepted it as the true one for many years, although my father, who was born and reared in that portion of Sussex County where these people were more numerous than in any other part of the State, always insisted that they were an admixture of Indian, negro and white man, and gave his reason therefore–that he had always so understood from Noke Norwood, whom I knew when I was a small boy. Noke lived, away back in the 20’s, in a small shanty long since removed, situated near what has been known for more than a century as Sand Tavern Lane, on the West side of the Public Road and nearly in front of the farmhouse now owned by Hon. Jonathan S. Willis, our able and popular Representative in Congress.

I well remember with what awe I contemplated his gigantic form when I first beheld him. My father had known him as a boy, and I never passed his cabin without stopping. He was a dark, copper-colored man, about six feet and half in height, of splendid proportions, perfectly straight, coal black hair (though at least 75 years old), black eyes and high cheek bones.

Fisher was born in 1817, so according to him, a legend concerning Spanish Moors settling on the coast prior to the Revolution was widely known in Delaware during his youth — say, 1820s – 1840. This is important, because Clark never actually said the word Moor in her testimony, and it’s difficult to determine when Delawareans started using the word as an ethnic label.

In 1898, William H. Babcock visited the Indian River community and wrote an article entitled “The Nanticoke Indians of Indian River, Delaware,” which was published in American Anthropologist the following year.

There are two remnants of Indian population in eastern Delaware, not far from the coast — the so-called Moors of Kent county and the more southerly Nanticokes on Indian river in Sussex county.

Of the former I can speak by report only, not having visited them. According to an old legend they are the offspring of Moors shipwrecked near Lewes; a more romantic version gives them only one Moorish progenitor — a captive prince who escaped from his floating prison and found wife and home among the half-Indian population alongshore. There are said to be two or three hundred of these people, clustering mainly around Chesholm, a hamlet and railroad station a few miles south of Dover. The Philadelphia Press for December 1st, 1895, presents a series of portraits which, if accurate, go far to sustain the contention of the Nanticokes that there is not much in common between the two peoples; but their intercourse is too slight and infrequent for their judgment to be conclusive. They consider the Chesholm people to be a mixture of Delaware Indians with some Moorish or other foreign strain. According to their tradition the Nanticoke and Delaware tribes were often at war in the old time, and even yet there would seem to be a barrier of rather more than indifference between them.

Babcock’s distinction between Moors in Kent County and Nanticokes in Sussex County is interesting, though not strictly accurate. Barrier or not, the communities at Cheswold and Indian River were connected by marriage, and shared many of the same surnames (not to mention the same folklore), before 1898 (and probably before the Civil War). Weslager’s later research among the Cheswold Moors revealed that some claimed Nanticoke, and even Pocomoke, ancestry, remembering the specific creeks in Sussex County and Maryland that their grandparents had lived by. And, of course, the members of the Indian River community were known as Moors, too. However, it’s a matter of fact that the Indian River people legally established a new Indian tribe in the form of the Nanticoke Indian Association, while the people at Cheswold continued to call themselves Moors long afterward (though today there is a “Lenape Indian Tribe of Delaware” based in Cheswold). Is this important? Maybe, maybe not.

In his History of the State of Delaware, published in 1908, Henry Clay Conrad made a rather sensational statement in a section about Kent County:

James Green another large owner of land in Duck Creek Hundred owned a large tract in Kenton known as “Brenford,” Philip Lewis took up several large tracts adjoining these and extending from a small settlement known as the “Seven Hickories,” on the road from Dover to where the village of Kenton was eventually built on his land; and one thousand acres adjoining the settlement of “Seven Hickories” were owned by Moors who came to the Hundred direct from Spain in 1710, and who settled in a village known as Moortown on the Dover-Kenton road.

In 1785 these Moors owned large estates and had a prosperous and thriving community. John and Israel Durham were leading members of this settlement. They and their descendants refused to mingle with their white or black neighbors and have maintained to this day their pure Moorish blood. Several families now remain in this section as direct descendants of these Moors.

Conrad’s account seems to be an exaggerated interpretation of a much more reasonable passage in Scharf’s history of Kenton Hundred:

West of the town of Moorton are a class of people who claim that they are original Moors. At one time they owned over a thousand acres between Seven Hickories and Moorton. They claim to have settled here about 1710. In 1785 there were several families owning quite large estates, among whom were John and Israel Durham. They have always lived apart from both white and colored neighbors, and have generally intermarried, and steadily refused to attend the neighboring colored schools. In 1877, Hon. Charles Brown, of Dover, gave them ground and wood for a building near Moore’s Corner, and since that time they have maintained a school there at their own expense. There are about fifteen families remaining.

The information published by Scharf is surprisingly specific. I.e., in the 1880s, the residents of the community west of Moorton claimed Moorish ancestry, and furthermore claimed that their ancestors had settled in the neighborhood circa 1710. These claims are fairly subdued compared to the other legends involving shipwrecks and African princes. This doesn’t make them true, but it does make them difficult to ignore; the researcher feels compelled to take a closer look.

To be continued…

– Chris Slavens

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The Sockum Family and the Nanticoke Indians: Further Research

In March of 2014 I wrote an article entitled “Sockum and the Nanticokes of Broad Creek,” which summarized genealogical and historical data connecting the Sockum family to the Nanticoke Indians who lived around Broad Creek in the 18th century. The information raised more questions than it answered; although many Sockums appeared in early records — even as early as 1756 — it’s difficult to connect them to each other.

Although I haven’t uncovered any major new information (i.e., indisputable evidence of a Sockum-Nanticoke connection), with the annual Nanticoke Indian Powwow coming up in a few weeks, now is a perfect time to offer a somewhat tentative interpretation of some of the early Sockum information which might help us to better understand this family’s history. I want to make it clear that I’m engaging in speculation here — very informed speculation, based on primary sources like census and tax records — but speculation nonetheless.

I. James and Rachel Sockam, 1756 – 1757, near Rewastico Creek

The story begins with James Sockam and his wife, Rachel, who were living in the household of James Weatherly in Nanticoke Hundred, Somerset County, Maryland, in 1756. The following year, they had their own household in the same hundred. Lest today’s reader wrongly assume that this location was in today’s Somerset County, a word of explanation is in order. At that time, there was no Wicomico County, and Somerset and Worcester Counties included more than half of today’s Sussex County, Delaware. Nanticoke Hundred was the area between the Nanticoke and Wicomico Rivers, roughly. Although I’ve read that the area south of Broad Creek (today’s Little Creek Hundred) was considered part of Somerset County at the time, many land records identify tracts in this area as belonging to Worcester County.

Although the fairly large Nanticoke Hundred included (in today’s terms) Quantico, Hebron, parts of Salisbury, Delmar, and half of Laurel, land records pertaining to James Weatherly and other members of the Weatherly family help us to narrow it down. In 1716, a 136-acre tract of land named Weatherles Marshes was described as “lying and being in Somerset County on the southernmost side of Nanticoak River and on ye north side of Rowasticoe Creek…” The tract was patented to James and William Weatherly in 1728. In 1755, a 75-acre tract named Weatherly’s Lot was surveyed for James Weatherly, and was described as “Begining at a Marked Read Oak standing on the North side of Rewastico Creek back in the woods and on the East side of the main Road that leads from Rewastico Mill to Barren Creek Mill…” Other surveys pertaining to the Weatherly family point at the same general area: East of the Nanticoke, north of Rewastico Creek, and south of Barren Creek, roughly in the neighborhood of Hebron.

The record for 1757 tells us little more. James “Scokem” was now a head of household, but hadn’t moved far; James Weatherly’s household number was 163, while Sockam’s was 167. No household members other than Rachel are listed, but they wouldn’t have been unless they were at least 15 years old, so the couple may have had children.

The will of James Weatherly, Sr., dated 1761, mentions several slaves by their first names, as well as oddly referring to Joseph Weatherly as his “friend,” but does not mention the Sockams or offer any clues as to why they were dependents in his household just five years earlier. The place name Cedar Landing appears in the will a couple of times.

So it seems that I was wrong two years ago when I stated that James and Rachel Sockam probably lived in what is now Little Creek Hundred, Sussex County, Delaware. Between 1756 and 1757, at least, they lived near Rewastico Creek. The difference isn’t major — the two neighborhoods are only separated by a few miles, maybe a dozen, probably fewer than twenty — and doesn’t affect the theory that James Sockam might have been a Nanticoke Indian, since the territory in question was still Nanticoke territory, and wasn’t far from Chicacoan Town. However, it was a bit far from Wimbesoccom Creek, later known as Sockum Creek. I still believe that there must be a connection between this Nanticoke Indian place-name and the Sockum surname, but obviously the connection is a mystery at this point, and the fact that the earliest known Sockum didn’t live near Wimbesoccom raises even more questions.

II. Sockums in Dagsborough Hundred, 1770s – 1800

James — or possibly a son named James — next appears in “Dagsberry” Hundred in 1777, along with an Isaac Sockom. Both were considered colored. James appears in records throughout the 1780s and 1790s, always in Dagsborough Hundred. In 1784, a “widow Sockam” is mentioned. In 1795-1796, a Lowder or Loweder Sockum was taxed, also in Dagsborough Hundred. At that time, the hundred included the area east of Broad Creek, south of Indian River, and west of Vine Creek, including part of the future Gumborough Hundred. Interestingly, it also included the site of the old “Indian River Indian” reservation known as Askesky. The reservation lands were no longer owned by Indians in 1777, but it’s certainly possible that remnants of the local Indian tribes still lived nearby — and the Sockums in question may have been some of them.

These Indians (or part Indians) had consciously chosen to stay behind when most of the Nanticokes migrated north a few decades earlier. Why? We can only speculate. Maybe they had already mixed with whites and/or blacks and weren’t really considered part of the tribe. Maybe they preferred to adopt European culture, even if that meant forsaking much of their heritage and living as mulattoes. Maybe they just couldn’t bear to leave their homeland.

There is no proof that James Sockam was a Nanticoke Indian, or even part Indian. However, he certainly wasn’t white. My personal theory at this time is that he was at least part Nanticoke, probably with white and/or black blood, making him “colored” in the eyes of his white neighbors. His colored descendants — whether considered mulattoes or Negroes — would have naturally been more likely to marry blacks than whites due to the attitude of the times. Yet they also would have been likely to preserve stories of Indian ancestry if, in fact, they had any. If this was the case, then we should expect later Sockums to remember that heritage — which is exactly what happened in at least two branches of the family (see Section III).

The gap between 1757 and 1777 might have something to do with the resolution of the boundary dispute between Maryland and Pennsylvania. A resident of the Dagsborough Hundred area prior to 1775 or thereabouts wouldn’t have appeared in any Sussex County records, since the territory was still claimed by Worcester County, Maryland.

III. Sockums in Sussex County, 1800 – 1820s

The name James Sockum (with spelling variations) appears in census records for 1800, 1810, and 1820:

1800: James Socom, Dagsborough Hundred, 4 free persons in household

1810: James Sockem, Little Creek Hundred, 8 free persons in household

1820: James Soccomm (or Soccaum; spelling unclear), Dagsborough Hundred, 2 foreigners not naturalized

These records raise more questions than they answer. Although each record indicates that the entire household was non-white, the connection to Little Creek Hundred is a bit confusing. It’s also unclear whether we’re dealing with one man named James Sockum, or more. With records spanning 1756 through 1820 — a period of 64 years — it seems certain that there were at least two. But was the James Sockam living in Dagsborough Hundred in 1820 the same man who was living there in 1777? Probably, but we can’t be certain.

The Little Creek Hundred record might be explained by the will of Levin Thompson, dated 1804 (with additions as late as 1810). Thompson was a free black who settled in Little Creek Hundred in the 1790s. He became rather wealthy and is an important figure in the history of the Laurel area, and may also be important in the history of the Sockum family. In 1801, Thompson was taxed in Dagsborough Hundred (where he also owned land), and apparently he had purchased 80 acres from James Sockam, though I’ve yet to find the deed. In his will, he left “the place where James Sockam formerly lived” to his son, “Clemmon.” It’s not entirely clear whether he was referring to land in Little Creek Hundred or Dagsborough Hundred. However, in 1817, Clement Thompson sold Levi Hopkins an 89-acre parcel of land in Dagsborough Hundred, which was described as “Beginning at a marked white oak standing on the north side of Shelah’s Branch between James Sockums and Ezekiel [Mearres?]…” Perhaps this parcel included the 80 acres his father had purchased from James Sockum years earlier. Assuming that Shelah’s Branch was an early name for Shoals or Shields Branch, the location was tantalizingly close to the site of the old Indian reservation, as well as Wimbesoccom Neck.

My personal theory at this time is that the records from 1777 through 1820 all referred to the same man, who may have been the son of the James Sockam who lived near Rewastico Creek in the 1750s. This second James Sockam/Sockum was considered colored, probably had at least six children, and probably died in the 1820s.

IV. Sockums in Sussex County, 1820s – 1880s

Between 1821 and 1850, four Sockum households were established in Sussex County, headed by men close enough in age to have been brothers, although there is no proof of that. In fact, their relationship to each other is unknown. But, since I’m speculating, let’s consider the possibility that all four were James Sockam’s sons.

  1. William Sockum was born between 1795 and 1806. In 1830, he was a “Negro” head of household in Broad Creek Hundred (which included the future Gumborough Hundred at that time) with a wife and a daughter under the age of 10. He might have moved away and died in Philadelphia in 1846; further research is needed.
  2. Levin Sockum was born in 1807, and was a head of household in Indian River Hundred by 1840. He had many children, and is the best-known Sockum for being convicted of selling ammunition and gunpowder to a mulatto in the 1850s, despite the buyer’s claim to be an Indian rather than a mulatto. The story of the trial has been told in many sources, notably Delaware’s Forgotten Folk by C. A. Weslager, so I won’t go into further detail here. His neighborhood was nicknamed Sockum or Down Sockum. Levin moved to New Jersey in the early 1860s, changed the family name to Sockume, and died in 1864. Levin’s branch of the family insisted that they were Indians, not mulattoes or Negroes.
  3. Elisha Sockom was born between 1805 and 1816, and was a head of household in Dagsborough Hundred in 1840. He was described as colored, and had three or four children at the time. He appears to have moved to Camden County, New Jersey, where records suggest that he may have been a few years older. An 1880 census record and his death certificate state that he was born in 1794.
  4. Isaac Sockum was born circa 1811, and was a head of household in Broadkill Hundred by 1850. He was described as a mulatto. He and his wife, Louise or Louisa Sammons, had several children. Interestingly, one son was named James. Another, Stephen, is mentioned in Delaware’s Forgotten Folk, and reported that Isaac had claimed that the family was descended from a white man who married an Indian chief’s daughter. Isaac died in Milton in 1894 at the age of 83. At one time, the site of his farm was known as Sockumtown.
Levin Sockum(e), 1807 - 1864

Levin Sockum(e), 1807 – 1864

Another Sockum of unknown origin from this period is a 41-year-old Stephen Sockum who died in 1850 and was buried in the Bethel Colored Burial Ground in Philadelphia, indicating that the Sockum family’s connection to Philadelphia and/or Camden County, New Jersey, existed before Levin moved there in the 1860s.

Yet another person of interest is Ann Sockam, who married Josiah Miller in Kent County, Delaware, in 1849. Although I haven’t done any research on this couple, it’s worth noting that Cheswold, Kent County, was (and is, to an extent) the home of a multiracial community of so-called Moors, which is known to have been connected to the similar community in Sussex County which founded the Nanticoke Indian Association. Additionally, there was a neighborhood named Sockum near Felton in the mid-19th century.

Of course, we can’t be certain that any of these individuals were siblings, but it seems likely that they were closely related. Names like James (for example, Levin’s son Levin James Sockum), Isaac, and Stephen appear often enough for a blood connection to be logical. So why did they all live so far apart? This is a mystery, especially since my theory holds that all had roots in Dagsborough Hundred, and in the original Nanticoke territory prior to that. One possibility which would require quite a bit of research to investigate is that the men married into other multiracial families living in smaller “Moor” communities which preceded the larger and better-known communities in Indian River Hundred and Cheswold. Isaac’s settlement in Broadkill Hundred may have had more to do with job opportunities; as a ship’s carpenter (in 1880), there were only so many places to work.

V. Thoughts on the Sockum Family’s Indian Heritage

The fact that both Levin and Isaac Sockum — who may or may not have been brothers — told their children stories about Indian heritage suggests that there was truth behind those stories. If they were brothers, and if their father was James Sockam of Dagsborough Hundred, and if his father was James Sockam of Rewastico Creek, then they were separated from the Nanticoke era — i.e., the reservations at Chicacoan and Broad Creek, and the Wimbesoccom event, and the exodus beginning in the late 1740s — by only a couple of generations. They thought of their Indian heritage the way that today’s millennials think of the Great Depression; they hadn’t experienced it directly, but it was much more than some distant myth.

The specific details of that heritage, of course, are very unclear. One problem with Isaac Sockum’s claim that a white man married the daughter of an Indian chief is that it doesn’t explain the surname; if Sockum is a Nanticoke name, then it’s highly unlikely that an Englishman would have adopted it or passed it on to his heirs. It’s more likely that an Englishman fathered illegitimate children with an Indian woman, and they wound up with an Indian surname. Or, a freed black slave with no surname married an Indian woman, and adopted an Indian name.

Another problem, though it’s a very minor one, is that the name Sockum isn’t connected to any known Indian individual in any historical sources. Maryland records include a number of 18th-century Nanticoke surnames, such as Asquash, Coursey, and Puckum, but neither Sockum nor any similar term appears in those records (of course, Sockum and Puckum are somewhat similar, but no link between the two has been found). However, since Wimbesoccom Creek was certainly a Nanticoke name, and it was later shortened to Sockum Creek, I think it’s safe to assume that the surname was also of Nanticoke origin.

Lower Sussex County, 1796.

Lower Sussex County, 1796

It’s interesting — but possibly a meaningless coincidence — that Sockum sounds similar to the Algonquin term sachem, which means chief or emperor, and that when the Nanticokes and other tribes held their famous powwow at Wimbesoccom in 1742, they claimed that they had gone there to elect an emperor. Could it be that the site was traditionally used by the tribe to meet and choose emperors? I tend to doubt it (I think the tribes met there in 1742 because it was conveniently located between the reservations at Broad Creek and Askesky, and was on the outskirts of the swamp), but I mention the possibility for the sake of thoroughness.

VI. Avenues for Further Research

The subject of the roots of the Sockum family is far from closed, and there are a number points which deserve further research, such as:

  1. The exact location of James Weatherly’s plantation near Rewastico Creek, and an explanation for why James and Rachel Sockam were living in his household in 1756. There is at least one reference to a tract of land named Sockum located in this general area; finding more information about it could be helpful.
  2. The meaning of Wimbesoccom and Sockum in the Nanticoke language. Although Nanticoke is considered a dead language, clues might be found in other Algonquin languages. These names were not just random combinations of sounds; they meant something to the people who used them in and prior to the 1750s.
  3. The presence of Sockums in New Jersey and/or Philadelphia in the early to mid-19th century. It seems clear that they moved there from Sussex County, but when? And why?
  4. The presence of Sockums in Kent County, Delaware, as well as the fact that there was a neighborhood named Sockum near Felton. When did the name begin to appear in records?
  5. More information on William Sockum and Elisha Sockom, who may have been part of the early migration to New Jersey and/or Philadelphia.
  6. More information on the spouses of the Sockums, and their ancestry.

– Chris Slavens

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Askeksy and the “Indian River Indians”

By the beginning of the 18th century, the dwindling peninsula Indian tribes had been herded, through a series of wars and peace treaties, into several settlements, some of which were officially recognized and reserved for them by the colonial governments, and some of which were simply located on unclaimed land. One of the latter was the last refuge of a band of Indians – probably Assateagues – who had been forced to move several times, leaving the Buckingham area in eastern Somerset (now Worcester, near Berlin) at an unknown date, and migrating north in search of a new home. They settled at a place called Assawamen, which was probably a tributary of the Sound known as Indian Town Branch (now Dirickson Creek), but moved north again to the south side of Indian River, which was the de facto boundary between Maryland and Pennsylvania at the time. The subject of this article, their final recognized settlement, was in existence by 1705, and was known by several similar names, including Askeksy, Askekesky, Askeckeky, Askekson, Acksquessance, and Askquessence. The Indians themselves, because they had settled near the Indian River (also known as the Baltimore River) , became known as the Indian River Indians. It should be noted that this name referred to this specific band of Indians, although others lived on both sides of the river. Their name for themselves does not appear in any records from the period.

The so-called Indian River Indians first appear in official records dated May 1705, when their chief Robin appeared in Annapolis and signed a peace treaty on behalf of “Queen Wyransconmickonous.” Representatives of the Nanticokes and Choptanks also signed the treaty. Robin went on to tell Governor John Seymour that his people had “Extremly Suffered of Late Years by being disturbed & Expulsed from their several Settlements in Towns,” and were living in a town at the head of Indian River, but were “Continually Threaten’d to be Driven from thence…” He requested that the land on which their settlement was located, as well as one thousand adjacent acres, be reserved for the tribe’s use. The request was approved.

Askecksky

In modern terms, Askeksy was located south of Millsboro between Irons Branch and Route 24. The branch was known as Indian Town Branch or Indian Branch during the 18th century, and clearly matches the southern boundary of the tract. This boundary more or less survives as Indian Town Road (which was known as Injun Town Road for decades and as recently as a few years ago) and a portion of Hickory Hill Road. The location of the northwestern boundary is a bit less clear, but it seems like Route 24 follows it roughly, or was at least laid out in relation to portions of it. The following map shows how modern roads roughly outline the old reservation over three hundred years after it was established.

Approximate location of Askeksy; compare to above survey

Based on descriptions of nearby tracts surveyed for William Burton, as well as modern estimates of the extent of the Pocomoke or Cypress Swamp prior to drainage and timbering efforts, the reservation was probably somewhat swampy, or at least very close to the swamp’s northern edge. The description of a tract named Panter Swamp mentioned a waterhole on or near the west prong of Indian Town Branch. There were still black bears and timber rattlesnakes in the area at the time.

At about the same time that Askeksy was established, most of the Nanticokes moved from their reservation known as Chicacoan Town, near Vienna, to a site on Broad Creek which came to be known as Broad Creek Town. Aside from the fact that their leaders and Robin appeared in Annapolis at the same time, there is little information about their dealings with their new neighbors, just fourteen miles away. Recently I wrote about a so-called horse road which was in existence in 1748, connecting Broad Creek and the head of Indian River; this road may have begun as a trail between the two Indian settlements.

Nanticoke territory, 1742

Though the Indian River Indians aren’t mentioned in official records nearly as often as the Nanticokes, if the Nanticokes’ experiences during this period are any indication, they struggled to preserve their property and way of life as more and more land was cleared and farmed by the English. Sometimes the white farmers interfered with Indian hunters. Perhaps that’s why they joined the Nanticokes, Choptanks, Pocomokes, and visiting Shawnees at a place called Winnasoccum or Wimbesoccom for a secret powwow in June 1742. The tribes planned to massacre the local English settlers and retake the peninsula with the help of the French, who supposedly promised to land on the coast. The plot was discovered and thwarted, several Indians were arrested and interrogated, and in August the leaders of the Nanticokes, Choptanks, Indian River Indians, Pocomokes, and Assateagues signed a new, highly restrictive peace treaty. Tom Hill and Robin (probably the first Robin’s son) were identified as chiefs of the Indian River Indians.

In the years following the suppression of the Winnasoccum Uprising, as the event has been labeled by some, many of the peninsula Indian tribes abandoned their lands and migrated to Pennsylvania. The Indian River Indians had already sold hundreds of acres to local English settlers prior to 1742, and sold the remainder of their reservation to William Burton in 1743. There is no known record of their existence as an organized tribe or band following this sale, and strictly speaking, their fate is unknown. They may have joined the Nanticokes at Broad Creek Town, many of whom moved north in 1744. Perhaps they moved north, too, or perhaps, like some of the Nanticokes, they lingered in the area, intermarrying with whites and/or blacks and producing new generations of mulattoes who gradually adopted English ways and preserved vague traditions about Indian ancestry. If so, it seems likely that some would have joined the multiracial community on the north shore of the Indian River which was in existence as early as the 1840s, and which eventually spawned the Nanticoke Indian Association.

– Chris Slavens

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Road research, part 1: Broad Creek to Indian River

18th-century maps of the Delmarva Peninsula are frustratingly short on details when it comes to roads. The major routes are depicted, of course, like the well-known stage road from Salisbury to Laurel Town, but when it comes to some of the minor routes alluded to in land surveys from the first half of the century, researchers are left guessing. Waterways are usually the best geographical features to use as reference points, being more or less stationary and often (but not always) retaining their colonial-era names, but many of those ancient footpaths and roads still exist under the paved surfaces of modern highways. It’s just a matter of figuring out which ones.

One such colonial road of uncertain location is mentioned in the description of a tract surveyed for Philip Wingate in 1748: “…Beginning at a markd white oke standing on ye north side of Broad Creek about three miles back in ye woods & on ye north side of a horse Rode leading from ye aforsd Broad Creek to ye Indian River…”

As I don’t know exactly where Wingate’s land was located (“ye north side of Broad Creek” is a rather large area), I’m only speculating, but this so-called horse road may have originally linked the Nanticoke reservation known as Broad Creek Town and the Indian River Indian reservation known as Askecksy (among other, similar names), both of which were settled as early as 1705. The town of Laurel now occupies the site of Broad Creek Town, while Askecksy was located south of present-day Millsboro, near Injun Town Road or Indian Town Road.  It is known that the residents of these Indian towns had settled there to escape English encroachment, and had contact with each other, despite belonging to different tribes; in 1742, they met in the area roughly between the two reservations known as Winnasoccum or Wimbesoccom, and planned to attack the local English settlers, as explained here. Shortly thereafter, the Indian River Indians sold their land, and most of the Nanticokes migrated to Pennsylvania. By 1748, the road in question may have been used almost exclusively by the English, and may have led directly to the mills located near the branches of Indian River, rather than the old Indian lands located a few miles south of them.

I’ve crudely spliced together maps of Broad Creek Hundred and Dagsborough Hundred from the Pomeroy & Beers Atlas of 1868, which was the first map of the area to show its extensive network of unpaved roads, and highlighted the route that the horse road of 1748 may have followed. Eventually I’d like to complete a map of the entire area as it looked during the colonial era, but for now, this rough mash-up is better than nothing.

Beers, edited

– Chris Slavens

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“Sockum” and the Nanticokes of Broad Creek, part 2

A few months ago I posted an article entitled “Sockum” and the Nanticokes of Broad Creek, which explains why I believe the name Sockum, as both a surname and place-name, followed Nanticoke refugees as they drifted across the Eastern Shore between 1744 and 1850.

When researching the subject, I missed at least one fact, which I just noticed yesterday. It might not be all that important, but every little bit of information helps.

Scharf’s History of Delaware features a list of taxables in Dagsborough Hundred in 1785. This list proves that a James Sockam and a Widow Sockam (meaning the widow of a deceased Sockam) were living in the hundred at that time, which included the area later known as Gumborough Hundred. Interestingly, there was a James Sockam living in Nanticoke Hundred, Somerset County (probably in what would become Little Creek Hundred, Sussex County, following the resolution of the boundary dispute) in the 1750s. There was also a James Sockum living in Sussex County in the early 1800s. Without more information, it’s impossible to know how many Jameses we’re dealing with, but it seems likely that there were at least two or three generations of men named James Sockum (or Sockam, Soccom, etc.).

It should be remembered that just as there were Nanticoke reservations along Chicacoan Creek and Broad Creek, there was a thousand-acre “Indian River Indian” reservation located near a tributary of Indian River known today as Irons Branch. Injun Town Road, located in Dagsboro Hundred, south of Millsboro, seems to trace the southern boundary of this tract. The Indian River Indians sold sections of the reservation in the 1730s and early 1740s, with the final tract being sold in late 1743. Presumably some of them migrated north with the Nanticokes, and presumably some of them stayed in the area, eventually moving to the north shore of Indian River. It’s possible that the James Sockam of 1785 was living with or near descendants of the Indian River Indians in the neighborhood of their old reservation.

The Indian River Indian reservation, known as Askeckeky or Acksquessance, was located south of present-day Millsboro.

The Indian River Indian reservation, known as Askeckeky or Acksquessance, was located south of present-day Millsboro.

– Chris Slavens

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A Map in Progress

Recently I decided to create a series of maps depicting the Broad Creek area during the colonial era. Many of the local place names have changed since then, making it difficult to describe where anything was.  It’s all well and good to explain that Gray’s Branch used to be known as Sockum Creek, and Wimbesoccom Creek before that, but it would be helpful to be able to point to Wimbesoccom Creek on a map. Maybe there is such a map, but I haven’t found it, so I’m in the process of creating it.

The following map is part of a digital tracing of an old map of the peninsula, plus several place names dating back to the early 1700s — say, between 1705 and 1735. (Most of the names date back to the 17th century, but some of the English creek names only date back to the 1720s and 1730s.) Eventually I’d like to create a map based on a modern map or satellite imagery, but this is a good first step. The text should be clear when viewed at full size.

Delmarva Early 18th Century

The locations of the Indian villages are approximate. There were many others, of course, some of which are well-documented and can be added to future drafts, and some of which are shrouded in mystery. For example, it was once reported that there were ten Nanticoke villages, but John Smith only visited four or five of them (Nause, Arseek, Sarapinagh, Nantaquack, and/or Kuskarawaok, which might have been another name for Sarapinagh), and colonial records only name Chicacoan Town and Broad Creek Town.

Somerset County, Early 18th Century

The location of Broad Creek Town is based on atrocious photocopies of old land records in a folder at the Laurel Public Library, which hint at, rather than show, the location of the reservation created in 1711. Most, but not all, of the Nanticokes’ land was on the north side of the creek. It should be noted that there is at least one reference to “Broad Creek towns,” plural, but all of the other colonial documents I’ve studied refer to only one town or village. Rossakatum Branch, located east of Little Creek, doesn’t appear on this map.

I’m unsure about the identity of Bald Cypress Branch, which was described as a branch of Broad Creek. (Not to be confused with the Bald Cypress Branch that flows through Gumboro and into the Pocomoke River.) If it wasn’t another name for Raccoon Branch, the source of Raccoon and Trap Ponds, then it might have been the next branch to the west, later known as Tresham or Trussum Branch. Bald cypress trees can still be found on both branches.

The map I traced to create the base layer of waterways didn’t show Chicacone (or Chicacoan, as it was usually spelled) Creek, so I drew a squiggle in that area and placed Chicacoan Town next to it.

The location of Askeckeky, also known as Askecksy, Ackequesame, Askakeson, etc., roughly corresponds with the location of the modern road named Injun Town Road or Indian Town Road. Now a back road, this road was once one of the main routes to Millsborough, and perhaps an Indian trail during the colonial era.

– Chris Slavens

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