Our Head Family: Tied to valleys' heads, mills' hum, and rivers' flow

 Our ancestors primarily resided in rural villages and hamlets in Wiltshire and Hampshire, England, during the 17th and 18th centuries. These areas were characterized by agricultural economies, with rivers like the Avon, Wylye, and Test supporting farming, wool production, and small-scale industries. The family appears to have moved southward over generations, from the Woodford Valley in Wiltshire toward the New Forest and Southampton area in Hampshire. Below is a breakdown by generation, focusing on the key locations and their historical context during the relevant periods (based on birth, death, and marriage records you provided). I've noted approximate time frames for each generation's residency.

• GEN 1: George Hedd/Head (b. bef. 1610, d. ~1650) and Anne Peake (b. ~1615, d. ~1651)  
• Woodford, Wiltshire (early 17th century): George was born here, a civil parish on the west bank of the River Avon, about 4 miles north of Salisbury. In the 17th century, it was a small agricultural community divided into Lower, Middle, and Upper Woodford, with manors and farms. The area featured medieval and early modern buildings, including the 17th-century Manor House at Lower Woodford. It was part of the Woodford Valley, known for its fertile land and proximity to Salisbury's markets.   
• Great Wishford, Wiltshire (early-mid 17th century): Anne was born here, about 3 miles north of Wilton in the Wylye Valley. In the 17th century, it was a pre-Norman hamlet with ties to nearby estates, including rights to gather wood from Grovely Forest (a custom dating back centuries). The village had 17th-century almshouses and schools, reflecting a stable rural community focused on farming and woodland resources. 
• GEN 2: John Head (b. ~1640, d. 1707) and Edith Willis (b. 1631, d. 1696)  
• Woodford, Wiltshire (mid-17th century): John was born here, continuing the family's presence in this Avon-side parish during a time of post-Civil War recovery, with agriculture dominating.  
• Corton, Wiltshire (late 17th century): John died here, a small hamlet in Boyton parish on the River Wylye, about 10 miles west of Salisbury. In the 17th century, it was tied to local manors with a focus on wool and cloth production; Cortington Manor was built in the late 1600s.   
• Codford, Wiltshire (mid-17th century): Edith was born here, a parish south of the Wylye Valley with villages like Codford St. Peter and St. Mary. The 17th century saw it as part of Wiltshire's woollen industry hub, with fulling mills and weavers common. 
• GEN 3: Christopher Head (b. ~1666, d. 1744) and Martha Bearden (b. ~1670, d. 1729)  
• Great Wishford, Wiltshire (late 17th to mid-18th century): Both lived and died here, during a period of village growth with 18th-century schools and houses like Wishford House. The Wylye Valley supported mixed farming and community traditions, such as Oak Apple Day wood-gathering. 
• GEN 4: John Head (b. ~1692, d. 1739) and Sarah Beacham (b. ~1690, d. 1721)  
• Great Wishford, Wiltshire (late 17th to early 18th century): John was born here, linking back to prior generations.  
• Broughton, Hampshire (early-mid 18th century): Both died here, a village near the River Test, about 8 miles west of Winchester. In the 18th century, it was Saxon-rooted with enclosures and farming; the landscape included valleys and streams ideal for agriculture.   
• West Tytherley, Hampshire (early 18th century): Sarah was born here (noted as West Tyerley), a village near the Wiltshire border with manors and mills from Domesday times. The 18th century saw conservation of its diverse buildings and rural economy. 
• GEN 5: Thomas Head (b. 1715, d. 1798) and Mary Cook (b. ~1717, d. 1797)  
• Broughton, Hampshire (early 18th century): Thomas was born here.  
• Millbrook, Hampshire (late 18th century): Thomas died here, a parish near Southampton with manors held by the Mill (later Barker-Mill) family. In the 18th century, it was rural with streams and growing ties to Southampton's trade.   
• Eling, Hampshire (mid-18th century): Mary was born here, on Southampton Water with a long history as a royal manor.   
• Southampton, Hampshire (late 18th century): Mary died here, a bustling port town in the 18th century with shipbuilding and trade, though our family likely lived on its rural fringes.
• GEN 6: Thomas Head (b. ~1739, d. 1813) and Sarah Whitehorn (b. ~1748, d. 1807)  
• Eling, Hampshire (mid-18th century): Thomas was born here.  
• Millbrook, Hampshire (late 18th to early 19th century): Both died here, during a time of expansion due to proximity to Southampton.  
• Minstead, Hampshire (mid-18th century): Sarah was born here, in the New Forest with manors enlarged in the 18th century, known for woodlands and estates. 

These locations were predominantly rural, with economies based on farming, wool, and river-based activities. The shift from Wiltshire to Hampshire may reflect marriage ties or economic opportunities in the south.

Mills in the Areas Inhabited

Our speculation about mills aligns well with the geography—many of these places were on rivers or streams, where watermills were common for grinding corn, fulling cloth (cleaning and thickening wool), papermaking, or sawing timber. Wiltshire's Wylye and Avon valleys, and Hampshire's Test and Southampton Water areas, had thriving mill industries in the 17th-18th centuries. While no direct records tie our ancestors to milling occupations, the surname "Head" (from Old English "heafod," meaning a topographic feature like the head of a valley or stream) could suggest proximity to such sites, as mills often required headwaters or elevated streams for power.  Below are key mills and details from the areas:

• Woodford, Wiltshire: Middle Woodford Mill, a water-powered corn mill on the Avon, operated from the 16th century and rebuilt in the 18th. The Upjohn family were millers here for over a century from 1538. It featured flint and chalk chequerwork, typical of local architecture. 
• Great Wishford, Wiltshire: No specific mill named, but the Wylye Valley had numerous watermills for corn and fulling, supporting the 17th-18th century wool trade. Nearby Barford had shared mill rights with Wishford. 
• Corton, Wiltshire: Part of Wiltshire's textile belt; 17th-18th century fulling mills were common along the Wylye for processing wool from local sheep. The area had horned sheep breeds suited for coarse cloth. 
• Codford, Wiltshire: Several fulling mills on the Wylye; 16th-18th century probate records show clothiers and weavers. The woollen industry thrived here, with mills for dyeing and fulling. 
• Broughton, Hampshire: Broughton Mill (corn mill) in Mill Lane, with 18th-19th century chequerwork brick and weatherboarding. It was a water grist mill, sold in historical records, tied to local wool fulling until the early 19th century. 
• West Tytherley, Hampshire: Domesday mills likely at sites like Holbury Mill and Ford Mill (near East Tytherley). 18th century mills powered by local streams for corn and possibly textiles. 
• Eling, Hampshire: Eling Tide Mill, one of the UK's last operating tide mills, recorded in Domesday and rebuilt 1740-1785. It ground flour using tidal power from Southampton Water, owned by manor lords (including kings). A key 18th-century feature, it included a maltings and was lucrative during the period. 
• Millbrook, Hampshire: Named after its brook (Tanner's Brook), which powered mills from the 16th century. Held by the Mill/Barker-Mill family; 18th-century paper and corn mills were common in Hampshire, with streams harnessed for industry. 
• Minstead, Hampshire: No named mill, but New Forest streams supported watermills for corn and timber. Hampshire had over 200 mills by 1900, many dating to the 18th century. 

These mills were vital to local economies, often family-run. Our family's proximity suggests possible involvement in milling, farming near mills, or related trades like weaving.

Narrative About the Head Family

In the rolling chalk hills of southern England, where rivers carve through valleys like veins of silver, the Head family traced their roots back to the early 17th century. Their surname, evoking the "head" of a stream or valley, seemed almost prophetic, for their lives unfolded along waterways that powered the mills of Wiltshire and Hampshire. George Hedd, born before 1610 in Woodford's verdant Avon banks, might have gazed upon Middle Woodford Mill's turning wheel as a boy, its flint-and-chalk structure grinding corn for the village. He wed Anne Peake from nearby Great Wishford, a place of ancient oak-gathering rites in Grovely Forest, where the Wylye whispered secrets of endurance. Together, they navigated the turbulent 1600s—plagues, civil wars—raising their son John amid Woodford's orchards and farms, until George's passing around 1650 and Anne's a year later left echoes in the valley.

John Head, born around 1640, carried the family forward, marrying Edith Willis from Codford, where fulling mills thrummed along the Wylye, thickening wool into cloth that warmed England's hearths. They settled in Corton, a quiet hamlet with its late-17th-century manor, where sheep grazed the downs and millstreams sang. By 1707, John's life ended there, but not before siring Christopher, who returned to Great Wishford around 1666. Christopher Head and his wife Martha Bearden lived through the village's 18th-century bloom, with almshouses rising and schools teaching the next generation. Wishford House loomed grandly, a symbol of stability, as they tended fields and perhaps traded at nearby markets, until Martha's death in 1729 and Christopher's in 1744.

Their son John Head, christened in 1692, bridged counties by marrying Sarah Beacham from West Tytherley in Hampshire. They moved to Broughton, where the Test River fed mills like the chequer-bricked Broughton Mill, grinding grist for bread amid enclosures that reshaped the land. Sarah passed in 1721, John in 1739, but their legacy flowed southward through son Thomas Head, born in Broughton in 1715. Thomas wed Mary Cook from Eling, home to the remarkable Tide Mill, its wheels turned by Southampton Water's rhythms since Domesday—rebuilt in the 1740s-80s, it symbolized innovation amid rural life. They raised family in Eling's salty air, eventually settling in Millbrook, where streams named the place itself, powering paper and corn mills under the Barker-Mill estate. Thomas outlived Mary by a year, dying in 1798 as the century closed.

Finally, their son Thomas Head, born in Eling in 1739, married Sarah Whitehorn from Minstead's forested depths, where New Forest ponies roamed and manors expanded in Georgian splendor. They returned to Millbrook, perhaps drawn by its brook-fed industries, living through Napoleonic threats and bread shortages. Sarah died in 1807, Thomas in 1813, ending this chapter. Through generations, the Heads embodied the quiet resilience of England's countryside—tied to valleys' heads, mills' hum, and rivers' flow, their story a thread in the tapestry of history.

Thank you to Grok xAI for the enhanced details and editing -- Drifting Cowboy.

1917, Retirement from the Royal Gun and Carriage Factory

Stephen John & Susannah (Avery) Head c. 1910

The inscription on Stephen John Head's retirement watch from November 1917, referencing the "RG&CF" or Royal Gun & Carriage Factory, accurately reflects the official nomenclature of the integrated department at Woolwich Arsenal by that time. The Royal Gun Factory and Royal Carriage Factory (where he served as assistant foreman) had amalgamated in 1907 under Colonel Capel Lofft Holden, forming a unified entity known as the Royal Gun & Carriage Factory (sometimes pluralized as "Factories" in records) to streamline production amid escalating military demands. This merger consolidated operations, with the carriage section—focused on gun mounts and wheeled assemblies—remaining a core function but operating under the combined banner. By World War I's height in 1917, when the Arsenal was a roaring colossus employing tens of thousands and churning out armaments for the Western Front, such inscriptions were standard for honoring retirees, symbolizing the department's collective identity rather than its pre-merger silos. The abbreviation "RG&CF" was a practical shorthand in official memorabilia, underscoring the era's emphasis on efficiency and imperial might.

Nov 1917 Kentish Independent news article

Note: Stephen had been forced into retirement following injuries sustained during a Zeppelin raid.

YouTube video... 

An American’s prospective of a Woolwich Arsenal Family

Carriage Factory at Woolwich Royal Arsenal

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SC6kBoWCEzk

The Royal Gun Factory at Woolwich Arsenal: Forging the Empire's Thunder

Amid the Thames' murky embrace in Woolwich, where coal smoke veiled the sky like a perpetual shroud and the river's ceaseless murmur blended with the thunderous roar of proof firings, the Royal Gun Factory stood as the ironclad core of Britain's martial prowess. This colossal forge, integral to the Royal Arsenal's vast complex of brick behemoths and shadowed quadrangles, birthed the artillery that echoed across imperial battlefields, from Waterloo's mud-churned fields to the trenches of the Somme. Spanning centuries of innovation and expansion, it transformed from a modest brass foundry into a mechanized titan, arming an empire that spanned a quarter of the globe. 

Origins and Establishment

The Factory's genesis traced to the late 17th century, when the Board of Ordnance acquired Tower Place in Old Woolwich in 1671, repurposing a Tudor mansion's grounds into an ordnance depot amid the site's proof-testing ranges, where cannon blasts shattered the Kentish calm. By 1696, the Royal Laboratory emerged for ammunition manufacture, but true gun production ignited in 1717 with the Royal Brass Foundry—erected after a catastrophic explosion at a private Moorfields facility compelled the Crown to centralize artillery crafting. Designed by Andrew Schalch, this squat, functional building with its high, airy interior facilitated vertical boring of brass cannons, overseen by a Master Founder. Gun manufacture formally commenced in 1720, evolving the site from a mere storage wharf (rooted in Henry VIII's 1515 dockyard) into England's premier armaments hub. Renamed the Royal Arsenal in 1805 by King George III during a royal visit, it integrated seamlessly with adjacent departments like the Royal Carriage Factory (formalized 1803) for mounting ordnance and the Royal Laboratory for shells and explosives. 

Expansions and Innovations

As Britain's imperial ambitions swelled, so did the Factory. A pivotal 1770 installation by Jan Verbruggen introduced a horse-powered horizontal boring machine, revolutionizing precision—replaced in 1843 by a steam-driven marvel that hissed and clanked like a mechanical beast. The Crimean War (1854–1856) catalyzed rebirth: renamed the Royal Gun Factory in 1855, it shifted to in-house iron cannon production, previously outsourced. A sprawling new complex arose in 1857, segmented into moulding shops where molten metal glowed like infernal rivers, casting pits, trimming bays, forges pounding iron with rhythmic fury, and boring mills whining through metal. The 1870s added a rolling mill, boiler house, and expanded forge, while tentative steel experiments began in the late 19th century, supplanting iron by the turn of the century. Innovations abounded—William George Armstrong's 1859 rifled gun patents, adopted under his superintendency (until 1863), birthed breech-loading wonders; Henry Maudslay's lathe refinements drew from Verbruggen's designs; and Frederick Abel's Chemical Laboratory (Building 20) pioneered guncotton and cordite explosives from the 1860s. Electricity illuminated the halls in the 1870s, with a dedicated power station in 1896, and amalgamation with the Royal Carriage Factory in 1907 formed the Royal Gun & Carriage Factory under Colonel Capel Lofft Holden, unifying production lines. 

Functions and Daily Operations

At its zenith, the Factory forged artillery's lethal symphony: bronze and iron cannons, mortars, howitzers, and later steel rifled guns for army and navy. Processes unfolded in a ballet of fire and steel—moulding sand-packed patterns for casts, pouring molten bronze or iron into pits amid showers of sparks, trimming excess with chisels and files, boring barrels to exacting tolerances, and rifling interiors for spin-stabilized accuracy. Integration with the Carriage Factory was intimate: completed guns rolled to mounting grounds for fitting onto wooden or iron carriages, then proof-tested in adjacent butts where muzzles belched flame and smoke, velocity gauged by pendulums or chronographs. Daily life pulsed with the clamor of 2,773 machines by 1857, powered by 68 steam engines, as artisans—blacksmiths hammering axles, founders tending crucibles, engineers calibrating lathes—labored in vast halls roofed by wrought-iron trusses. Materials arrived via the Ordnance Canal's barges or the 120-mile internal railway network, snaking through the "Secret City" of over 1,100 buildings. Convict gangs built infrastructure in the early 1800s, while military overseers like the Inspector of Artillery (from 1780) ensured quality. Operations scaled for wars, with danger buildings for high explosives isolated to mitigate blasts, and self-sufficiency via on-site power, gas works, and even a hospital. 

Key Periods

• 18th Century: Brass artillery dominance; Napoleonic Wars (1803–1815) spurred Congreve rocket production and engineering feats by Samuel Bentham, Marc Isambard Brunel, and Henry Maudslay.
• Mid-19th Century: Crimean era iron shift; Armstrong-Whitworth rivalry; Abel's explosives breakthroughs.
• Late 19th–Early 20th Century: Steel transition; Boer War (1899–1902) demands; 1907 amalgamation.
• World Wars: WWI peak (1914–1918)—80,000–100,000 workers on 1,285–1,300 acres, churning guns, shells, and tanks amid Zeppelin raids from 1915; WWII (1939–1945)—tank assembly (e.g., first Centurion Mk1 in 1945), ammunition for Allied forces, battered by Luftwaffe blitzes like September 7, 1940's 348-bomber onslaught.
• Post-WWII: Atomic bomb components (Project Hurricane, late 1940s); Korean War support; merged into Royal Ordnance Factory Woolwich (1957); manufacturing ceased 1967 amid decline.

Legacy

The Royal Gun Factory's thunder faded with the Empire's twilight, closing in 1967 as global conflicts waned and production decentralized to sites like Fort Halstead. The Arsenal's eastern remnants lingered for research until 1994, birthing the Armament Research and Development Establishment (ARDE). Redeveloped into Royal Arsenal Riverside—a vibrant mosaic of 3,000+ homes, cultural venues like Woolwich Works, and green spaces—the site's listed buildings (e.g., 1717 Brass Foundry, 1857 New Foundry) endure as echoes of industrial might. It influenced local lore, from Arsenal F.C.'s 1886 origins among workers to its role in arming a quarter of the world by 1922. Today, amid modern flats and Thames paths, the Factory's legacy resonates in preserved cranes, railways, and the faint metallic tang of history, a monument to the forges that shaped an era.

The Royal Carriage Factory at Woolwich Arsenal: A Hub of Imperial Might

Nestled within the sprawling expanse of the Royal Arsenal in Woolwich, where the Thames' murky waters lapped against iron-bound wharves and the acrid tang of gunpowder hung perpetually in the fog-shrouded air, the Royal Carriage Factory stood as a testament to Britain's martial ingenuity. This colossal complex, with its towering brick facades pierced by arched windows and crowned by a chiming clock turret that echoed like a sentinel's call across the yard, was the beating heart of gun carriage production—forging the wheeled foundations that propelled the Empire's artillery across battlefields from the Crimea to the colonies. 

Origins and Establishment

The factory's roots traced back to the late 17th century, when the Board of Ordnance acquired Tower Place in Old Woolwich in 1671, transforming a modest warren into a fortified depot. By 1682, the "Old Carriage Yard" sheltered gun carriages under cover, initially for storage and repairs amid the site's proof-testing grounds where cannon roars shattered the Kentish silence. Formalized as the Royal Carriage Department in 1803 under Colonel Edward Fage, the factory rose phoenix-like from the ashes of a devastating 1802 fire—likely arson—that gutted the earlier New Carriage Square. Built between 1803 and 1805 at a frenzied wartime pace, the new complex spanned 474 feet by 280 feet, a quadrangle of brick workshops encircling smitheries where twelve forges blazed like infernal hearths, flanked by anvils ringing with the ceaseless hammer blows of blacksmiths. Wheelwrights and carpenters labored in open colonnaded sheds, their tools carving oak and elm into precise forms under the watchful eyes of overseers, while convict gangs—shackled shadows in the gloom—dug canals and hauled timbers. 

Expansions and Innovations

As Napoleonic threats loomed, the factory burgeoned into a mechanized marvel. Steam power hissed to life in 1805 with Joseph Bramah's planing machine, its pistons thumping like a giant's heartbeat, revolutionizing wood shaping amid clouds of sawdust that danced in shafts of sunlight piercing the timber-clad roofs. A sawmill appended in 1811–1813, designed by Marc Isambard Brunel, featured cast-iron columns framing massive log-processing halls, fed by a two-branched canal where barges groaned under loads of seasoned oak from distant forests. The Crimean War (1854–1856) spurred further growth: avenues roofed over with wrought-iron trusses in 1856–1857, creating vast machine shops where steam hammers pounded iron fittings and riveting machines clattered in rhythmic fury. By the 1880s, erecting shops—tall, steel-framed behemoths with gantry cranes swinging overhead like mechanical eagles—assembled carriages for modern guns, extending eastward in 1895 with fitters' and tinmen's workshops. In 1907, amalgamation with the Royal Gun Factory birthed the Royal Gun & Carriage Factory under Colonel Capel Lofft Holden, peaking during World War I with 80,000 workers swarming the site like ants in a hive of iron and fire. 

Functions and Daily Operations

At its core, the factory crafted gun carriages—intricate assemblies of wood and metal that married mobility with lethal precision. Wheelwrights shaped ash felloes and elm naves into wheels that rolled unyieldingly over muddy fields, while carpenters hewed oak cheeks and beds with stepped faces to cradle cannon barrels, ensuring stability amid the recoil's thunderous kick. Blacksmiths forged iron tyres and axletrees in smitheries where bellows roared and sparks flew like fiery constellations, all inspected meticulously to withstand the strains of warfare. The department designed for both army and navy, storing finished pieces in dedicated sheds where rows of carriages loomed in shadowy ranks, ready for deployment. Innovations abounded: horizontal boring machines by Henry Maudslay influenced lathe designs, and convict labor in the early 1800s built infrastructure like the canal for timber delivery via the Arsenal's internal railway. By the mid-19th century, metal supplanted wood, with steam-driven processes saving fortunes in labor and enabling mass production for imperial campaigns. 

Key Periods and Legacy

In peacetime lulls post-Waterloo (1815–1835), the workforce dwindled, but the Victorian era's colonial expansions revived it, with 2,773 machines humming by 1857. World War I transformed it into a wartime colossus, only to contract interwar amid economic woes. Blitz bombs scarred the site in 1940, and post-1945 demilitarization led to closure in 1967, the factory's echoes fading as production ceased. Today, reborn as The Armouries in a 2007–2010 redevelopment by Berkeley Homes, its surviving brick walls and clock turret enclose modern flats and amenities, a ghostly remnant of an era when Woolwich's forges armed an empire under the relentless chime of progress.

Special thanks to Grok xAI for additional research and editing.

From ancient New Forest across storm-tossed seas to Yankee shores

 

1887  View from Mary Magdalen Church Woolwich
(Church Hill) across the Thames towards Plumstead

A tale of our English Family Heritage…

In the ancient, whispering groves of Hampshire's New Forest, where gnarled oaks stretched skeletal branches toward leaden skies and the earthy musk of fallen leaves mingled with the sharp tang of wild ponies' breath in foggy dawns, Robert Whitehorn drew his first breath in 1716 amid Minstead's timeless enchantment. A forester bound to the Crown's capricious laws, he navigated shadowy glades alive with the rustle of deer and the crackle of underbrush underfoot, his axe biting into beechwood for charcoal pits that glowed like hidden forges in the night. He wed Ruth Hedges, a lass from the hamlet's clustered thatches, daughter of John and Thomsen, where hearth fires danced on whitewashed walls and the chime of All Saints' bells pierced the mist. Their 1740s–1770s unfolded in a tapestry of smuggling whispers through bracken-ferned paths, evading excisemen's lanterns as Georgian wars stripped the Forest for naval timbers, leaving scars like open wounds. Enclosures crept like shadows, sparking midnight riots where torches flared against the dark. Robert and Ruth's cottage hummed with the aroma of stewing venison and the soft thud of spinning wheels, their hands intertwined in labor until their fading around 1780–1781, spirits lingering in Minstead's eternal yews.

Their daughter Sarah Whitehorn, baptized in October 1748 under Minstead's canopy of flaming autumn foliage, where golden leaves swirled like confetti in crisp winds, ventured to Millbrook's tidal embrace, marrying Thomas Head in the 1760s. Thomas, offspring of another Thomas and Mary from Broughton's sun-dappled downs, carried the legacy of Eling's watermills, where the River Test's brackish murmur powered grinding stones amid sprays of flour dust glittering in sunlight. In Millbrook's verdant valleys, their life pulsed with the Solent's restless tides—oyster beds glistening like scattered pearls at low water, smugglers' skiffs slicing moonlit waves laden with French brandy casks. The American Revolution's thunder echoed across the channel, swelling shipyards with the acrid smoke of tar and the clamor of hammers, while press gangs prowled foggy taverns, snatching shadows into naval service. Sarah and Thomas toiled as mill hands or laborers, their thatched home alive with the sizzle of hearth-cooked herring and the laughter of bairns splashing in marshy pools, enduring floods that transformed lanes into silvered mirrors. Her passing in 1807 and his in 1813 etched final marks in Millbrook's churchyard, where sea winds whispered eternal elegies over weathered stones.

John Head, their son christened on a crystalline Christmas 1771 in Millbrook's frost-veiled morn, where icicles dangled like crystal daggers from eaves and chimney smoke curled like phantom serpents, matured amid the forge's rhythmic clang and the estuarine fog's clammy kiss. The Napoleonic specter summoned him to the Royal Artillery in 1795, marching in scarlet wool through Kent's undulating chalk hills, the boom of practice cannons shaking the earth like distant thunder, coastal batteries vigilant against phantom French sails on the horizon. He wed Sophia Maria Smith, born in January 1775 in Westminster's labyrinthine streets, where Thames fog swallowed the cries of fishmongers and the glow of link-boys' torches pierced the gloom, daughter of William and Mary. They anchored in Plumstead's burgeoning haze, the Royal Arsenal's infernal foundries spewing sparks and sulfurous plumes, the Thames' oily lap against wharves heavy with powder kegs. John's later years as an artisan unfolded in a brick terrace echoing with the clatter of horse-drawn carts and the shriek of early steam whistles, the 1830s–1840s scarred by cholera's ghostly pall and railway irons snaking like iron veins through the land. Sophia's departure in 1846 and John's in 1855 faded into Plumstead's industrial symphony, their essence forged in cannon fire and river mist.

Their son Stephen Head, emerging in July 1817 amid Plumstead's summer symphony of buzzing bees in cherry blossoms and the distant rumble of dockyard cranes, ascended to foreman at Woolwich's Royal Dockyard, where colossal hulls rose like behemoths from scaffolds, the air thick with the tang of pitch and the thunderous tattoo of riveters' hammers. Victorian grandeur enveloped his world—gas lamps casting golden halos on cobbled lanes, steam engines huffing like iron dragons, the Arsenal swelling for empire's ceaseless wars. He married Margaret Wilkie, born in March 1826 in St. John's, Newfoundland, where icy gales howled through narrow streets like banshees and the harbor's cod-scented bustle rang with fishermen's shouts, her father Thomas—a Master Armory Sergeant in the Royal Newfoundland Regiment—drilling troops on snow-crusted parades under auroral skies, her mother Jane Kent navigating the frozen wharves with baskets of salted fish. Margaret's youth brimmed with Atlantic tempests' roar and the crackle of driftwood fires warding off winter's bite, her transatlantic voyage bridging colonial outposts. In Plumstead's teeming quarters, Stephen and Margaret nurtured a family amid the scent of Newfoundland rum mingling with Kentish hops, his death in 1881 and hers in 1910 sealing an era of imperial echoes and familial warmth.

Stephen John Head, their progeny arriving in April 1853 under Plumstead's veil of spring rain pattering on slate roofs and orchard petals drifting like snow, inherited the Arsenal's metronomic pulse as assistant foreman in the Carriage Factory at the Royal Woolwich Arsenal, overseeing the meticulous assembly of gun carriages amid the thunderous symphony of lathes turning oak and iron, forging instruments of empire in an age of ironclads steaming through foggy straits and colonial banners fluttering in exotic winds. He wed Susannah Avery, born September 1848 on Boone Street in Lee's verdant enclave, daughter of coachman William and Ann, where the clip-clop of shod hooves on turnpikes blended with the jingle of harness bells and the polish of carriage varnish gleaming in stable lanterns. Their Plumstead abode thrummed with late-Victorian vitality—trams rattling like mechanical serpents, music halls erupting in bawdy choruses under gaslit chandeliers, the Great War's ominous drumbeat approaching like a gathering storm. Stephen's demise in 1918 amid influenza's fevered grip and Susannah's in 1921 by Brighton's pebble-strewn shores, where sea spray kissed the air with salt, transitioned to modernity's relentless march.

Their son Stephen William Head, born May 1889 in Plumstead's urban mosaic of sooty chimneys belching coal smoke and the electric hum of Edwardian innovation, felt the siren call of distant horizons. Amid automobiles puttering on macadam roads like mechanical steeds and biplanes droning overhead like giant birds, he married Annie Margaret McNeil, born November 1892 in Detroit's forge-hot clamor, her Scottish veins pulsing with transatlantic lore. In 1910, they joined England's migratory swell to America, embarking from Southampton's bustling quays on a steamer's salt-crusted decks, the Atlantic's gray swells heaving like a living beast, through Ellis Island's cavernous halls echoing with polyglot murmurs and inspectors' stern gazes. They chased the American Dream westward, settling in Santa Monica's sun-gilded paradise by the 1920s, where palm fronds swayed in balmy breezes like lazy fans and the Pacific's sapphire waves crashed in rhythmic applause. Stephen toiled in burgeoning industries until 1942, amid Hollywood's silver-screen glamour and wartime ration queues, while Annie persevered until 1964, her eyes reflecting the sunset's fiery palette—a luminous odyssey from Hampshire's enchanted forests to California's endless summer, stitched with the vivid hues of artillery thunder, dockyard sparks, and unyielding wanderlust across storm-tossed seas.

English Places in the Second Half of the 18th Century

The latter 1700s in England marked a time of agrarian revolution, early industrialization, and global conflicts like the American Revolutionary War and Napoleonic Wars' precursors. Rural Hampshire and Kent featured enclosures transforming common lands into private farms, while coastal areas buzzed with trade and naval activities. Newfoundland, as a British colony, thrived on cod fisheries amid harsh Atlantic conditions.

New Forest and Minstead, Hampshire, England: The New Forest, a vast ancient woodland and heathland designated as a royal hunting ground since William the Conqueror's era, sprawled across southwest Hampshire with dense oaks, beeches, and roaming deer, ponies, and pigs under strict forest laws enforced by verderers' courts. In the 1750s–1800s, it saw tensions between commoners' rights to graze livestock and Crown efforts to plant timber for naval ships amid wartime demands. Smuggling thrived in its shadowy glades, with locals evading excisemen under moonlit paths. Minstead, a quaint hamlet nestled within the Forest's heart, consisted of thatched cottages clustered around All Saints Church, its Norman tower rising amid yew trees. Population hovered around 500, with inhabitants like foresters, charcoal burners, and smallholders eking out livings from coppicing wood and pannage (pig foraging). The era brought enclosures nibbling at open lands, sparking riots, while the Forest's folklore of ghosts and highwaymen added a layer of mystique to daily life.

Millbrook, Hampshire, England: This small village on the River Test's tidal reaches, near Southampton Water, was a serene rural outpost with watermills grinding corn amid meadows and marshes. In the second half of the 18th century, it grew modestly as a satellite to bustling Southampton, with shipbuilding and oyster fisheries providing seasonal work. Stone and timber cottages lined narrow lanes, and the parish church of St. Nicholas served as a community hub for baptisms and burials. Population around 300–400 included farmers cultivating wheat and barley on chalky soils, while smuggling—brandy and tea from France—flourished due to proximity to the Solent. The American War disrupted trade, but naval press gangs roamed, conscripting men for ships like those at nearby Portsmouth. Life revolved around tidal rhythms, with floods occasionally inundating lowlands, and enclosures pushing tenants toward wage labor.

Plumstead, Kent, England: Perched on the Thames' south bank, east of Woolwich, Plumstead was a growing suburb transitioning from rural orchards and market gardens to industrial edges. In the 1750s–1800s, its chalk hills and marshes supported brickmaking and farming, with population swelling from about 1,000 to over 2,000 as London expanded. The Royal Arsenal at nearby Woolwich boomed with cannon foundries and powder mills, drawing laborers amid the din of forges and risk of explosions. Plumstead Common offered grazing and recreation, but enclosures sparked protests like the 1760s riots. Churches like St. Nicholas anchored community life, with records of artisans and soldiers' families. Proximity to the river fostered trade in fruit and vegetables to London markets, while the era's wars brought military presence, including artillery regiments quartered in barracks.

St. John's, Newfoundland, Canada: As Britain's oldest North American settlement, St. John's clung to rugged cliffs overlooking a sheltered harbor on Newfoundland's Avalon Peninsula. In the late 18th century, it was a vital cod fishing port, with wooden wharves bustling during summer fleets from England, Ireland, and Portugal. Population fluctuated seasonally around 3,000–5,000 permanent residents, swelling with transient fishermen. Narrow, hilly streets like Water Street lined with taverns and merchants' stores echoed with accents from Devon and Dorset. The 1775–1783 American Revolution saw privateer raids and fortifications like Fort William strengthened against threats. Harsh winters brought ice-locked harbors and scurvy risks, while the cod trade—salting and drying fish on flakes—dominated economy, enriched by rum and molasses from the West Indies. Governance under naval governors enforced order amid rowdy seafarers, with St. John's Church (later Cathedral) serving as a spiritual anchor.

Immigration from England to the USA in 1910

By 1910, immigration from England to the United States was part of a broader "new immigration" wave, though smaller than from southern and eastern Europe. Economic opportunities in America's industrial boom—steel mills, railroads, and factories—drew skilled workers, artisans, and farmers escaping Britain's rural depression and urban overcrowding. Many departed from ports like Southampton or Liverpool on steamships such as those of the White Star or Cunard lines, enduring 7–10 day Atlantic crossings in steerage or second class. Arrival often meant processing at Ellis Island, where health inspections and questionnaires weeded out the unfit; about 2% were rejected. In 1910 alone, around 20,000–30,000 English immigrants entered, settling in cities like New York, Chicago, or Detroit for manufacturing jobs, or heading west to farms in the Midwest or California. Chain migration via family networks was common, with remittances supporting those left behind. The era's progressive reforms, like the Dillingham Commission, began scrutinizing immigrants, but English arrivals faced less prejudice due to shared language and culture, often assimilating quickly into Anglo-American communities.

Our English Family Tree

GENERATION 1

Robert Whitehorn

BIRTH 1716 • Minstead, Hampshire, England

DEATH 1781 • Minstead, Hampshire, England,

5th great-grandfather

AND

Ruth Hedges (Hodges)

Birth Abt. 1720 • Minstead, Hampshire, England

Death Abt. 1780 • Minstead, Hampshire, England

5th great-grandmother

D/o John Hedges (Hodges) 1685–1766 & Thomsen Peckham (Peccam) 1685–1752

GENERATION 2

Sarah Whitehorn

Birth C. 15 OCT 1748 • Minstead, Hampshire, England

Death 03 MAY 1807 • Millbrook, Hampshire, England

4th great-grandmother

AND

Thomas Head

Birth C. 17 FEB 1739 • Eling, Hampshire, England

Death 6 JAN 1813 • Millbrook, Hampshire, England

4th great-grandfather

S/o Thomas Head (b. Broughton, Hampshire) 1715–1798 & Mary Cook 1717–1797

GENERATION 3

John Head (served in the Royal Artillery in 1795)

Birth BEF. 25 DEC 1771 • Millbrook, Hampshire, England

Death 3 JUN 1855 • Plumstead, Kent, England

3rd great-grandfather

AND

Sophia Maria Smith

Birth 8 JAN 1775 • Westminster, Middlesex, England

Death 18 JAN 1846 • Plumstead, Kent, England

3rd great-grandmother

D/o William Smith 1750–1836 & Mary Kedlington 1753–1819

GENERATION 4

Stephen Head (Foreman Royal Dockyard at Woolwich)

Birth 29 JUL 1817 • Plumstead, Kent, England

Death 28 DEC 1881 • Plumstead, Kent, England

2nd great-grandfather

AND

Margaret Wilkie

Birth 29 MAR 1826 • St John's, Newfoundland, Canada

Death 5 SEP 1910 • Plumstead, Kent, England

2nd great-grandmother

D/o Thomas Wilkie (Royal Newfoundland Regiment--Master Armory Sergeant in the Royal Artillery) 1784–1855 & Jane Kent (twin) 1785–

GENERATION 5

Stephen John Head (Foreman carriage factory of the Royal Woolwich Arsenal)

Birth 16 APR 1853 • Plumstead, Kent, England

Death 14 OCT 1918 • Plumstead, Kent, England

great-grandfather

AND

Susannah Avery

Birth 12 SEP 1848 • Boone St., Lee, Kent, England

Death 5 MAR 1921 • 8 Porhall Pl., Preston, Brighton, Sussex

great-grandmother

D/o William Avery (Coachman) 1819–1902 & Ann Leighton Austine 1817–1884

GENERATION 6

Stephen William Head, joiner & immigrant

Birth 20 MAY 1889 • Plumstead, Kent, England

Death 25 OCT 1942 • Santa Monica, Los Angeles Co., CA

paternal grandfather

AND

Annie Margaret McNeil

Birth 8 NOV 1892 • Detroit, Wayne, Michigan, United States

Death 31 DEC 1964 • Santa Monica, Los Angeles, California, USA

paternal grandmother