The Story of Unexpected Pages: How a Cousin's Book Photos Finally Led to Jennie McKay's True Father (Part one)
The Story of Unexpected Pages: How a Cousin's Book Photos Finally Led to Jennie McKay's True Father (Part one)
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| Courtesy of Joann Colton Comeaux |
Unlocking the Brick Wall: How a Cousin's Message Changed Everything
If you spend enough time building a family tree on Ancestry, you eventually hit that terrifying, silent wall—the spot where the records
For years, the research lived a scattered, messy life: quick messages traded with cousins, half-formed theories typed into profile note sections, and endless census tabs open in a browser. At one point, other family trees proudly displayed a specific father's name for Jennie—a convenient placeholder that had been copied and pasted for years. But a hard look at the actual records proved it completely wrong, leading straight to a dead end and a person who wasn't her father at all.
The pieces were all floating around, but nothing was anchored until a casual message from a cousin changed everything. It started simply enough with a question:
"Do you have a copy of June Olson's book, Walking in the Great Circle? There’s a lot of interesting info there."
W
"What’s interesting is what information is available about Jenny Mackey or McKay."
When he sent over photos of those pages, I slowly went through all the information provided, adding the clues to Ancestry. Suddenly, the paper trail started to click into place. When you line up the dates—like discovering Dr. McKay had another child born the exact same year as Jennie—a dry historical puzzle transforms into a deeply human, complicated story.
This blog series is where I am finally gathering those pieces together out of the chat logs and profile notes. We are walking step-by-step through the genealogical progression: sorting out the misattribution from other trees, tracing the shifting boundaries of reservation life in Oregon, untangling messy family timelines, and following the paper trail to honor the ancestors who built our foundation.
Welcome to the journey.
Looking back, it’s wild to realize that these pieces of our puzzle—the hidden family connections and the true identity of her father—had been sitting right there in the pages of June Olson's book the whole time, waiting for the right moment to click. Seeing the snapshots of those pages brought everything into focus, bridging the gap between old family lore and the cold facts of the paper trail. Below are the pages that changed the whole picture:
Bringing the Conversation into Focus
An excerpt from June Olson’s Walking in the Great Circle, featuring historical documentation and family lineages connecting the McKay and Norwest branches.
As my cousin Sam and I started piecing it together from those pages, the scope of the tree opened all the way up. It started with a simple realization, but as Sam pointed out:
"If Jenny Mackey was actually Jenny McKay, son of William McKay, then we descend from the first woman of Oregon, who would be Marguerite Waddens [Wadin] I believe, who married John McLoughlin."
Suddenly, a localized family brick wall expanded into centuries of Pacific Northwest history, connecting us directly down through those early fur trade and pioneer lines.
Featuring the rare photograph of Jennie Mackey-Riggs (courtesy of Joann White-Cotton and Bud White, grandchildren of Clara Robinson-Riggs) alongside the textual breakdown of William McKay's lineage.
Seeing this young photograph of Jennie McKay for the first time stopped me in my tracks—it suddenly brought all those dry census lines and research notes into sharp, human focus.
Continuing the detailed archival notes and historical context mapping out our Pacific Northwest ancestors and their community connections.
What caught my eye right away was the mention of being cousins with Frank Norwest. I’ve spent countless hours staring at Norwest connections in our DNA matches, especially seeing how those matches descend right down through two of his children—trying to trace those lines through other family branches to figure out how we fit together. As my cousin Sam noted,
"tracking the name can be tricky because "Norwest" originated from the men who worked for the North West Fur Company, originally known as "Nor'westers" before the name shortened over the years."
It makes you wonder: when Jennie suggested those family ties, did they already know they were genetically related, or were they just recognizing each other as kin in the way tight-knit reservation communities always
To fully understand how these family networks crossed paths, we must look further back into the history of the North West Company roots. Tracing those lines down through our shared DNA matches and early community archives reveals an intricate web of kinship that stretched across the Pacific Northwest—a legacy we will explore in the chapters ahead.
Tracing Our Klickitat Roots and Seasonal Journey's
Growing up I knew we were Shasta and Umpqua on the Grand Ronde side. I learned we were Klickitat from researching. For the longest time, all we knew about Jennie McKay was her Klickitat roots and the family story of her being caught at Willamette Falls at the time of the forced removal—moving with a bedridden, sick mother and an aunt to stay connected to her mother's family networks, whether that ultimately led up into Washington or across the region. Because they weren't allowed to return back freely to their people, they were left navigating an impossible displacement. Her father's lineage wasn't even on the radar; instead, researchers relied on placeholder names from other trees that led straight to a dead end. Now,
Reading the Record: What Jennie’s Death Certificate Reveals
Unlocking the Brick Wall: How a Cousin's Message Changed Everything
If you spend enough time building a family tree on Ancestry, you eventually hit that terrifying, silent wall—the spot where the records
For years, the research lived a scattered, messy life: quick messages traded with cousins, half-formed theories typed into profile note sections, and endless census tabs open in a browser. At one point, other family trees proudly displayed a specific father's name for Jennie—a convenient placeholder that had been copied and pasted for years. But a hard look at the actual records proved it completely wrong, leading straight to a dead end and a person who wasn't her father at all.
The pieces were all floating around, but nothing was anchored until a casual message from a cousin changed everything. It started simply enough with a question:
"Do you have a copy of June Olson's book, Walking in the Great Circle? There’s a lot of interesting info there."
W
"What’s interesting is what information is available about Jenny Mackey or McKay."
When he sent over photos of those pages, I slowly went through all the information provided, adding the clues to Ancestry. Suddenly, the paper trail started to click into place. When you line up the dates—like discovering Dr. McKay had another child born the exact same year as Jennie—a dry historical puzzle transforms into a deeply human, complicated story.
This blog series is where I am finally gathering those pieces together out of the chat logs and profile notes. We are walking step-by-step through the genealogical progression: sorting out the misattribution from other trees, tracing the shifting boundaries of reservation life in Oregon, untangling messy family timelines, and following the paper trail to honor the ancestors who built our foundation.
Welcome to the journey.
Looking back, it’s wild to realize that these pieces of our puzzle—the hidden family connections and the true identity of her father—had been sitting right there in the pages of June Olson's book the whole time, waiting for the right moment to click. Seeing the snapshots of those pages brought everything into focus, bridging the gap between old family lore and the cold facts of the paper trail. Below are the pages that changed the whole picture:
 |
| An excerpt from June Olson’s Walking in the Great Circle, featuring historical documentation and family lineages connecting the McKay and Norwest branches. |
"If Jenny Mackey was actually Jenny McKay, son of William McKay, then we descend from the first woman of Oregon, who would be Marguerite Waddens [Wadin] I believe, who married John McLoughlin."
Suddenly, a localized family brick wall expanded into centuries of Pacific Northwest history, connecting us directly down through those early fur trade and pioneer lines.
 |
| Featuring the rare photograph of Jennie Mackey-Riggs (courtesy of Joann White-Cotton and Bud White, grandchildren of Clara Robinson-Riggs) alongside the textual breakdown of William McKay's lineage. |
Seeing this young photograph of Jennie McKay for the first time stopped me in my tracks—it suddenly brought all those dry census lines and research notes into sharp, human focus.
 |
| Continuing the detailed archival notes and historical context mapping out our Pacific Northwest ancestors and their community connections. |
What caught my eye right away was the mention of being cousins with Frank Norwest. I’ve spent countless hours staring at Norwest connections in our DNA matches, especially seeing how those matches descend right down through two of his children—trying to trace those lines through other family branches to figure out how we fit together. As my cousin Sam noted,
"tracking the name can be tricky because "Norwest" originated from the men who worked for the North West Fur Company, originally known as "Nor'westers" before the name shortened over the years."
It makes you wonder: when Jennie suggested those family ties, did they already know they were genetically related, or were they just recognizing each other as kin in the way tight-knit reservation communities always
To fully understand how these family networks crossed paths, we must look further back into the history of the North West Company roots. Tracing those lines down through our shared DNA matches and early community archives reveals an intricate web of kinship that stretched across the Pacific Northwest—a legacy we will explore in the chapters ahead.
Tracing Our Klickitat Roots and Seasonal Journey's
Growing up I knew we were Shasta and Umpqua on the Grand Ronde side. I learned we were Klickitat from researching. For the longest time, all we knew about Jennie McKay was her Klickitat roots and the family story of her being caught at Willamette Falls at the time of the forced removal—moving with a bedridden, sick mother and an aunt to stay connected to her mother's family networks, whether that ultimately led up into Washington or across the region. Because they weren't allowed to return back freely to their people, they were left navigating an impossible displacement. Her father's lineage wasn't even on the radar; instead, researchers relied on placeholder names from other trees that led straight to a dead end. Now,
Reading the Record: What Jennie’s Death Certificate Reveals
 |
| Jane Riggs Death Certificate |
Solving the Date Puzzle: Comparing the Death Certificate to the Timeline
Looking at the death certificate, you might do a double-take at her age—it lists her as 106 years old, which would point back to a birth year around 1832. For a long time, family notes and trees held onto that 106-year lifespan.
But when you line that up with Dr. William "Billy" Cameron McKay’s actual timeline—since he was born in 1824—an 1832 birth for Jennie would mean he was only eight years old when she was born. History (and biology!) tells us that 1848 is her actual birth year, making her about 90 when she passed away in 1938. Census records and early family profiles can sometimes exaggerate or mix up ages, but stepping back to look at the parents' timelines helps clear up the math and gets us closer to the real story.
Looking at her birthplace on the death certificate as Oregon City isn't just a dry detail—it confirms the family story of her being caught right at Willamette Falls at the time of the forced removal. Even more than that, it places Dr. William "Billy" Cameron McKay right in that same area during that exact time frame, bringing the paper trail and the oral history together.
Born at the Falls: Tracing Her Birthplace to Oregon City
But how those timelines cross paths, and the full story of his life and movements, is a whole other chapter—one we'll be breaking down when looking at his life. While the Klickitat’s traditional homelands were north of the Columbia River, families regularly moved across the region for seasonal fishing, gathering, and trading. Being born in Oregon City meant her mother was operating outside of those northern homelands during a seasonal migration or trade period right when the immense pressures of settlement and displacement were closing in. It captures how families were navigating the landscape dynamically, even as the world around them was changing forever.
From Jennie to Jane: The Evolution of a Name
It’s also fascinating how those first names evolved over time. While she spent most of her life known to family and records as Jennie or Jenny, her death certificate officially records her name as Jane. In 19th- and early 20th-century record-keeping, it was incredibly common for official clerks, medical examiners, or family members informing the state to formalize a nickname like Jennie or Jenny into its traditional root name of Jane when the final paperwork was filed.
The Final Proof: The McKay Surname on the Record
And right there on the certificate, her father's last name solidifies the whole connection—providing that crucial official link that ties her directly back to the McKay lineage. While the informant left his first name blank, having that last name stamped on her final record bridges the gap between family memory and official documentation, backing up everything the research and the book pages suggested. Her son Samuel Riggs being listed as the informant on that document makes the record even more powerful—it means her own child was the one providing those final details to the state, anchoring her legacy directly through her family's care.
Here is how you can weave that specific, crucial point right into your conclusion. It calls out the lack of a traditional paper trail, highlights how rare it is to find Dr. McKay and Solomon Riggs in the same room, and emphasizes why your foundational research was the absolute key to unlocking it:
It is incredible how history works in layers. Looking back at the records from the 1871 Salem Council, Dr. William McKay is a heavily documented historical figure, yet outside of the small clue tucked into Walking in the Great Circle, there is virtually no traditional paper trail connecting Jennie as his daughter. Without building up that foundational knowledge from our ongoing research—starting back in October 2025 and carrying through to July 2026—I never would have known who to look for, let alone recognized that Dr. McKay and his son-in-law, Solomon Riggs, were occupying the same historical space. Having that background context is what turns a quiet mention on an old council roll into a major family revelation.
That overlap of timelines really makes you wonder what was actually going on behind the scenes, or what kind of relationship Dr. McKay, Solomon, and Jennie truly shared. When you line up the dates, it turns a straightforward historical puzzle into something deeply human and complicated. You have this prominent, well-documented figure and his daughter's family moving through the same spheres, but between the chaotic realities of reservation life, shifting boundaries, and messy family timelines, it's hard to tell how much of a relationship they maintained.
Yet, even if the paperwork or the miles kept them at a distance, seeing Solomon stand up in that council room and declare
"my wife and baby"
right in front of federal officials—with Dr. McKay right there in the mix—gives Jennie a powerful, protective presence in the history books. It bridges that gap between cold historical records and the real, complicated families trying to hold it all together.
Looking back, none of this would have come to light without Sam generously sharing his research and helping us work through the clues tucked inside Walking in the Great Circle. After he sent those photos, I transcribed what they were saying and plugged the details straight into Ancestry to see if any official records would pull up to verify the relationship. The timing feels remarkable, with each new layer of research building naturally on the last to reveal family branches we never knew we had. By connecting these dots, we are actively reclaiming bloodlines and names that were left hidden away in bureaucratic records
Sources:
Book Citation
Olson, June L.
Living in the Great Circle: The Grand Ronde Indian Reservation 1855-1905.
Published by A. Menard, 2011.
Archival Record Citation
State of Oregon, Death Certificate for Jane Riggs (Jennie McKay), died 1938. File No. / Certificate details accessed via Ancestry.com.
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