Margaret Elizabeth Kern

🪦 Margaret Elizabeth Kern

1855 – 1919
A resilient matriarch, homemaker, brawler (on occasion), and the steadfast spine of the Beyl family tree.

📍 Early Life

According to death records and Find A Grave, Margaret Elizabeth Kern was born in November 1855 in Indiana. While her parents’ names remain elusive, census data tells us they were both born in Germany. It’s possible she was part of the wave of German-American families who settled throughout Indiana in the mid-1800s, bringing with them tight-knit traditions, Lutheran faith, and some truly stubborn gene lines.

💍 Marriage to Jacob Beyl

According to the 1900 census, Margaret married French-born railroad laborer Jacob Beyl in 1871. Their early years together were spent at 228 Jackson Street in Columbus, Bartholomew County, Indiana—a home that would remain the backdrop for much of their family’s story.

👩‍👧‍👦 Raising a Family

By 1880, Margaret (then going by Elizabeth) was the mother of two young children: William, age 4, and Mary, just 9 months. Her household was bustling, but not without hardship. Jacob was listed as “maimed, crippled, bedridden, or otherwise disabled” in that year’s census—an ominous but unclear note.

Margaret eventually gave birth to seven children, though only five survived to adulthood:

By 1900, the household had grown to include a granddaughter, Hellen M., just 11 months old, likely the child of either Mary or Lillian. Life on Jackson Street remained tight, both in terms of quarters and kinship.

🥊 Legal Trouble in 1901

Margaret was no passive matron. In 1901, she found herself the subject of a legal notice for hurling “some colorful words” and allegedly assaulting one Pearl McCain. It seems Margaret wasn’t afraid to throw hands—or at least provoke a scene when the moment called for it.

🐔 Work & Widowhood

Margaret and Jacob lived at 542 Jackson Street, according to the 1907 U.S. City Directories, 1822-1995. Jacob was a Carpenter at the time.

By the time the 1910 Census was taken, the family had moved up Jackson Street to No. 542. Jacob had retired, and Margaret was working as a “Chesser” at a poultry house—likely preparing or grading chickens. Her household included sons Jacob Jr., Edward, and Grover, all working labor jobs. Despite hardship and loss (three of her children had passed by this point), she continued to hold her family together.

After Jacob’s death sometime before 1915, Margaret remained at 542 Jackson Street with her sons, still working, still raising, still anchoring.

In 1917, Margaret still lived at 542 Jackson Street, per the U.S. City Directories, 1822-1995. She was a widow. Her son, Jacob Jr, still lived with her.

🕯️ Final Days & Burial

Margaret passed away at 12:45 pm on April 11, 1919, of chronic myocarditis, with kidney disease complicating her condition. She was 63 years old.

She was buried beside her husband Jacob in Garland Brook Cemetery, Section 15.

🧬 Legacy

Margaret’s legacy runs deep through the branches of the Beyl family. From her came carpenters, laborers, dreamers, and at least one family line bold enough to brawl in broad daylight. Her story may be partially shrouded in mystery—especially regarding her own parents—but her strength and spark echo loudly through the generations.

This page will be updated as more is uncovered. To share memories, stories, or stray hints about Margaret’s elusive roots, please leave your comments on her Introduction Page. That’s where the conversation lives—come help us flesh out the woman behind the census lines.

Talk soon,

~Kris

🕯️ Revisited by Bones

Something about Margaret Elizabeth Kern lingers in the air, like the scent of coal smoke clinging to a well-worn apron. She was the kind of woman who kept the house warm, the children fed, and the neighbors guessing. You don’t survive seven births, raise five children to adulthood, and work in a poultry house well into your fifties without an iron spine and a sharp tongue—and according to the local papers, Margaret had both.

She was a homemaker, yes, but not the quiet kind. The kind who’d stand her ground—on Jackson Street or in court if need be. Her census entries and city directory listings are stitched with loss and survival, with empty lines where children’s names should’ve been and occupations no widow should have had to shoulder alone.

And yet… she endured.

What we don’t know still tugs at me: Who were her parents? What kind of childhood did she have that made her a woman who didn’t just bend under pressure—but held the line?

Sometimes, history doesn’t hand us a tidy ending. Sometimes it gives us a woman like Margaret—half-sewn, half-lost, entirely unforgettable.

Until we find her roots, we’ll keep tending the branches.

—Bones

Keeper of the Unspoken & Advocate for the Women Who Refused to Vanish Quietly