During the course of researching the Cabell family, I became curious about a relative on my pedigree chart named Charles Ellet, Jr. But the curiosity rose to full bloom when a childhood friend, Joan Poland, from my native home of Alexandria, Virginia mailed me clues about him in a book. Joan has been a DAR member all of her adult life, and she wanted me to read about one of DAR’s organizing members, Mary Virginia Ellet Cabell.

"Turn to page 45," Joan wrote. "This lady must be related to you." The book was A Century of Service: The Story of the DAR.

I read that Mary Virginia Ellet married William Daniel Cabell after the Civil War and the couple operated a school for boys at their "ruined" ancestral estate at Norwood, Virginia. Later, when the Cabells moved to Washington, D.C., Mrs. Cabell opened the Norwood Institute, a school for her daughters and other young ladies. She was frequently spotlighted by the community as her students excelled under her tutelage. The district society clamored to meet the daughter of Charles Ellet, Jr., commander of the victorious federal steam ram fleet at the Battle of Memphis on 6 June 1862. In 1890, Mrs. Cabell was invited to the DAR organizational meeting.

As children, my friend Joan and I went to summer camp at Norwood, Virginia, but neither of us had any idea of the estate’s history; my brother’s given name is Charles Ellet, but we had no clue as to the origin of his name other than "he may have been a Yankee." I didn’t even know what a "steam ram fleet" was, but I took my sparse but tantalizing clues across the Mississippi River to the genealogy department at the Memphis Public Library, determined to uncover this ancestral story.

By then, the library genealogist, Charles, knew me well. When I asked about the Memphis battle, he pulled Dr. John E. Harkins’ Metropolis of the American Nile from the shelf and said, "Ellet commanded the steam ram fleet and was the only Union soldier who died as a result of the conflict."

I was astounded. I had lived my entire adult life ten miles from where the famous Civil War sea battle had occurred—ten miles from where my great-great-grandfather received his mortal wound.

To access other books in which his name might appear, I typed the Ellet name into a library computer book search and found the book Charles Ellet, Jr.: The Engineer As Individualist 1810-1862 by Gene D. Lewis. Although the book was out of print, the library had a copy in the stacks, so I checked it out. Lewis was an associate professor of history at the University of Cincinnati when he wrote this work. His research through primary sources was detailed and precise, to stay the least.

Lewis wrote, "Ellet was recognized . . . by both friend and opponent as a true genius. He had an inordinate amount of imagination, originality, and creativity. Even so, Ellet, unlike most other great men, received more recognition in his own time than in the twentieth century. He deserves a better fate."

I found it distressing to read further that "there are no direct descendants of Charles Ellet, Jr., living." The editor did add a footnote stating that there "was a boy named Charles Ellet Cabell"—my grandfather.

I wrote Dr. Lewis, then the head of the history department at the University of Cincinnati, and told him how pleased I was to have found his book. I also shared my new-found knowledge about my paternal grandfather’s service in the Spanish-American War. After he returned to Virginia, my grandfather had married my grandmother in Berryville, and they had reared three children. My father was the youngest. I sent him a copy of my pedigree chart and birth certificate—proof enough that there was at least one living descendent.

Dr. Lewis graciously sent me two copies of his book. I sent one to my brother who lives in Italy, and gave the other to our local community college.

Meanwhile, I wrote to Robin D. Wear at the Alderman Library, Special Collections, at the University of Virginia where the Cabell-Ellet Papers are housed. Ms. Wear had been very helpful when I had done Cabell family research in the past, and once more her assistance was invaluable. Ellet data at the library related to his wife’s family in Lynchburg—his mother’s memoirs written in Philadelphia; his daughter Mary Virginia’s diary written during the Crimean War when they were in Europe; Ellet’s personal letters dated the day of the Memphis battle; and extensive works about his civil engineering career.

In time his story began to unfold. Charles Ellet, Jr., was a mid-nineteenth century American civil engineer during our nation’s infancy—when bridges, canals, and railroads were designed and built by trial and error. Ellet attended lectures exclusively for engineers at the Ecole des Ponts et Chausses in Paris, France in 1830—an amazing feat since he was largely self-educated. He eventually built America’s first major wire suspension bridges at Philadelphia, Niagara, and Wheeling. He built canals and railroads across the state of Virginia, and he submitted to Congress the first comprehensive plan of controlling inundation of the Mississippi River by the use of reservoirs. His career spanned thirty years prior to the Civil War. Ellet was fifty-two years old when Secretary of War Edwin M. Stanton commissioned him a colonel to command a steam ram fleet of his design.

My next question: "Why is his name not more readily recognized?"

In 1976, Fredrick J. Dobney, St. Louis Corps of Engineers, wrote, "Ellet was obviously far ahead of his time—too far ahead, it turned out, to be taken seriously."

I wondered what opinion the Memphis Corps of Engineers had about Ellet. The district historian was on assignment that year, so I directed my questions to the leading Corps historian in Alexandria, Virginia. I had a delightful conversation with Martin Reuss, who praised Ellet as a canal, rail, and bridge builder, but disagreed with some of his reservoir theories. He added that there were those in West Virginia who held Ellet in high esteem. Little did I know at the time that I would meet some of those people in the not-too-distant future.

As I grew more comfortable searching the Internet on my home computer, putting the Ellet name in a random search became commonplace. My next discovery came from the Department of Special Collections, Stanford University Libraries: The Ellet Family Papers, 1839-1968. This was a collection of two linear feet of Civil War papers received by Stanford as a gift from Elizabeth Ellet Nitz and Frances Ellet Ward in 1994.

I began an e-mail correspondence with Max Steinberg, who was extremely helpful. There was a five percent copy limitation on that collection, so I described my specific interests and he determined what documents would be most beneficial.

I now have copies of Ellet letters written during the last year of his life, including correspondence between him, his mother, wife, oldest son, and youngest brother Alfred, who was his second in command at the Battle of Memphis.

This find also netted a whole new family of cousins. Mrs. Nitz and Mrs. Ward are twin sisters and great-granddaughters of Alfred Ellet. I wanted to correspond with them, but I knew as a rule of etiquette and for security reasons that Mr. Steinberg was not allowed to give out their home addresses. I asked him if he would be willing to forward a letter to them, and he graciously complied. Within a few months I heard from Frances Ward, and we now correspond regularly.

My heart went out to Mr. Ellet. What could I do to promote recognition for this pioneering engineer? I began to think in terms of commemorative years of what he built.

Another search on the Internet brought up an upcoming event to celebrate the 150th Anniversary of the Wheeling Suspension Bridge. On the Wheeling Web page, the history of the bridge credited Charles Ellet, Jr., as the original designer and builder of the bridge in 1849. I was ecstatic. But I learned that the engineers of the renovation also believed that Ellet had no living descendants.

There was great detail about the festivities scheduled for the "birthday bash" weekend, slated for November 6 and 7. A $6 million renovation was in progress by the American Bridge Company and the A.G. Lichtenstein and Associates, Inc., Engineers. As a DAR member, I wondered if our organization had a plaque for Ellet at the site.

A network of correspondence led me to Wheeling Chapter DAR member Ellen Dunable. She determined that there was a Wheeling Suspension Bridge state plaque, which stated that Ellet was the builder, but that there was no DAR plaque or any other kind specifically memorializing Mr. Ellet.

She was intrigued with my correspondence. For the next several months Ellen, another new Wheeling friend, Margaret Brennan, and I corresponded by e-mail and snail mail. I sent them copies of my pedigree chart and birth certificate.

Engineer Geoffrey Goldberg sent me an original piece of wire from the bridge. Principal engineer David Moskowitz wrote that Ellet had been his "hero" since he was a boy. Local historian Beverly Fluty and Emory L. Kemp, director of the Institute for the History of Technology and Industrial Archaeology at West Virginia University, wrote a book entitled The Wheeling Suspension Bridge: A Pictorial Heritage with a feature page about Charles Ellet, Jr. I had found Mr. Reuss’ "Ellet fans."

The Wheeling chapter undertook the plaque project. Mrs. Dunable went to work preparing the dossier for DAR approval. Her goal was to have the plaque in place by November 6.

My husband and I were in Wheeling for the celebration weekend. During the plaque-dedication ceremony, Mrs. Dunable expressed her appreciation to all participants, especially local bricklayers, Bradley Milton and Ronald Scott, who installed the plaque on the western abutment of the bridge the evening before the dedication. I shared family history during the ceremony, and Historian General Katherine Hepburn addressed the crowd.

The wording of the plaque, determined by the Office of the Historian General DAR in Washington, D.C., is a lasting tribute to the life of Mr. Ellet. It concludes with recognition to his daughter, Mary Virginia, and her vital DAR role.

It has never been enough for me to just learn names and dates for a pedigree chart. From the day Joan Poland sent me the DAR centennial book, I launched an investigation that took me from a blank page in history to a grand moment in Wheeling, West Virginia. And for those who have revered the engineer for many years, they now realize that there is a living Ellet line, and we cherish sharing his story.