The Will of Edwin Pearson Starr, 1795-1856

I’ve talked about an Edwin Pearson Starr before, but if you are just beginning your research, he’s not the one I’m talking about today. 

Confusing, yes? Perhaps we can sort it out here. 

When I first wrote about an Edwin Pearson Starr, I was referring to a first cousin of Sugar’s great-grandfather William Starr Basinger. This E. P. Starr served with W. S. Basinger in the Savannah Volunteer Guards, and he was also wounded during the battle at Sailor’s Creek during the Civil War. I did a blog series of the information that Sugar and I gathered from the W. S. Basinger file at the Wilson Library at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in 2013. There are handwritten letters, a few by E. P. Starr after he was wounded and in the hospital. 

Today’s blog post centers around a different Edwin Pearson Starr whom I will call the Elder, and he’s the uncle of E. P. Starr, the soldier.  E. P. Starr the Elder had a brother named Charles Henry Starr who named his son in honor of the Elder. E. P. Starr the Elder had sons, and I don’t know why he didn’t name one after himself. 

People! This makes it hard for others to follow!  Especially 150 years later!  

But I suppose they weren’t thinking about us, now, were they?

Just to add to the mix, E. P. Starr the Elder also had other siblings. There’s Jane Susan Starr Basinger – she’s William Starr Basinger’s mother and had a family Bible that I published on the blog. There’s also Adeline R. Starr, unmarried but with enough worth to write a last will and testament. (It’s already on the blog a few posts back. I’m working on transcribing it, but it’s taking a while because she is very specific as to her wishes, and is quite wordy. Plus I get sidetracked.) 

Here’s the typewritten copy of Edwin Pearson Starr the Elder. SO MUCH easier to read than the old hand writing. 

Sidenote (perhaps I’ll start saying “sidetrack” instead of “sidenote”): the Elder names a son Willington. Sugar and I had seen that name in other records so we thought that someone was mis-transcribing Willingham, because our brain tries to  compartmentalize things we don’t recognize. It’s like a fork that is an odd size and doesn’t fit into the silverware fork-y slot. And you puzzle over where to put it, and why doesn’t it fit, and you cram it in somewhere, because you might need it later until it bugs you so much that, whatthefork!, you throw the damn thing out. This will mentions a dear friend A. S. Willington, the editor of the Charleston newspaper “The Courier”. Now where’s that fork? I have a place for it. 

Maybe that’s just me talking. 

These pages come from’s new collection of wills and probate records. I think perhaps before I print them off, I’ll crop them and get rid off some of the dead space. (See what I did there? I made a pun. There might be a special afterlife compartment for forks like me.)


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