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