Uncovering Thomas J. Mahoney: The Long Road to My 3rd Great-Grandfather

For quite awhile now, my 3rd great-grandfather Thomas J. Mahoney was little more than a handful of vague facts on my family tree. He was an Irish immigrant who showed up in Connecticut by 1860, raised a large family, worked every job he could to keep them afloat, and died in Worcester in 1920. I knew the broad strokes, but not the story. Not the man.

And definitely not the names of the parents he left behind in Ireland ... unless they came with him to the United States back in the 1850s.

Like so many Irish lines, the Mahoneys were swallowed up in the great silence left by missing parish books, burned civil records, and the chaos of the mid-19th century. I've searched on and off trying to figure out where in Ireland Thomas was born, and who his parents were. The answers always felt one document out of reach, and might be one of those things I'll have to leave to a professional genealogist in Ireland.

All the same, I keep digging.

My nights for the past few weeks have been spent buried in newspaper archives, cross-checking every mention of a Mahoney in the Norwich and Worcester areas. I flipped through U.S. Census pages line by line, zooming in on faint handwriting. I combed through street listings, vital records, burial notices — anything that might help link one stubborn Mahoney to another.

And finally, the last couple days, things began to click.

Pinning Down the Dates, the Moves, the Man

Census data had always given me the rough outline.

• Born May 1842 in Ireland.
• In the U.S. by 1855 or 1859 — census reports conflict here.
• In Norwich, Connecticut by 1860, a teenage laborer just starting his life in America.

But today, thanks to finally finding his death certificate, that vague birth month finally became a real date: May 2, 1842.

The obituary has added even more color. It describes Thomas as one of the strongest men in Norwich during his younger years, working as a steamer driver who handled the horses for the Wauregan engine company during fires. This wasn’t just a man who lived through the 19th century. This was a man who ran toward burning buildings.

From Norwich, the family probably followed work wherever the mills needed labor.

• 1870 Census – Thomas and his wife Bridget O’Sullivan are in Norwich with their early children. Thomas is a laborer; Bridget is “keeping house.”
• 1880 Census – They’ve moved to Richmond, Rhode Island, where Thomas, and sons John and William, all work in a woolen mill.
• 1900 Census – The family is now in Worcester, living at 140 Cambridge Street. This is where things get confusing, because Thomas’s son — also named Thomas — is head of household, and his own son named Thomas. But everyone fits: my 2nd great-grandfather Thomas (1871–1958), his wife Nora, their three young children, and the older generation of Mahoney brothers all working woolen-mill jobs.
• 1910 Census – Thomas, now widowed, is living with his son William at 80 Temple Street.
• 1920 Census – He appears as a patient at the Worcester State Hospital, likely during the final decline of his long illness.

On August 27, 1920, he died at the home of his son Daniel at 212 Franklin Street. His obituary said simply: after a long illness. His death certificate listed arteriosclerosis with broncho-pneumonia as a contributing factor.

After all those years in Connecticut and Massachusetts, he made one final journey back to Norwich, where he was buried beside his wife, Bridget.

Bridget O’Sullivan: A Brief, Bright Thread

Bridget was born in Ireland in 1844, the daughter of Eugene O’Sullivan. Her mother’s name remains one of the lingering mysteries. She and Thomas married sometime before 1864, most likely in Connecticut. She died of pneumonia on March 24, 1900, just 56 years old.

Her funeral notice describes a woman deeply loved. Dozens of floral tributes: “Dear Mother,” “Mother,” “Mother.” Four sons carrying her casket. Her body returned to Norwich — the place where the Mahoney's American story began.

The Breakthrough: Finding Thomas’s Parents

Today, after cross-matching death records, burial entries, and likely family clusters, I was finally able to identify the parents of Thomas J. Mahoney: 

• Father: yet another Thomas Mahoney, born in Ireland
• Mother: (first name unknown) Leonard, born in Ireland

For a line whose origins had been a black hole for so long, even these two names are monumental. And the Leonard surname, which is strongly associated with County Cork, reinforces the growing theory that Cork is the homeland of this Mahoney branch.

No townland yet. No parish. But a county and two parental surnames are more than I had even this morning.

Genealogy is often described as solving a puzzle, but it rarely feels that neat. It’s more like pulling threads out of dust, hoping one leads somewhere. Today, finally, a thread did. Now I continue digging to see where this latest thread will lead.

I’m actively researching both sides of my family tree and writing full family histories so these stories aren’t lost to time. Much of my ancestry leads back to Ireland, where records become difficult to trace without the help of professional Irish genealogists. Any contributions go directly toward funding this research, obtaining hard-to-access records, and preserving our history for future generations.

If you’d like to support the project, you can contribute via Venmo at: @ShaunMoriarty. Thank you for helping make this work possible.

Murdered by witchcraft

The history of colonial New England and witchcraft is certainly not limited to the infamous Salem Witch Trials. It was an area of concern strong enough to be codified in a number of laws, based in large part in scripture. While those accused of engaging in the dark arts and consorting with the Devil could be put to death, witchcraft was blamed for the death of my 10th great-grandmother.

Roughly 30 years before the hysteria of Salem was the case of an unscrupulous couple in Saybrook, Connecticut.

Local legend apparently claimed a cave, known as Mill Rock, was inhabited by witches. "Coach drivers feared passing the cave at night, because witches might throw burning wood on the carriage roofs," according to a 2012 haunting article in The Shore Line Times. "When the drivers saw the Cedar Sentinel [one large tree in a clearing], they knew they were near the witches' cave and whipped their horses to speed on by while there was still daylight. Since the witches vanished during the day and also disappeared during the summer, none were ever caught."

Mill Rock in Saybrook, Connecticut.

Though apparently unrelated to Mill Rock, there were a couple of supposed witches caught in Saybrook. Nicholas and Margaret Jennings had come to Saybrook after having previously lived in Hartford and New Haven. Nicholas fought in the Pequot War, serving under Captain John Mason, who led a horrific raid on a Pequot fort near the Mystic River, a gruesome event that became known as the Mystic Massacre. According to Damned Connecticut, it was after the war that Nicholas first met Margaret, an indentured servant.

"The young couple were smitten and soon ran off together, but didn't get too far before being apprehended," Damned Connecticut affirms. "On March 3, 1643, Nicholas was found guilty of 'fornication' and publicly whipped; a month later Margaret stood trial and was found guilty of the same crime in addition to theft. She was flogged, and then ordered by the court to marry Nicholas."

Damned Connecticut continues to note "a modest trail of troubles" followed the newlyweds, including Nicholas being prosecuted for striking a neighbor's cow in 1647. Witchcraft Trials of Connecticut informs Nicholas was punished in some form for this act of violence against the cow, which belonged to a man named Ralph Keeler. Ultimately, they would settle in Saybrook and produce three children together.

In 1659, things took a much darker turn for the star-crossed couple. That summer, according to The Shore Line Times, Nicholas had been suspected of witchcraft, resulting in the General Court sending a Mr. Willis to the town to aid the mayor in investigating Jennings.

In 1661, a neighbor of the Jennings family was embroiled in a heated land dispute. The neighbor, George Wood, ultimately accused Margaret of being possessed by Satan. Considering their past and generally unsavory social standing, such a charge would be a damning one for Mrs. Jennings. The presumption of innocence was not exactly afforded to many alleged witches. Damned Connecticut adds that Wood also accused Martha Jennings, one of the three Jennings children, of being pregnant out of wedlock — though, according to The Shore Line Times, Martha was proven not to be pregnant whatsoever.

Additionally, the Jennings witchcraft apparently was to blame for multiple deaths in the community. One of those whose passing was attributed to their witchcraft was Marie Marvin, the wife of Reinold Marvin. I've not yet uncovered Marie's age at the time of her death in 1661, but she was presumably around 60-years-old at the time of her death as Reinold had been born in 1594. The mother of eight children, including my 9th great-grandfather Lt. Reinold Marvin, was one of two individuals specifically mentioned in an indictment against Nicholas Jennings.

According to Witch-Hunting in Seventeenth Century New England, by David D. Hall, the couple was brought to court as follows:

Nicholas Jennings thou art here indicted by the name of Nicholas Jennings of Saybrook for not having the fear of God before thine eyes, thou hast entertained familiarity with Satan, the great enemy of God and mankind, and by his help hast done works above the course of nature to the loss of the lives of several people and in particular the wife of Reinold Marvin with the child of Baalshassar de Wolfe with other sorceries for which according to the law of God and the established laws of this Commonwealth thou deservest to die.

There was a not guilty plea entered and the case was ultimately adjudicated in the fall of 1661, according to Damned Connecticut, after a jury of 10 men from neighboring colonies came back with what was essentially a hung jury.

"The major part of the jury found Nicholas guilty, but the rest only strongly suspected him, and as to Margaret, some found her guilty, and the others suspected her to be guilty," reads The Witchcraft Delusion in Colonial Connecticut (1647-1697). The Shore Line Times notes that while the jury did not convict Nicholas and Margaret, they were deemed unfit as parents and their three children were taken from them to be apprenticed to others.