Have you ever had that moment when the stars align and something you’ve been puzzling over just… clicks? I had one of those moments a few months back. I was in a virtual meeting and someone was casually sharing a story about how their family ended up with a farm in southwest Missouri. It was a perfectly ordinary story—until it wasn’t. Something they said caused an almost audible snap in my brain. A real V8 moment! Two separate threads of my research, threads I hadn’t known were connected, suddenly wove themselves together.
Let me back up.
The Siegel Farm Project
If you attended the 2025 Missouri State Genealogical Association conference, you may have heard me talk about my land research project. My goal is to identify every previous owner of my maternal grandparents’ farm in Morgan County, Missouri. Carl and Roma Siegel assembled approximately 920 acres between 1929 and 1941—a patchwork of parcels, each with its own history stretching back to the original federal land patents.
I started with the Bureau of Land Management’s patent database and FamilySearch.org’s AI-driven Full Text Search, found the original patent holders and early deeds, then moved into the deed books at the Morgan County Courthouse in Versailles. And I want to be clear: this is not easy. Finding land transactions when you don’t know when they happened, who the buyers and sellers were, or where the documents were filed is like searching a room in the dark for something you’re not sure you left there. Land research often means hunting through mortgage records, civil suits, forced sales, sheriff’s auctions for back taxes—each category in a different set of books, following generations of families who have nothing to do with yours.
But it has been a labor of love. And among the outstanding questions that kept me up at night: who was Josephine Smith?
The Smith Problem
In 1931, my grandparents purchased a 100-acre parcel from a woman named Josephine M. Smith. I heaved a heavy sigh the moment I saw that name. Every genealogist knows what Smith means. Hours of research. Endless candidates. I checked our family tree first—no Josephine Smith. I searched the FANS (Friends, Associates, and Neighbors) in the vicinity of the farm—nothing. I climbed every family tree connected to the original landowners and the many interim owners. I got scuffs on my knees but found nothing.
My most promising lead was a woman named Virginia Ann Smith, wife of original landowner James Monroe Finley. But after searching all of Virginia’s siblings and half-siblings through two marriages of her father, I found no Josephine Smith in the right timeframe.
I set the project aside for months. When I went back to it, I knew I needed to go back to the basics.
What the Deed Actually Said
I returned to the original document and read it carefully. There were clues hiding in plain sight:
- Josephine Smith is listed as the seller, with a residence in Jackson, Jackson County, Michigan.
- Below her signature is a second signature: Thomas E. Smith. He is not listed as a seller, but he signed.
Was Thomas her husband? A relative? If they were married, had Josephine owned the property before the marriage? Why was he signing if he wasn’t a seller? I had a location—Jackson, Michigan—and a new set of questions. That was enough to work with.
Following the Evidence to Michigan
I started, as I recommend to all researchers, by learning what sources existed for Jackson, Michigan in that era—before diving into them. That preparatory step saved me a lot of wasted effort.
The 1935 city directory for Jackson placed a Josephine, wife of Thomas Smith, in the city. Nothing before or after. A search of Jackson-area newspapers turned up an obituary from 1933 for a Josephine Smith—but this Josephine was unmarried and had kept house for her father. Different family.
Then I found a 1937 Michigan death certificate for a Josephine Ann Smith with a husband named Thomas. The informant didn’t know her parents’ names, but listed her birthplace as Iowa. And here’s an important clue: on the death certificate she is “Josephine Ann”—but on the deed, she’s “Josephine M.” That “M” likely stands for her maiden name’s first letter. A common pattern when a woman’s legal name hadn’t been fully updated in older records.
The probate notice in the Jackson Citizen Patriot listed the executrix of Josephine’s estate as Emma Irwin. A new name. A new thread.
Emma Irwin and the Magerle Connection
David Irwin—Emma Irwin’s husband—had died in 1932, and his obituary in the Ingham County News provided exactly what I needed. David had married Emma Magerle in Kansas City, Missouri.
Kansas City. And a maiden name: Magerle.
Emma Irwin had a FindAGrave.com page—and on it, I found Josephine. The sisters were buried together in Iowa beside their parents.
The 1908 marriage record for Thomas E. Smith and Josephine Magerle confirmed everything. He was listed as a Michigan resident; she as a Kansas City resident born in Iowa. Her occupation: schoolteacher.
Josephine’s Story
With her maiden name and Kansas City connection, Josephine Magerle became easy to find. She had been hiding behind Smith all along.
Josephine Ann Magerle was born in December 1870 in Keokuk, Lee County, Iowa. Her father Joseph was a merchant tailor from Baden-Württemberg; her mother Emma Soelinger was from Bavaria. The family likely passed through New York City on their way to Iowa (Josephine’s sister was born in New York). Joseph Magerle died in 1880 at age 56, leaving his wife and two daughters. The three women eventually relocated to Kansas City.
In September 1896, the Kansas City Journal announced Josephine Magerle as a new teacher at the Lathrop School. She went on to teach mathematics at Central High School through 1907. After her mother died in 1904, Josephine and her sister Emma shared their Kansas City home. Both women married in 1908—Josephine to Thomas E. Smith of Michigan, Emma to David Irwin, also of Michigan. (Two sisters, two Michigan men, same year—a detail that deserves its own investigation someday.)
When Josephine died in 1937, the Kansas City Star noted her passing, remembering her as a teacher who had served Kansas City schools for many years before leaving after her marriage.
How Did She End Up with Missouri Farmland?
This was the last piece—and this is where the virtual meeting came in.
A friend and fellow researcher described how his family had found their Missouri farm through a notice placed by Prudential Life Insurance in a local paper advertising farms for sale. That remark triggered an immediate connection. Josephine had lived in Kansas City. The Kansas City Star published a weekly edition called The Kansas City Star Farmer from the 1920s through the 1960s—a paper read by farmers across the region, often received by mail even in rural counties.
My 2x cousin Bailey Hill told me years ago that his farm family read the Kansas City Star. When I asked why, he said they got it in the mail. Other family members confirmed the same. The paper’s farm edition carried commodity prices, livestock news, weather—and farm properties for sale, including foreclosure listings.
During the early 1920s, when crop prices collapsed and farmers defaulted on loans, those foreclosure listings would have been extensive. A Kansas City schoolteacher with a stable income and available savings was exactly the kind of person who might have read those listings and acted on them.
Previously I had discovered who owned the 100 acres before Josephine. W.S. Williams had a deed of trust (DOT). A search of the New England Securities Company DOT record book at the Morgan County Courthouse confirmed it. On June 8, 1923, Josephine M. Smith assumed the debt of W. S. and Bertha Williams, held by the New England Securities Company. She didn’t buy the property outright. She stepped into the existing mortgage and, eight years later, sold 100 acres to Carl and Roma Siegel for $1,500.
Josephine, It’s Been a Pleasure
Josephine Ann Magerle Smith (1870-1937). Born in Iowa. Daughter of a German immigrant tailor. Mathematics teacher. Kansas City woman. Michigan farm wife. Missouri landowner by way of a foreclosure notice in a weekly farm paper.
She wasn’t in our family tree. She wasn’t in any of the local families I researched. She was hiding behind the most common surname in the English language, in a county she may never have set foot in, her connection to this land the result of economic distress, newspaper advertising, and her own resourcefulness with a savings account.
But she was findable. They always are.