ONE MORE FOR MOM

Well, I can't believe I have been so bad at getting back to this blog.  This is, as a reminder, Steve Sr., though it will credit it to Jeanne.

I have posted previously a song my mom used to sing to us, Two Little Boys.  Apparently there were other mothers who sang it to their little ones, though I have never heard it to the tune our mother sang.

More interesting is a song my mother used to sing simply called "Sandman".  There are many versions of a "Sandman" out there including one by the Chordettes, Sandman.

But in all my searching I have never found one even remotely close to the words my mother penned.  Until someone informs me otherwise, therefore, I will attribute this amazing work to her.  I will not try any fancy formatting, as this blogging software just seems to mess it up:

SANDMAN

Sandman comes a creeping 'round your nursery door

Careful not to step on toys left scattered on the floor

Gently then he seats himself on your cozy bed

Sprinkles stardust in your eyes, then tenderly pats each touseled head.

Carefully then he takes your hand & leads the way to slumberland.

So nighty-night and sleep tight, hope you have pleasant dreams tonight.

Be careful crossing that lollypop lane and don't eat too much of the candy cane,

Then please hurry back to your daddy and me with that ray of sunshine we're waiting (longing) to see

Bless you my darling where ever you roam (my darling little gnome)

And thank you, dear Sandman, for bringing (her, him) home.

It may not make any top-tens, but it is a part of what made my mother what she is and will always be to me.

MOM'S TURN

First a note:  until we get things straightened out, it may appear as though Jeanne - Mom - Grandma - is posting these.  That is because we have only one Google account.  For the most part, I (Steve - Dad - Grandpa) will be the one posting, so references "Mom" or "Dad" will mean my mom or my dad, on the Lambson side.

Last week was about Dad; today it is my Mom's turn to shine.  In sorting through some documents I came across a letter addressed to Iola Lambson, and it had a return address for Dick Jackman.  I recognized the name as one of my Mom's cousins who appeared occasionally at the annual Jackman Family Reunion, so I started to read.

Apparently he and his family had recently been in a serious accident in late 1964 or early 1965. The letter is postmarked February 2nd, 1965.  I pick up his words there

"Dot and I catch ourselves whispering at night in the front room where her hospital bed is and where I sleep on the couch.  We actually caught ourselves trying to keep quiet so as not to disturb the sleeping Robyn.  Habit is a strange thing---and it is hard to break--hard not to give way to unmanly tears and yet we read in scripture which state that IF we live for it we might raise him to manhood in the next life..."

He mentions the rest of the family: "We took Dot home from Malad (Idaho, to Blackfoot , where they live at this point) a week ago Saturday and Jeff will come home in about a week wearing a body cast until he heals enough for a fitting of that new lower leg."

Then, in different parts of the letter there are references to Mom's prayers:

First paragraph: "Your letter is something I will treasure as long as I live.  The verses and wishes for blessings,the words of comfort were just wonderful & were just what this 'ol pair of eyes needed to see!"

Later, after citing their hopes to raise their deceased son Robyn:"Our Grandma Jackman and Mom both gave me the thought that when we pray we'd better wish for his will to be done.  It is a strengthening to my testimony of this that you should include it and write it in your letter."

Finally, regarding Jeff, the son who apparently lost a leg: "If Jeff wasn't the recipient of a real miracle, I have blind eyes and deaf ears, and my sense of touch is gone---I have seen him change from blue to natural color; from choppy breathing & a fluttering heart to steady health; from fever to normal; from weak to strong!  And I know just as surely as I'm penning this that this was a direct answer to your prayers!"

Whatever her shortcomings were (and aside from a lead foot, I don't know of any) my mother was a ministering angel.  I hope I can follow her example.

Steve Sr. 

I AM BACK

...in more ways than one.  Jeanne and I just returned from 2 years in Arizona to our home in Columbia, Missouri; and I hope to be a good deal more regular in posting here.

Since we returned, most of our time has been spent putting our yard and our household back together. As we were looking through family history boxes deciding what to bring upstairs, i ran across several things that had not caught my attention before.  I will share information from two items, one each of the next two weeks, the first pertaining to my father, Virgil G. Lambson, the second to my mother, Iola Lambson.

For my father, I came across a very official looking document with "Army of the United States" emblazened across the top above the great seal of the United States. The title of the document is "Separation Qualification Record". under the title is a warning: "SAVE THIS FORM. IT WILL NOT BE REPLACED."

It appears to be a list of responsibilities he had while serving in the Army Air Corps for the purpose of certifying to potential employers his skills in these areas.  I was impressed because it gave in one paragraph an amazing array of responsibilities that he rarely talked about:

AIRPLANE ARMORER GUNNER 612   Inspected, repaired and maintained all aircraft armament.  Preflighted all armament equipment on plane before each mission.  Loaded, aimed and fired Cal 50 machine gun if combat occurred during flight.  Operated nose turret while serving tour of combat duty in B-17 aircraft over Germany.  Served with the 381st Bomb Group in England for 5 months.

In addition, on the back side of the document it listed related work he had done as a civilian from May, 1940 to October, 1941;

SHEET METAL WORKER  Worked for the Consolidated Aircraft Corporation in San Diego Calif. Fabricated, assembled and installed various sheet metal parts including wing and tail assemblies.  Cut metal; shaped it with forming machine.  Punched holes with drills and joined sheet metal parts by means of pneumatic riveting machines.  Worked on B-24s, X31s and XPB-2Y3s and 4s.

A regular Rosie the Riveter!

Some things I never knew about my Dad...and I am prouder than ever.  

   

A Veteran From Another War

This post is take from another Lambson progenitor, James Farley Lambson, who fought valiantly in the Civil War.  If you are keeping score, James was the youngest son of Boaz Lambson and Polly Walworth, and the Brother of Arba Lorenzo Lambson, who was the father of  Apollos Boaz Lambson, who was the father of Ormus Arba Lambson, who was the father of Appolos Byron Lambson, who was the father of Virgil George Lambson, who was my father.

James wrote a five and a half page history of his war experience which is fascinating if a little grizzly.  I am sparing you that, and share only this quarter-page conclusion and a couple of verses from a poem he wrote, In Memory of A Fallen Comrade.

"Now I have made my story longer than intended yet many incidents are left out.  Let me say to the incredulous that the horrors of war cannot be exaggerated.  The actual facts are as bad as the most vivid imagination can picture, and to those who think that a pension is a soft snap, perhaps it is for the man who never earned it, but all the gold in the world could not hire me to go through the ordeal of suffering again.  I would rather die.  And now I am getting $1.50 per day pension on the amputated leg, nothing on the other, while the men who suffered nothing and some of them did  nothing are getting $1.00 per day.  And to our young men I want to say that I worked in the hospital at Chattanooga helping to care for 5,000 wounded before I was crippled, so I have had a long experience, and I found that the immoral and dissipated men have little chance of recovery if badly wounded in hot weather.  Tobacco and whiskey put many under the sod, but worst of all is that burning disgrace to humanity called syphilis.  Now young men cut out your dissipation and foolishness, keep your body and soul clean, be honest, industrious and upright and live to a good old age, then die with a clear conscience and a bright hope for the eternal future.  Now I am 80 years old and those dissipated boys I used to know have been under the sod thirty or forty years.  The long sober life is far better than the short dissipated life."  

In Memory of a Fallen Comrade

Down at Resaca's bloody strife

We made the rebels run.

This gallant hero lost his life

And his last work was done.

And there they laid this soldier brave

In his last place of rest,

No stone to mark his lonely grave

Nor coffin o'er his breast.

And in a far off northern home

A mother old and gray

Was watching for the mail to come

Just at the close of day.

At length the looked for paper came

But not a gleam of joy.

In list of slain appeared the name

Of her own darling boy.

And in another home quite near

A maiden young and fair

Was shedding many a bitter tear

In grief and deep despair.

An now upon memorial day

of each recurring year

A lady now grown old and gray

Drops many a silent tear.

MORE ON UNCLE BILL

It has been a couple of weeks, so I thought I would post mostly pictures of stuff on this one.  Since it is Memorial Day, it seems appropriate to follow up on my previous post with some additional items Elizabeth Hamilton (Barney) posted.

First, this letter, sent to Aunt Mae:

   

Second, this announcement of his graduation from the flexible gunnery school at Kingman, Arizona, just four months before he shipped out.  Notice the Bugs Bunny meme they adopted

Mom and I hope to make a detour to Kingman on our way back from California.  Of course the gunnery school is no longer there, replaced by an industrial park and small local airport.  But the old air control tower is still in place, having been declared an historic site, and protected.  It will be something just to visit the place where he was and trained.  A few facts and pictures:

From Wikipedia:

The Kingman Army Air Forces Flexible Gunnery School Radio Tower, at 7000 Flightline Dr. in Kingman, Arizona is a historic structure built by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers in 1943. It is a steel radio tower that has also been known as Kingman Army Air Field Radio Tower and as Storage Depot #41 Radio Tower. It was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1999.^[1]

It is a 54-foot (16 m) tall "Airdrome Traffic Control" (ATC) tower that was built to control air traffic at the Kingman Army Air Forces (KAAF) Flexible Gunnery School. It has a 14-by-14-foot (4.3 m × 4.3 m) "cab" with a hip roof. In 1988, the cab was empty and the tower was surrounded by fencing.

It was believed to be one of only two ATCs of its type surviving in the United States.^[2]

It is located in what in 1988 was known as the Kingman Airport and Industrial Park.^[2]

Here is a link to a history of the school:

 Kingman Flexible Gunnery School History

And, a few pictures:

The Air Control Tower:

Logo:

:

Trainee:

Well, that's more than enough...but this stuff fascinates me and helps me feel connected to the uncle I never knew.

Love to all

A Tender Mercy

Some time ago, some of you will remember I posted a series of letters my dad's brother, Bill, posted during his service in WWII, up until the time he died.  I later posted a question as to whom his last letter was addressed, identified only as "Pop and Aunt Mae", copied below. 

A little over a week ago a relative, Elizabeth Hamilton (Barney), read that mystery under Uncle Bill's memories on family search and provided the answer, appended.  Juli and I have been batting this around, but I thought some of the rest of you might find the answer interesting:

Letters: Addendum (Originally posted by Steve Lambson, Sr to jackmanlambsonyoungfraedrich.blogspot.com on 1/14/2017)

In reference to my Uncle Bill’s letters, Juli had a question: who was the “Bud” referred to in many of the letters? Was it my father, another relative or friend, or did it vary? The answer is, without exception “Bud” refers to my father. I should have noted at the outset that all the letters I possess were addressed to my father with only two exceptions…one to Bill’s father Byron, which, like the ones to my dad; and one photocopied letter addressed to Mr. Ephraim Stradling. There were doubtless other letters to other people, including his sister Dorothy (Dot), but I have no record of these. The photocopied letter introduces an additional mystery that I mentioned to Juli, and attempted a quick resolution, but such was not to be. As I said, it was addressed to Mr. Ephraim Stradling and was postmarked September 14th, 1943. As such, it has particular poignancy to me as it is the last letter we have recorded from him before his plane was recorded missing September 23rd. The letter inside is addressed “Dear Pop and Aunt Mae”. So who was Pop, and who was Aunt Mae? Ephraim Stradling would be the brother to Byron’s mother Rose Stradling, so Bill’s Great-Uncle. His wife was Eugina Elizabeth Williams. We know that Byron’s wife Myrle died when Bill was not quite two weeks old (he was born December 31st, 1921, Myrle died January 10th, 1922), Virgil and Dorothy both under 5 years old. Since the kids were farmed out to different families, it is not impossible to believe Ephraim and Eugina had some part in Uncle Bill’s upbringing (after all, My father Virgil was raised by their Great Aunt and Uncle, Mary Stradling Cook and George Cook, who had also had a part in Byron’s upbringing when Rose died). The “Aunt Mae” part, on the other hand, is more confusing. Neither of Ephraim’s wife’s two names could be shortened to “Mae”. So the plot thickens. They had two daughters and a son. We will eliminate the son, William, from contention. The daughters were Myrtle, born in 1906, and Merline, born in 1909. We have a photocopy of a photo purported to be of Myrtle and Merline holding a pre-toddler Bill on their laps, probably close to 1923 (he looks to be about a year old). Myrtle was married to Roland Brimhall in 1923, Merline to Alma Barney in 1927, so it is possible that either of these might have had a role in Bill’s upbringing, and you could probably reduce either Myrtle or Merline to “Mae”. They would both be Byron’s cousins, so technically not aunts to Bill, but here is what persuades me to believe Merline may be the elusive “Aunt Mae”. In another photocopied page I have, there is a picture of Merline and Alma Standing on a porch. On the same page is a photocopy of a picture of Bill in uniform (the one most of you have seen), and a photocopy of a news clipping reporting Bill missing in action (I will have to send this in an e-mail). Also I have a Provo Herald Veteran’s Day Tribute insert section from November 11th, 2007, with the same photo of Bill, and this tribute: “I always loved you and was proud of you - sis (Aunt Merline)”. So what do the rest of you think? Who is Pop? Who is Aunt Mae? I have some contact information for a few members of the Alma Barney-Merline Stradling Barney family. Perhaps one of them can shed some light? Love, Dad (Steve Lambson, Sr)

 7

 1

• 8 May 2019

Ephraim Stradling (KWD9-3H2)married after Euginie died. He married Elizabeth Mae Wilde (KW87-QML) on the 10 Jun 1920. Elizabeth is the "Mae" you're asking about. My Grandmother,Merline Stradling Barney (KWCF-BV8), the daughter of Ephraim talked fondly of Billy as did her children, my dad, Merlin Barney and his siblings. I remember them all talking about Aunt Mae - who was Ephraim's second wife.

What a blessing...I now have a connection with Elizabeth, and thus  with another important branch of our family, the Stradlings and by marriage, the Barneys.

Unmentionable

The last entry was about kind deeds done by Frank, Arb's younger brother, and his family and associates.  This one concerns Frank's wife, Annie Laura Mangum Lambson, and an incident from her childhood.  It is in first person.

"One winter my father left his family to work in Silver City.  We were living in Alpine at the time.  How I remember that winter; I was about four years old, and the snow was so deep.  Our good old shepherd dog killed a deer that had floundered in a snow drift...some would say that was cruel, but nevertheless, we had fresh meat, and we were in need of food.  In those days all of the pioneers were hungry some of the time, some of them all of the time! The following year we farmed that place up next to the hill at the far west end of the valley.

Our best cow had a nice, white heifer calf.  I remember that one particular man of Luna wanted to buy it.  Mother refused to part with it.  One day she saddled her horse and went to Luna leaving my brother Kay and me at home.  Mother gave us last minute instructions for our protection as she always did: 'Remember, you must not go into the house, and if you see anyone coming, hide in the weeds and bushes.'  So, in order to be near the high weeds, we played in the dry creek bed, generally out of sight.  It was unusual to have white visitors, and when we heard the sound of tramping hooves, we crawled into the weeds and lay very still for a long time.  We heard the sound come, stop, and begin to go again, and I was curious.  I raised my head and gasped to see a man, whom we knew very well, driving mother's calf ahead of him.  Being young and carefree, we forgot the incident until time to milk the cows that night.  Tom went to bring the calves in, and when he came back he told mother he couldn't find the white calf.  Then I remembered.  My mother had a hard time believing me, thinking that since I was very imaginative, I was making up a story.  Two days went by and no white calf; mother was highly perplexed!  

She must have begun to wonder if my story was true, because she saddled up and again made the ride to Luna, with the same instructions for us.  She went to the home of the man in question, the very one who had wanted to buy the calf!  At the house she was treated cordially and invited inside.  She asked if anyone had seen her white calf, and the answer was an emphatic, 'No!'.  When she left, mother was even more bewildered.  She told them she was going to ride by the store and then on home, but she managed to slip around to the back of their barn and peek in.  There was her white calf!  She unlatched the door, and she and the calf high-tailed it home.  The calf was never mentioned again by either family."

Our Lambson Family, pp 95-96

A slice of life from the wild southwest😄. 

         

While there is little recorded about Ormus Arba Lambson and his descendants, (we will try to change that when we get back to Missouri) there is considerable about his brother Frank and his descendants (and why not...they compiled this book, where I am obtaining much of my material).   There is much that is amazing, touching, and funny about these cousins of ours, so I thought I would share some of these in the next few entries.

GIFT FROM FRIENDS

As as young lady, Ann Henderson, a noted writer, witnessed and recorded the following anecdote in which a group of Ramah Elders, Including FRANK, figured prominently.  This took place about 1917.  Homesteading was still taking place in selected areas of the West.  The Henderson family had recently settled near Whitewater, an area bordering the Zuni Reservation about twenty-five miles northwest of Ramah (See map page 79).

Their log house was nearly finished.  Only the windows and doors needed to be put on.  Then the Jim Hendersons could move into their new 'log cabin' home.

The fall harvest was lagging.  Jim had to quit work for now at the saw mill so he could get the crop in.  They had to get potatoes dug, the corn in the bin, the cabbage pulled and hung, the beans pulled and dried and ready for thrashing [sic].  Jim and Hattie were working hard and fast to get the harvest done.  Now the oat hay was stacked and the bean hay was salted and also in a stack.  The potatoes were in the bin in the cellar.  Jim and Hattie had shredded enough cabbage one night for a five gallon crock of sauerkraut.  The rest of the cabbage was hung by the roots upside down from the cellar ceiling cross the beams to keep for winter.

While Jim was finishing part of the roof, he fell, and was badly injured.  They were worried about Jim, the roof and the windows and the rest of the harvest.  Hattie could not do all of the work.  Jim tried very hard to help Hattie but was in so much pain he could not help.  When Hattie was alone she cried and prayed. 'Dear Father, please help us if we are worthy,' she said.  'Jim is down.  A winter storm is brewing.  The beans need to be thrashed and carried in.  The house needs finishing.  Please, God, help us.  amen.' 

Hattie knew she could not get all of her winter preparation...work done now as she must do the most necessary jobs first.

Ann was getting bigger now.  She was seven years old, willing to help...

One early morning Ann was...washing the breakfast dishes by the kitchen window and happened to...see six wagons of people come over the hill towards their log house.

Ann called...'Mamma, look!  There are wagons coming!'...

'Six wagons, piled with something.  And men and women too,' she said.  Then Hattie looked again  in disbelief and wonderment...

...The wagons came and stopped in front of Jim and Hattie's half-done house.  Hattie was afraid.  Then someone knocked on the door.  Hattie...opened...A bearded man, about forty years stood at the door.

He said, 'Hello, Ma'am.  Is this the Jim Henderson home?

'Yes,' said Hattie, 'Yes it is."

The man asked 'Is Jim Henderson here?'

Hattie replied, 'Yes he is, but he is in bed.  He is hurt and cannot come...'  At this moment Jim called out, 'Hattie, bring the gentleman in here to my bedroom to talk to me.'

Hattie showed the way...the man walked into the room...and put his hand out to shake hands with Jim saying, 'We are from the Church of Latter-day Saints from Ramah, south of here.  I am Frank Lambson.  There are also Bonds, Crockets, Clawsons, Days, and Merrills here.  This is my brother Gene...we have come here to help you finish your house.  There is a major storm coming.  You need to have your house finished before the storm hits here.'

Jim said, 'Yes, Mr. Lambson, I know, but I cannot do any work yet.'

'We are here to help and do the work for you,' Mr. Lambson said.

Jim answered, 'I can't pay you, Mr. Lambson.  I do not expect you to do my work with no pay.'    

'Mr. Henderson, we do not want pay.  You are in need.  We are God's people and must help one another.  Maybe someday some of us will need help and you can return to help us if you want to.  But you will not owe us anything,' Mr. Lambson assured Jim.

Then Jim spoke up.  'I also do not have the necessary supplies to finish our house.'

Mr. Lambson answered, 'We brought the necessary supplies, Mr. Henderson, so now we will start to work.  If you will tell your Missus, we also have ladies that will help her.'

Like a drone of locust, the men and women from Ramah worked all over Hattie and Jim's new home.  They put the windows into the walls.  At once the ladies put curtains on every window.  The men finished the roof on the whole house, then completed the porch.  They brought in the beans, thrashed and stacked them, harvested the winter squash and the rest of the small crop.  The ladies brought with them over a hundred jars of home canned fruits, relishes, pickles, jams and jellies to give to Jim and Hattie for winter food help.  They brought homemade quilts.  They even brought wood all sawed the right length for the fireplace and stove.  Each wagon was loaded with supplies...The Mormons carried all of the cut wood in and stacked it onto the covered porch so it would be dry and easy to get to.

When this day and work was ended, the Mormon work train left.  Jim shook hands with the Mormon men and thanked them many times saying, 'If I can ever help you, please let me know.'  Harriet cried and said, 'Thank you God for answering my prayer...Now we can make it through this winter.'          

  

     

Myth-Busting

There is not a lot of information recorded about my great-grandfather, Ormus Arba Lambson, nor his wife, Rose Stradling, nor their descendants, including my grandfather, Paulos Byron, and his siblings.  The history Our Lambson Family Barnabas - Boaz: Ridgewell to Ramah 1635 -1992 does not add a great deal.  In fact, there is more in the histories of Joseph and William Stradling I posted earlier, on July 21st of 2018.  However, what there is serves to reinforce the Stradling history, and debunks a myth my family grew up with, that Ormus Arba was a gunslinger and likely died in a gunfight.  What I have been able to put together, recorded below, is taken from the Lambson Family history.

Ormus Arba's father was Apollos Boaz, son of Arba Lorenzo, the source of his middle name.  How he got his first name is a little bit more humorous:

"At about twenty-two years of age, APOLLOS left Springville (Utah) to make his own life, being drawn generally toward Tooele or Rush Valley, west of Salt Lake City, where the Bates family resided.  Circumstances indicate that he had met his future wife at a much earlier age in Iowa.  It is likely that the families were in touch from that time on.  Regardless of the circumstances, he sought permission to marry Anjenette, and Ormus Bates (her father) refused.  The story goes they ran away to Levan, were married and then returned to Rush Valley to break the news to the bride's family.  The first year of their marriage was spent in Rush Valley where their oldest son was born in December 1867.   APOLLOS wastwenty-four years old.  We assume the supposed rift was immediately mended as he gave his first son the name of both his father-in-law and his father, Ormus Arba, his second son the name of Ephraim (Ormus Bates' middle name) and his third son, Bates.  In 1869 they were married in the Salt Lake Endowment House returning to live in Levan, Utah where their next two children were born." (P. 67)

"...In 1875 APOLLOS was called by the L.D.S. general authorities to help in the coloniozation of the Arizona Territory outposts.  In 1876 they arrived with their teams and wagons at the small Mormon fort near Winslow...

It was in this general area that our first recorded word of mouth history from FRANK comes.  He told of his older brother Arba, and is work in Sunset with the Hashknife Ranch.  'Arb' was one of several young Mormons hired to take care of the cattle in the rustler-infested territory.  It was in that place and at that time, Ormus Arba developed a reputation as a gun fighter and a fine fiddler." (P.68)

"On to the Zuni  Mountains APOLLOS went with his sons ARBA, EPHRAIM, FRANK, AND GENE...And  on south they would go, down into the blistering Sonoran Desert country of the Gila River Valley of Arizona...It was there in the year 1894, that his last child was born; and it was there that his beloved wife died.  ...FRANK was eight years old, and bis oldest brother (ARBA) was twenty-seven.

With Anjenette's death, APOLLOS was left with six children from thriteen years down; and eight years later, ARBA, his oldest son, died from "consumption," which may be construed to mean any number number of respiratory lung ailments.  ARBA left a young family and his widow, Rose Stradling Lambson." (P.70)

Here the Lambson and Stradling histories disagree, and the Stradlings have it right...Rose died before ARBA, in July of 1902, and was buried in Provo, and the children were taken to live with Rose's sister Mary (Stradling) Cook and her husband George in Provo.  Arba would die not eight months later in St. Johns, Arizona and is buried there.

The one other item relating to ARBA attests to his musical ability:

"Little history can be found for ARBA, the first child of APOLLOS, at this time.  Fannie, his sister, stated that he was not just a fiddler, but was 'extremely good'". (P. 73)

So, Ormus Arba was named to create peace between his father and grand-father in law, was not a gun-slinger, but a gun-fighter, fending off cattle rustlers, was a good musician, and died of consumption, not a bullet, at the young age of 35.  Myths busted.

         

            

Saturday, March 2nd, 2019

WHATS IN A NAME?

I know it has been a while...ok, over 2 months, but not a full quarter.  At any rate, I am easing back in with a short one.

In reading through "Our Lambson Family - Barnabas to Boaz" I came across a section dealing with the various permutations that are known in the spelling of our family name.  I quote from page 3:

"Research on the family name has given us the following information:

  'Various forms of the name are as follows: Godwin Lambesune...Berkshire during the reigns of            Henry III and Edward I...Johannes and Ricardus Lambeson resided in Yorkshire in  1379...                  Thomas Lamson appears in Court Rolls in the reign of Edward IV and William Lampson in                 the time of Queen Elizabeth....' "[To this we can add that it was recorded in Essex County in                 the 16th Century with the spelling LAMBSON.]"  (Bardsley): Dictionary, English and Welsh               Surnames."

 "The earliest mention of our name in America is William who, it is recorded came from England in 1634.  He appears on a list of freemen in Ipswich, Massachusetts in 1637.  BARNABAS arrived in 1635, and is recorded as a Selectman in 1636.  Thomas is found at about the same time. He did not settle in Massachusetts but went to New Haven, a very early Connecticut settlement.  BARNABAS settled in Newtowne, later named Cambridge, Massachusetts, living there until his death around 1640. These three men, with Colonial records generally spelling the name , "Lamson or Lampson" are purported to be closely related, possibly brothers.  It is recorded that William and Thomas were christened in Terling, Essex, England, but we have not yet found BARNABAS' place of birth. (Taken in part from the writings of Dr. W. J. Lamson.)"

Sooooo......spell it however you  want😊.