Curiosity about Names and the Second Great Awakening

 

The grave of Cassandra and Asher Bliss

When I first began working on my genealogy, I hit a lot of brick walls pursuing people by name. One example is my great-great-grandmother Cassandria Hooper Harrington Rogers Kauffman. I couldn't find any Harringtons that fit on census records in the Worcester area. I couldn't find a birth record for her or for her brother. And I never have, sadly. So I pursued Hooper. No luck. Finally, on a trip to New England, I consulted with a librarian at the New England Historic Genealogical Society. She didn't find anything but had another idea. Cassandria might well have been named in HONOR of someone. And it seems to have been the case.

Cassandria and Winslow Brainard Rogers were married in the Holden BAPTIST church, despite the fact that his grandfather was a founder of the local Methodist church. There may well have been a conversion, perhaps by his parents at the time he was born W. B.'s letters back from the Civil War are peppered with references of having Bible study or prayer meetings with his comrades. Cassandria is referred to in her obituary as "a godly woman". What was going on here? It was a phenomenon called The Second Great Awakening.

The Second Great Awakening occurred around the country between 1795 and 1835. Think Henry Ward Beecher, Lyman Beecher, Timothy Dwight, and even Joseph Smith.

"Many churches experienced a great increase in membership, particularly among Methodist and Baptist churches. The Second Great Awakening made soul-winning the primary function of ministry and stimulated several moral and philanthropic reforms, including temperance and the emancipation of women"

Primary themes were:

• All people are born sinners
• Sin without salvation will send a person to hell
• All people can be saved if they confess their sins to God, seek forgiveness and accept God’s grace
• All people can have a direct and emotional connection with God\
• Religion shouldn’t be formal and institutionalized, but rather casual and personal 

If all this sounds suspiciously like Jonathan Edwards, you'd be right. He was considered the father of this movement.

It occurred in three phases, the later ones marked by the popularity of tent meetings, camp meetings, and revivals. There were waves of itinerant preachers who traveled all over New England and upstate New York. It is entirely possible Cassandria's mother and father, Joseph Herrington and Nancy Green, attended one of these meetings. Cassandra Hooper Bliss and her husband Asher were on the circuit. And  Cassandra was a local girl, she grew up in Oakham and Boylston, Massachusetts.

“One of the families that welcomed the Hooper daughters warmly was the Whites [the subject family of the book]. Cassandra was a committed evangelical Christian, and from her arrival in 1830 she and her sisters Avis, Lydia, and Eunice were frequent visitors to the White’s elegant parlor, while matron Mary and her daughters returned those visits to the Hooper’s humble home. The nature of the visits is clear, as they were frequently made in company with the minister’s wife and other active evangelical women. Cassandra had apparently embraced evangelical Christianity before her arrival in Boylston; her younger sister Avis was “received to our Communion” along with eight other converts in March 1834; her sister Lydia made her public confession in October the same year. Though the family had fallen on hard times, their religious commitment marked them as genteel and pious folk and secured their respectability among Boylston’s better sort.

“Then, with no warning or advance preparations, Mary White made a surprise announcement in her diary. At the close of the afternoon service on the Sabbath of September 2, 1832, thirty-year-old Cassandra Hooper was married to a Mr. Bliss, and the couple left almost immediately to serve as missionaries to the Seneca Indians. They would continue in that work in western New York for the rest of their lives."-From A Crisis of Community by Mary Babson Fuhrer

The second bit of confusion was the origin of Winslow Brainard's names. For a while, my mother was convinced that we were somehow descended from John Winslow, of Mayflower fame. She was disabused of that idea by a genealogist or historian who could find nothing linking us to him. Again, I suspect he was named in honor of two people who figured in the Second Great Awakening.

Octavius Winslow was a prominent evangelist and Baptist minister. Although he died early, his ideas made it to America and he was revered among the revivalists.

David Brainerd was a missionary to the Native Americans. He might have been forgotten altogether, but a biography of him by Jonathan Edwards was reprinted many times and boosted his influence. One of those periods of influence was during the Second Great Awakening. James Brainerd Taylor, his cousin, enjoyed popularity as an evangelist and was said to have been inspired by David's example.

I consider this a good example of when NOT to make assumptions in doing research about your family. There could be many needless dead ends in your research when you make the facts fit the theory and not the reverse. There's no way to prove my theory, of course, but I suspect I have unraveled this particular bit of family history.

Tapply Lumber

 

Charlie and Bob Tapply outside Tapply Lumber

Over the years, there have been a few pictures posted to the family Facebook group of the Tapply Lumber Building on Culley Street.  By the way, these wonderful pictures are thanks to Buzz and Tina Tapply. I'm thinking they were taken in the forties, just based on clothing, but the tail end of the car in the top photo may place this more into the fifties. Everyone assumes I think, that this is where the story begins. However, Charles Tapply Senior, or Charlie (as I knew him) began in lumber a bit earlier.

Going through the Fitchburg Sentinel, I found an ad for the original Tapply Lumber location.

Tapply Lumber at 245 Lunenburg St.

The location on Lunenburg Street, or Route 2a has a modern building on it. It's located near the crossing of 2a and the John Fitch Highway. With a little more searching I found the notice of the purchase of Culley Street and the fate of the old building.

October 1940-The purchase of Culley Street

This places the establishment of the Tapply Lumber as most of the family knew it in October of 1940. He and his son Robert Nathan or "Bob" took over the established business at that location.  Buzz, Chuck, and Launa all have memories of the inside of that building. Both Buzz and Chuck describe the basement, where the custom cabinetry was built and lumber was stored. The upper floor had offices and 17 semiautomatic lathes. They all describe the elaborate belt and pulley system suspended from the ceiling that ran across the whole shop and powered the machines. Chuck described barrels in the basement the size of a 55-gallon drum. You would put in the wooden turned pieces with scraps of sandpaper and it would tumble them smooth similar to a rock tumbler. Launa has a particular memory of the loading dock which you can see more clearing in the contemporary pictures below.

She said, "The area down on the right was a loading dock, inside on the left of it was a huge ancient scale about waist high. Behind that was bedrock graduating up to the ceiling(main shop floor and about 15-20ft beyond the spectacular elevator run with an ancient amazing big chain and wheels." The back of the building had been built right into the granite ledge!

So what did Tapply lumber produce? Anything turned; handles, spindles, decorative work for houses, cabinets... I found some ads that give you some idea of what came from their shop.

A few of the regular ads that ran in the Sentinel

The ad for the knotty pine confirmed what I had heard; Charlie Tapply built my grandmother's last home on Rogers Avenue. Brainard's bedroom was completely paneled in that knotty pine. When it became a guest room, sleeping surrounded by all that paneling was a real trip.

Buzz said that they also took part in a fifties craze. The tubing for the original Hula Hoop was made in Leominster. Tapply Lumber made the wooden plugs that joined the two ends and made the hoop. Chuck confirmed this and adds that the kids from the fraternities at Fitchburg State came to Tapply Lumber for the "paddles" used in initiations. 

And where did all the lumber come from? Well, Bill Tapply had a lumber operation in Brookline, New Hampshire. All in the family.

Bill and company hauling lumber

It wasn't all smooth sailing, however. There was a large fire in March 1951.

19 March 1951

It was a large enough fire to make the front page of the Sentinel. Here is a bit of their coverage.

“Although officials theorize that a spark from the basement boiler ignited shavings in a nearby waste bin, the cause was still being probed today…”

“The bulk of the loss was in the cellar where lumber was stacked. The office on the street floor of the one-story  brick and wooden plant was untouched as was the shipping room, storage room and the major part of the plant…”

“Flames lurked at the west end of the Mohawk Express Garage also owned by Mr. Tapply”

“Mr Tapply said that his full crew of 25 workers would work as scheduled today, despite the fact that heat destroyed some of the lathe belts. The lumberman also stated that the plant was engaged in ‘some government work’ including turnings for airplane emergency life rafts.”

Launa said the ceiling downstairs was never the same after the fire. Leave it to Charlie and Bob, they were open and running the next day.

Members of the younger generation also have fond memories of visits to the building.

Kevin Tapply said, "I have a few memories of visiting Grampa and Uncle Bob... I was enchanted with this overhead belt system that drove all the machinery. I can still remember the smell of the fresh-cut wood"

And Mark added  "I'll always remember all the sawdust. It's not that much different from my shop where I build cabinets today."

Charlie left the business eventually and Bob bought him out. Bob continued, according to Launa, until his death in 1977.

Here are a couple of more contemporary pictures of the building. In the first, you can see the loading dock. The second is from the opposite side of the building.

 Woodworking has definitely been in the blood of this particular branch of the Tapplyy family. My thanks to Buzz, Tina, Chuck, Launa and Mark for their help gathering information for this post.

Grandma Katie's Quilt

Katie Cooke Fitzgerald

 We've heard the story of Katie's birth in Ireland, her immigrant family, and some tales of their life in Boston and Charlestown. This is a much later story. After I was born in 1952, my mother renegotiated a relationship between my father and his mother and I was frequently taken to see her in her apartment in Charlestown. This is where  I think this picture was taken.

In 1957,  in another picture taken at Thanksgiving or Christmas, we see Katie on a visit to our house in Burlington. This is when I think the quilts might have come into the family. This is not the story of a master quilter, far from it. I was not aware that Katie even sewed. I only know that in the late 1950s two tied quilts came to Lee and me; hers was in pink binding and mine in blue. They were on our beds in our childhood every winter and were much loved. They saw hard service. Lee's eventually fell apart or disappeared. Mine came to me when my mom made her last move. I set it aside up in a closet thinking I would do something with it "someday".

Someday came during a pandemic. I was cleaning out that closet for donations and found the quilt. It was in rough shape: stained, dirty, and falling apart in places. I decided it would make a good project.

It was a higgledy-piggledy arrangement of 2-inch charm squares set in a binding and backing of turquoise and tied, rather than quilted, with pink floss. Some places had orderly square corners and even seams, but sometimes things went off the cliff and small pieces were set in to make up the difference. The old fabrics were quite charming indeed.

There were whole sections of split or missing fabric, terrible stains, and other places where seam allowances dangled by a thread. And it smelled.

The first thing was to take it apart, wash the top, and see what was salvageable. So I began gently cutting the knotted floss, sliding out the ties, ripping the seams along the border, and easing the layers apart as kindly as I could. I put the top in a special quilt washing soap in the bathtub. Then I laid it gently over several lines of the clothesline so as not to stress the fabric. Immediately I began to see brighter color and things didn't seem quite so hopeless.

Now, this is a project that quilt conservators would run from. It's not a historic pattern, made by a master quilter. It's not actually quilted and its condition was poor. They would most likely say, 

"Pick out the best squares, make a pillow for remembrance and move on". But I'm stubborn. This is one of a very few things I have that came from that side of the family. It came from Katie as her gift to me. She may not have even made it; maybe she commissioned it from a friend. Who knows? As I examined it, I saw lots of 40's and 50's fabrics, but I also saw some rougher weave fabrics that may have come from old sugar or flour sacks. I also began to see a method in the madness. She actually used the 2-inch squares to make blocks of 16. Some of these were in pretty good shape. It might still have life as a wall-hanging. The turquoise border and backing were obviously new fabric at the time and in the best shape. So I decided to separate out blocks of 16, add the turquoise as a lattice for strength, and create a wall-hanging.

I began to pick out blocks of 16 and make repairs. Where the seams were shaky, or there were holes or splits, I used a light-weight fusible called Misty Fuse and pieces of muslin on the back. I replaced missing squares from elsewhere in the quilt. It started out with over 1, 000 small squares.

I was able to save about 500;  twenty-five blocks of sixteen and enough left over to create a running border. I didn't fuss too much with making every block the same size or perfectly square.

After I had the blocks assembled I laid them all out and arranged and rearranged until the rows measured more closely the same length and the arrangement was pleasing. Then I began joining the blocks and rows with the turquoise lattice. I tried to make things as even as possible, but I didn't fuss. The center would be an homage to the original, warts and all.

I took a picture of the back to show the extent of the repairs. It's a lot, I know, but I wanted to preserve whatever I could. The border squares were in the worst shape, but I think the border in the finished work is charming.

 I added plain muslin on all four sides to make up the difference in the size of the quilt.

I thought a long time about what should go in the "sandwich" that makes up a quilt. I was cautioned that traditional batting would put stress on the old fabric when I tied the quilt. I decided that a length of flannel would be the best choice. I joined two lengths, added a muslin backing, and basted the whole thing together. Now it was time to tie the quilt. I used the same shade of pink as the original on the old work and a shade that matched the muslin on the new work. This also took a bit of time and patience. It was a good project for pandemic movie-streaming.

Last, I cut a muslin bias-binding and bound all the edges. I added a pocket to the back of the quilt which will contain as much as I know about it and instructions for its care.

My nephew is the only child to come from my generation. He may not want a quilt on his wall. He may not appreciate its charms. But I hope he will put it away along with its story. Someday he may have a daughter, a granddaughter, or a daughter-in-law who will love it as I do. Maybe someday, someone will be curious about Katie and the Irish side of the family. At least if it doesn't hang on a wall, it can live in a chest of family memories. Someone will enjoy Katie's story.

The quilt enjoys a place of pride in my livingroom

A Pioneer Remembered

 

Montgomery Street, San Francisco, 1850

This year, 1850, was about the time that Michael Stinson Cooke arrived in the United States from Ireland. He spent some brief time in New York and then traveled west. What strikes me about this image is what is missing. You see some concentrated building in the foreground and the hills we know well, bare, in the background. Now imagine far beyond those hills, in the area we now call "the avenues" at the far west end of present-day San Francisco.  That was where Michael and his family settled. Imagine how far that was by wagon from Montgomery Street and what passed for "civilization".  

left: Alene Murphy Solari, top: Eva Piratsky Murphy, bottom: Ann Cooke, right: Mary Anne Cooke
Piratsky

 These are the women of the Cooke family sometime just before 1905 when Mary Ann's mother died. Mary Ann died in 1932, and in October the Oakland Tribune published a remembrance of her remarkable life and memories. Possibly it was largely penned by her husband James. I'm going to transcribe it here because it lends great color to the story of her life.

Oakland Tribune, Sunday, Oct. 2 1932

Of the Old San Francisco

"Of the old San Francisco was Mrs. Mary Ann Piratsky, born here seventy-seven years ago. Her death at Watsonville, where her husband James G Piratsky has been a newspaper publisher for some years, has brought out reviews of an eventful and inspiring life. Daughter of San Francisco pioneers, Michael and Ann Cook, Mrs. Piratsky always claimed the distinction of being the first white child born in that metropolitan area now embraced between Larkin Street, the Golden Gate, Seal Rocks, and Twin Peaks. She often related how the shack in which she was born was built with lumber that, painstakingly, was transported a couple of pieces at a time on the back of a mule over the only trail out to where her father settled. The trail started at the corner of Bush Street and Grant Avenue (just blocks from where the photo was taken) (at that time know at Dupont Street, one of the principal streets of San Francisco) and wound its way over the sand dunes out to the Odd Fellow Cemetery,  which property was then known as "Cook's Milk Ranch". Cook took up considerable land thereabouts, and in partnership with a man named Williams owned all of Lone Mountain, which mountain was sold by Cook to Archbishop Alemany for $150, in later years because a movement was on foot to take over the mountain and on its top bury David Broderick (who had been killed in a duel...), Cook said he did not want the grave to overlook his holdings, and strenuously objected to the proposal. Fearing that the people of San Francisco would take the land away from him, he arranged the sale of the mountain to the bishop, and thus stopped the movement. Archbishop Alemany, in after years, sold off from the base of Lone Mountain over $50,000 worth of lots, and still had the mountain, which the church is now grading off to erect thereon an educational institution.

On the Peralta Rancho

The Cook family, when Mrs. Piratsky was about four years old, moved across the bay and took a lease on a large tract of the Peralta Rancho, about where Berkeley is now located. Cook raise grain on this tract and did so well that he was enabled to return to San Francisco in a year or so, and erect a two-story residence on P. Lobos Avenue (then known as Geary Street) which he occupied until his death, some fifty years afterwards. Thus it will be seen that Mrs. Piratsky lived in a pioneer age. One of her prized possessions was a book "Annals of San Francisco", which was awarded to her as a prize at the Denman Girls' High School, then located at Bush and Mason streets. Especially interesting was the account of the escape of the Irish patriot, Terence Bellew Mc Manus, from Sydney, Australia, where he had been transported by the British Government. McManus was a prominent Irishman, and the British Government was extremely glad when he made his escape in a vessel sent to Australia by the Irish revolutionists. In fact, England didn't care if he never came back. Mc Manus made his escape to San Francisco and was given refuge by Cook, who was also one of the revolutionists. McManus took up and settled upon, as a ranch, the greater portion of what now comprises Golden Gate Park. He died from the hardship incurred in Australia and was taken back in great state to Ireland where he was given an immense funeral. His sister, Isabel McManus, was swindled out of the property by squatters instigated by some of McManus' professed friends. The Cooks befriended Miss McManus until her death. Mrs. Piratsky was at her best describing the McManus affair. Her first school was the Sisters' School, connected with an orphanage attached to St. Patrick's Church, which church was then located on the site now occupied by the Palace Hotel. Across the street, where the Crocker bank now stands was an immense sand-hill. The corner was once offered to Cook for a couple of hundred dollars. The offer was turned down. Also turned down was an offer made Cook that if he would clear off the sand-hill on the corner of Bush and Montgomery (on the same street as the photo) streets, he would be given one of the corner lots. The site was afterwards occupied by the Occidental Hotel.

I love the sleight-of-hand pulled by Michael on the city of San Francisco. They were looking, at the time, for a place to have large cemeteries. Michael foresaw seizure by eminent domain and sold to the bishop for a Catholic cemetery. Later all the cemeteries moved down to Colma. University of San Francisco, a Jesuit college, was built on the spot and remains there to this day.

As to his revolutionary leanings, it would certainly explain his very early exit from Ireland in 1850. He was eldest and would have inherited the lease on the land in Clooningan. That passed to his brother. I don't doubt that he had revolutionary sympathies, but it also wouldn't surprise me to find out that the McManus clan were cousins of some sort. I haven't found any McManus names yet in my tree, but the records may not be there. This was very early.

Mary Ann Cook Piratsky had a remarkable pioneer life in San Francisco. It's always so rewarding to find first-hand accounts in your family history.