In May 2024, my wife Joy and I traveled to England to search for and meet our ancestors, both living and deceased. My great-great grandfather Thomas Bullock was an early convert to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the Preston area of Manchester.
As I have reviewed my family history, I’ve always been intrigued by the name of a place called Waterfall, where Mary Hall, who was the mother of Thomas Bullock, was born in 1780. When we were in Leek, England I looked at the phone maps and Waterfall popped up about seven miles away. As we travelled the road got smaller and smaller as we got near our destination until it was just about as wide as our car. When the map indicated we had arrived, we saw a small gathering of old homes made of sandston.
We stopped thinking we might find some landmark to tell us if indeed this was Waterfall. Just at that moment a couple came walking down the side of the road and we rolled down the window and I asked them if this was the city of Waterfall. The lady laughed and said, “This isn’t a city; this is not a town; this is not a parish; not a borough; but yes, this is Waterfall. Why would you come to Waterfall?”
I replied that we were looking for the home and birthplace of my family. She asked whose home we were looking for. I responded, “I’m looking for the home of Mary Hall.”
I was shocked by her response – “The Green House right behind you is the home is Mary Hall, and her family still lives there.” The house wasn’t colored green, but the names of homes were their address.
I thought it was amazing that we would run into this couple just at the exact moment we pulled up to Waterfall. If they had been a minute sooner or later, we would have missed them.
The lady said, “Be sure to meet the Halls’ Uncle Charles; he’ll know your family history and their stories.” I thought that was quite an interesting statement.
There were several buildings in a farm area at the Green House. I knocked on the door that looked like the residence. When a woman came and I told her I was from America looking for the homes of relatives, and I was the third great-grandson of Mary Hall. She said that this was indeed Mary Hall’s house, and she was Mary’s third great-granddaughter.
When asked about the area she said the family had lived here for many generations, “But you will want to ask my uncle Charles about your family. He’ll know all about them.”
I asked how we would find Uncle Charles and she began to describe trees, and paths, and rocks to turn at. I said “Hold on, I’m lost. I have no idea where there are street signs.” She said there are none. I asked her to write the directions on a folder I had. Charles was in the neighboring community called Waterhouses, so we made our way there.
Directions from Mary Hall’s house to Charles Hall’s house
It was almost dusk when we pulled across a bridge just as wide as our car, obviously made for horse drawn carts and not modern cars. We found a nice-looking home. It was almost dusk when I cautiously knocked on the door thinking who’s going to welcome a total stranger at this time of night? A man answered and I asked him if he was Charles Hall. He indicated he was. I stated that we were probably related; I was a descendant of Mary Hall. He robustly said, “Well, of course, we are related. Come in. Have you had dinner?”
Charles began instantly telling us about our family history dating from the time of Mary Hall and before, and how his family and various others tied into the family. I was thrilled with his conversation. I pulled out my phone with the FamilySearch app showing Charles each person he mentioned and where they tied into the family. Of course, he knew the family tree by heart.
After speaking quite a while and just thrilling us with his stories about our family, wishing that I could write all these things down, but not being prepared, not knowing that I was going to have such a great experience, Charles left for a few moments and went upstairs in his house. When he came down, he had a very large photo album in his hand. I would estimate it was about two feet wide by two feet long by five inches thick. He began turning the pages and telling about each photo or portrait, the person in them, and experiences of their life. Some were paintings because they were from before cameras were available. He spoke as though he had lived these experiences with these people; he certainly knew who they were. They were alive to him even though they were born hundreds of years before.
I asked him how he got such a fabulous photo album. He explained that he just obtained that album that week from the family of someone who had died. The people in the area would bring photo albums to him when somebody in their family died, knowing that Charles would preserve the album and the stories that accompany it.
What a powerful thing that I met Charles Hall who is a part of my family and knows these stories and has these albums. He explained that if he were to bring down all the albums that he possessed it would take him about a week to empty his room full of these albums.
He knew Thomas Bullock’s story. He knew that Thomas had left the area to emigrate to America and he said Thomas was quite a scoundrel. Thomas was the bookkeeper of the Mixon Mines in the area. When the mines shut down, he said Thomas and the money from the mines disappeared and went to America with Joseph Smith. I was shocked at his statement but tried not to show it in my face. Then he began to chuckle and said he didn’t know if that’s true, but he told it to all the Mormons that came by. He said that he knew that Thomas had gone to Illinois and then later to Utah with Brigham Young.
The door opened and a woman walked in. We had passed her just after we had met the couple on the road and before we had reached Charles’ home. She was his wife. He said, “These are cousins from America.” She replied, “Of course they are.”
We were thrilled! Soon it was midnight. The area was dark, with no streetlights; no street signs and we had to call it quits for the night. Charles was kind and generous during our conversation.
They were great people with wonderful stories; it was a thrill to hear them. Certainly, the Lord answered my prayers that I would come to know the people in this area from whom I am descended.
– Steven Gough, consultant, Granite FamilySearch Center