A Life's Mission

Sister Columba (Belinda Cooke) probably on an celebration of her vows

Meet Belinda Cooke. Belinda would be my first cousin, twice removed. She was my great-grandfather Michael's  niece. Here's a small tree to help keep it straight.

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Belinda had five brothers and lived on the family farm in Clooningan. She was born in 1898, so this would have been long before much knowledge of modern illnesses, much less treatment. At some point in her childhood, she got polio. The family story is that she prayed that if she were cured, she would devote her life to missions.

In the early twenties she made good on this promise and went to the Convent of the Good Shepherd in Limerick. From there she went on to France, probably the mother house in Angers for her training as a teacher. At some point she took her vows and became Sister Columba. She took a trip home before going on her assignment and announced to the family she would not be back. Her assignment took her to a convent and school in Mysore, India. 

Sister Columba on the right with Anne Leonard

You can get some idea by checking out the background in the picture. You can see the students and a bit of the school and convent. My cousin, Anne Leonard, worked for an airline and was able to visit her.

And this also gives you some of the "flavor" of her world.

She also kept up a lively correspondence with her nieces and nephews in Ireland, Canada, and the United States. The letter I'm quoting from is from her to her grand-nephew Jimmy. My cousin Denise kindly shared.

"You asked what subjects I teach. Well, dear I teach every subject except 2nd language and that is always the language of the country so I cannot teach it. Our classes here are very big I have over fifty. They are mostly all bright intelligent children. Last year I taught the boys, this year I have girls. Of course they are mostly all pagans; that is the sad part of it."
I suppose this attitude, though a little uncomfortable for us, is not unexpected for a nun at the time. And she devoted her life to teaching them, so I can't fault her for that. I used to think classes of thirty were too big, I can't imagine fifty! She wrote another letter to Denise herself, but it is mostly personal and about family.

I usually do a lot more research on the people I blog about, but with a nun that's rather hard. Plus her order has fallen under a bit of a cloud, so information is hard to come by.  This isn't the only person in the family to take vow, but she is in more recent memory so there are picture and relics to tell the story. And she kept her promise in a way I find admirable.

Plague

Katherine Rhodes-Fields from The Plague Doctor series. All rights reserved.

What could be more appropriate today than a plague doctor in his mask? It is certainly nothing new in the history of mankind. You might remember my post about how one small town where my Rogers ancestors lived dealt with an outbreak of smallpox. And how some surrounding towns took a more bloodless approach. Check that out here.

The plague of the 19th Century was tuberculosis. Before it was understood that a particular bacteria caused the disease, crowding, poor sanitation and poor hygiene killed large numbers of people in this country who contracted TB. No surprise, when people were removed to cleaner sanitariums they often recovered. I was startled to discover how many of my relatives died of tuberculosis as I worked on my tree. Finding them all to list them would have taken the better part of my month at home. So I chose the most striking examples. I would find some really well-kept registers that listed "consumption" or "phthisis pulmonalis" as the cause of death. That's TB. There were probably many others, but before good records were standardized, an early female death would easily have been either childbirth or TB.

Jennie R Smith- Nov 1880

This is one of the saddest records I found. Jennie was my great-great-grandfather's youngest sister. She died at just nineteen. The worst part was that out of twelve children in this family, only 3 lived to adulthood. Jennie almost made it. On the same page recording her death in Waltham I found many other TB deaths.

Another story was that of the family of Moses Rogers of Holden. He was my third great grandfather's brother. In his family he lost 4 children to tuberculosis, one to typhoid, one to typhus and one to cancer. Seven out of his eight children. Some in adulthood, to be sure, but still... 

I think  about the things that killed people in the 19th century: disease and childbirth. Old age was a luxury. People were accustomed to death in a way we just aren't. And accustomed to outbreaks of diseases we have long left behind. On the register page with Jennie's death I found tubercular meningitis, tuberculosis and six cases of diphtheria.  The outbreak at one point was so severe that people blamed vampires and began doing strange rituals to stop it. You can read about that here. Bleach and toilet paper hoarding may be more logical, but no less hysterical.

Josephine Payne Fitzgerald 1910

This last record is the death of my great-uncle Robert Fitzgerald's wife Josie in 1910. Even then, tuberculosis was taking lives. Her infant son died the same month of  "lumbar pneumonia", but who knows whether she passed it along to him?  Robert was left to raise my cousin Katherine until 1917 when a freak accident killed him and she went to live with my grandparents.

I found stories like this all through the family tree as I have worked along. Now to be sure, tuberculosis was a slow death. People knew the outcome and had some time to accustom themselves to the eventuality; the average TB patient lived three to five years. There were no airplanes. People traveled less. The spread would have been slower. And living in an age where we are inoculated against the biggest killers of previous ages, we have no reference for what we are seeing today.

Here's a thought. Picture your family tree as a very large inverted triangle with you, the "distillation" at the very bottom. That image reminds me again of something that struck me early on in genealogy: I am the result of survival of every possible type of calamity. My ancestors survived pandemics, deaths in accidents, death in childbirth, war, famine  just to name a few. My very existence is a kind of miracle. Until I did genealogy, I never really grasped or appreciated that. 

Today, I do even more.

Throwback Thursday

This is Ann Cooke, the widow of Michael Stinson Cooke in front of her home at the corner of Geary and Cooke St.. (San Francisco) I don't know the year, but Michael died in 1897 and she died in 1905 so my guess is somewhere in that time period.

This is that same corner today. Based on a previous much older photo, the house actually faced what is now Geary and sat where the tire store is located at about the spot you see the small tree.

A Sticky Disaster in the North End

Clarke at Hanover St. in Boston's North End about 1893-courtesy of the photo archives Boston Public Library

This is Boston's famous North End neighborhood, just before the turn of the century. My Cooke relatives weren't living here at this time; they were living in Dorchester near Michael's workplace in the stoneyard. It gives you some idea, however, of what the neighborhood looked like. There were the famous buildings, the home of Paul Revere and the Old North Church, and then there were squalid tenements. The neighborhood was teeming with Irish immigrants. Indeed, the Cookes moved to 164 Endicott Street and were shown there on the 1900 census.

They didn't live there long. Michael moved the family across the Charles River to Charlestown and died in 1913. By the time our story takes place in 1919 the neighborhood was largely Italian immigrants. Michael's widow was in Everett with her daughter and my grandmother, grandfather and their family were living in Charlestown. But I tell this story as an illustration of what happened in immigrant neighborhoods in many cities at this time where there were industries side-by-side with poor housing and little regulation to protect the residents.

The story actually began before the first World War when the U.S. Industrial Alcohol Company began work on a very large tank on the waterfront on Commercial Street in the North End. The company planned to house large amounts of imported molasses awaiting shipment to its distillery to be turned into explosives. Right from the beginning, the enormous tank was cursed. It was put up quickly, with substandard sheet metal, it was never properly tested and when problems became evident, the company covered them up. Molasses ran down the sides of the tank inviting the poor neighborhood children to collect it in buckets. The company painted the tank rust brown to disguise the leaks. Workers heard shrieks and moans coming from inside the tank. People standing near the tank reported feeling the sides of the tank pulsing with the fermentation and gases inside. It was a disaster waiting to happen. 

On January 15, 1919, disaster happened. The tank failed in a spectacular way and all at once. Rivets shot like artillery fire, metal panels buckled and an explosion of 2.3 million gallons of molasses created a 15 foot tidal wave on Commercial Street. It slammed into buildings, cellars, people and animals burying everything in its path. A section of the sheet metal sliced through the supports of the elevated train track, collapsing it. Only quick thinking saved two operating trains from coming down with it.

The arrows point to the tank and the former Cooke home. the dots outline the extent of the molasses flood

Buildings were inundated or destroyed completely. Horses could not escape the sticky mess and had to be shot. Twenty-one people died either immediately or within the week. Many more were injured. A firehouse immediately next to the tank was lifted from its foundation and moved trapping several firefighters inside. Some people were swept into the frigid Charles River and not found for weeks. One child, who had been collecting firewood from the train track, was crushed by a train car and drowned in molasses.

These pictures are from the archives of the Boston Public Library. They tell the story best.

An overview of the area immediately after the disaster

Fireman attempting to rescue people- the Cloughty house, in the background was directly across the street from the tank. Maria Cloughty was crushed instantly

the collapsed train track with a combination of molasses and sea water underneath

My father would have been a baby at the time, but his twelve-year-old cousin Catherine, who was living with them on Mount Vernon Street would certainly have been aware.  I can't even imagine what that would have been like.

It took weeks of cleanup with salt water and fire hoses. That part of the North End was never the same. Today, the land is a park and ball field.  They say that even today, on a warm summer day, you can smell molasses on Commercial Street. A lawsuit ensued, of course, and the company tried to pin the incident on dynamite planted by anarchists. They were not successful and damages were awarded. Cold comfort to those who lost their means of support or lived in pain the rest of their lives.

The Great Molasses Flood has become a piece of Boston history, albeit a rather bizarre one. It was well documented in Dark Tide by Stephen Puleo. Laws were eventually strengthened to protect the public, but it was the court case that had the most lasting effect as Puleo points out in this video.

What brought this topic to mind was an explosion at an industrial plant in the middle of a residential neighborhood- right here in Houston. Some things just don't change.

The Story of Isaac D Fuller

Isaac D Fuller

Back when I was updating all the military record for my Ancestry tree, this photo popped up as a hint. "Ah, a terrible war injury", I thought. Isaac had enrolled in the Company A of the 30th Maine and served as a private. He enlisted in 1863 and mustered out in Savannah, Georgia in 1865. So, perhaps he was part of Sherman's march-to-the-sea.  The tag on the photo gave the name of the Ancestry member who originally uploaded the photo. So I messaged her and inquired about the photo.

Now Isaac D. Fuller is not a close relative. His mother was a Farrar. One of the Farrars married a Lowell whose child  in turn married a Smith. I descend from that marriage. But I love a good story and this photo just got to me. I was delighted when the person who uploaded it responded. Yes, she is his third great-granddaughter through one of his daughters. She knew the story. There has been an accident.

She told me what she knew.

In the meantime, other hints kept popping up for Isaac, for his four children and for his three wives. Isaac lived quite a life. Finally, recently, I decided to do a little looking again. From what this lady told me, the accident was quite the event. Surely it would have been covered in the local paper. Sure enough, I found this.

It was in the Oxford Democrat for the week following the accident.  To save your eyes I'll put the text below.

The Buckfield Celebration

A Sad Accident Throws a Gloom Over an Otherwise Happy Day

"At Buckfield, as at most places, the spirit of Independence commenced to assert itself early. In fact, very little sleep was in store for the inhabitants of the place on Friday night, but a most sad and painful accident occurred which cast a gloom and dampness over the ardor of everybody. While engaged in firing the sunrise salute, Isaac D Fuller, who was in charge of the artillery for the day, was the victim of an accident which cost him both his arms, if indeed he escapes with his life. Mr. Fuller had been loading and firing an anvil. He was loading for another shot, when the weapon discharged with a tremendous report knocking him senseless. It was found upon examination that Mr. Fullers arms were so badly shattered that it was necessary to amputate them, and that he had probably lost the use of one eye. Drs. Caldwell, Bridgham and Decoster were immediately called and performed the amputation. It was thought during the day that Mr. Fuller could not live, but he rested comfortably Saturday night and on Sunday walked a short distance, from one room to another. It is hoped that his eyes may be saved. Truman Damon also lost or came near to losing an eye by the same explosion. The theory of the accident is, that Mr. Fuller was loading and firing too fast,  not giving the anvil time to cool, and the untimely explosion caused by putting the powder into the hot weapon."

So Isaac survived two years on the battlefield only to come home and blow his arms off in a Fourth of July celebration. And then he survived even that! This is one tough character. Other articles popped up in the Democrat which painted an even more colorful portrait of Isaac.
Addendum:  I belong to a Civil War forum to mine information from the people there in reference to another relative. I asked them about what an "anvil" might be other than blacksmithing equipment.
The response was unbelievable.
"Anvil shoots have been a whacky form of entertainment going back centuries. The hollow space cast into the base of an anvil is filled with black powder. A second anvil is placed atop the other. Alternatively, the face of one anvil has an even layer of black powder laid on it. A second anvil, upside down, is placed atop the powder. From a (hopefully) safe distance the powder is ignited & ka-boom! An anvil weighing 100 pounds sails 100 or more feet into the air. This form of entertainment is still common today. Yes, it is wildly, absurdly, absolutely, insanely dangerous. The blacksmith forge I belong to raised money for a comrade who suffered traumatic amputation of some body parts in a premature detonation. I know this sounds crazy (my wife is rolling her eyes behind me as I type this). There really is something wildly entertaining about the improbable sight of an explosion & anvil shooting up out of a cloud of white black powder smoke. ('For some people, maybe.' says my sweetie.) Added to the thrill, of course, is that the ballistic qualities of an anvil make its eventual resting place a matter of conjecture only."

Should you care to browse old newspapers in search of your own relatives, Chronicling America has a wonderful resource here. I even had some success finding out more about Isaac using their advanced search function. This is one site I'll be visiting often.

Sometimes my curiosity just gets the better of me, but sometimes the results are worth it.

Black Sheep in My Tree

This is a brief post about a not-so-close relative who qualifies as a black sheep. (his wife would be my first cousin 8 times removed) Truly things don't change much over the years as you shall see.

Hannah Rogers (my cousin) was the granddaughter of Joseph Rogers who arrived on the Mayflower. Her mother was Elizabeth Snow.  She married Amaziah Harding in 1690.  The story is that he was a miller in Eastham. We know that he inherited Eastham land from his own grandfather, but details about Amaziah are hazy. Together Hannah and Amaziah had nine children. It was not, however, a happy marriage.

The date of the drama would seem to indicate that the pair were in their sixties or later. Certainly their children would have been grown.  This quote is from a book called Legal Executions in New England; a Comprehensive Reference:
"Amaziah Harding, white, age unknown, Murder. The crime was committed on July 18, 1733, at Eastham, Massachusetts, Amaziah Harding and his wife Hannah Rogers Harding (white, age unknown), had been locked in an abusive marriage for more than 20 years. The situation finally reached a climax on the above date when Mr. Harding beat his spouse to death. He then laid her body down upon their bed and carefully tucked it in with blankets because he wanted to make it look like she had died of natural causes. When Harding was satisfied that the scene looked convincing, he summoned a neighbor woman and told her that his wife has died. He also asked the woman to prepare the body for burial according to the local custom. When the woman removed the bedclothes preparatory to washing the body she saw numerous cuts and bruises on the decedent. This led the mortician woman to suspect foul play; she knew that Harding has been an abusive husband and she flatly refused to dress the body for burial until the coroner had been summoned. Harding scoffed at this and declared himself "well satisfied" that his wife was dead. When asked why he felt that way, he said that his wife "had been a plague to him". 

I have seen versions where he threw her down the mill stairs, etc. etc. but since the trial transcripts burned in a fire, this seems to be the most dependable account. The case was infamous even at the time. This appeared in the Boston Weekly Newsletter:
"We hear from Eastham on Cape Cod, That the beginning of last Week, amost barbarous Murder was committed there, on the body of one Mrs. Harding,suppos'd to be done by her own Husband Amaziah Harding; he having for agreat while before, as 'tis said, carried it very ill towards her, to theimparing of her Reason; and now being found in the Room alone with her,where she lay dead near him, with her Neck twisted and broke, and about herMouth and Throat much beat and bruis'd. The hard-hearted Man being thus surpriz'd, and charg'd with the Fact, by those who first discover'd it,endeavoured to put an end to his own Life, by stabing a Knife into hisBowels, which stroke not proving mortal immediately, he went to repeat it,aiming at his Breast, but was prevented by those about him, and on Fridaylast he was sent to Barnstable Goal."

All that strangling and stabbing! Grisly stuff.
And the trial even featured the testimony of the neighbor herself, Mary Freeman  and her daughter-in-law Hannah:
"Mary Freeman of Lawful age to give Evidence testifies [Information?] came hastily on or about the eighteen day of July 1733 and Informed me that my neighbor Maziah Hardings wife was Dead it being something surprising to me to hear so for I was informed by his son Corneilis less than one hour before that shee was well & in health whereupon I went immediately with my Daughter In Law Hannah Freeman to sd Maziah Hardings house & when I came there I met with sd Maziah Harding at the Door of his house I then asked him if his wife was Dead. He answered yes & he was glad of it whereupon I went in to sd Hardings house & there I saw his wives Dead body lay on a bed wrapped up in bed clothes & when I looked on her I saw a [proof?] on her cheek & on her throat & lip that the blood was jelled which seemed to me to be occasioned by some bruise or hurt. Then I asked sd Harding how his wife came so suddenly to her end whether he took notice shee had not been well. He answered shee was as well as shee used to be for ought hee knew & he sd shee had drunk her fill of Rum and sat on the Door sill & he laid on the bed & fell asleep & when he awoke he called for her but shee gave him no answer. Then he rose and went into the other Room and found her Dead on the bed. I took notice that sd Harding was in a strange frame and seemed to be disguised with Drink and often Repeated these words [to wit?]. Harding is a man shirt or no shirt every inch of him & he often Declared he was glad his wife was Dead. I reproved him and tould him I was sorry to hear him say so & asked him why he was glad of it. & sd Harding Replyed & sd because shee had been a Plague to him for above these twenty years past & he hoped now he should git somebody to keep his house clean & look after his things and many such like expressions. & sd Harding further sd his wife was now gone to paradise among the Royal breed & would be clothed in Robes of glory and many such like expressions. & then sd Harding was very urgent with me to help clean linen to bury his wife in & he would pay me for it & was very desirous that I would lay out his wife & sd he would help me to do it urging shee might be buried with all speed fore he sd shee was covered with lice, Rags & dirt. I told him I would not meddle with her nor advise any others till a Jurie had past upon her. Whereupon the sd Harding Replied & sd a Jurie, then sd he there will arise a Cursed Damnd Mobb & seemed to bee then something surprised & uneasy & [disembled?] and sd there was no occasion of a Jurie for others he named had died suddenly & no Jurie on them. Then I told him there was not the like occasion of a Jurie for others he named had died when several were present. Then he seemed to be more Restless in his mind & sd this id the fruite of mens wives taking their Neighbours parts against their husbands which has brought it to this & uttered many sensurious Reflections on his neighbors. "

It didn't take the jury long to render a verdict. It remains unclear whether the man was simply a chronic wife-beater or had snapped completely at age 63. I suppose it doesn't matter much.
"The Jurors of our Lord the King upon their oath present That Maziah Harding
of Eastham in the County of Barnstable aforesd Yeoman not having the fear of
God before his Eyes but being instigated by the Devil with force and arms and
of his malice forethought on the Eighteenth Day of July last at Eastham
aforesd and assault on the Body of Hannah his then wife and in the Kings peace
then being did make and then and there With force as aforesd then and there
Feloniously twisted the neck of the said Hannah and Dislocated the same, of
which the said Hannah then Instantly dyed so that the said Maziah Harding of
his malice prepense as aforesd Feloniously murdered the said Hannah his wife
Contrary to the Peace of our sd Lord the King his Crown and Dignity, and the
Law in that case made and provided Upon which Indictment the said Maziah
Harding being arraigned at the Barr pleaded not Guilty, and for trial put
himself upon God & Countrey, a Jury being sworn to try the issue between our
Sovereign Lord the King and the Prisioners Defense went out to Consider
thereof and returned their Verdict therein upon oath that is to say that the
said Maziah Harding is Guilty. Itfs therefore Considered and Ordered by the
court That the said Maziah Harding shall suffer the pains of death."

The coroner's findings and the testimony of the two Freeman women did the trick. Here's the end of the article in the Trials  article.
" Amaziah Harding was then charged with capital murder. A grand jury first indicted him and then a petit jury convicted him. A circuit judge sentences him to death. Amaziah Harding went to his doom reviled as an uxoricide. he swung from the gallows at Barnstable on June 5 1734."

An unrepentant Harding denied his guilt to the very end.

Charming Old Photos Tell Us the Family Story

Eugene H Rogers- Sign painter by trade, fine art painter by avocation

When I look at the old photos that people add to their trees, I can often tell so much about the person by looking at the expression or the body language. But what fascinates me are the really old photos where the pose is not a formal portrait in a studio, but something that shows a bit about a person's profession or home life or surroundings. 

Eugene didn't make his living as a fine art painter, but there's no doubt from this photo what his hobby was. Aside from the paintings, I can look at his clothing, the chair, the brocade wallpaper and the bare wood floor and tell something about the studio where he worked. I can also date this from 1880-1890 based more or less on the things I see.

Daisy Tapply Schaefer and her husband George

This picture show my grandmother's elder sister Daisy with her husband in a very early model of some sort of car. The very early Henry Ford Quadricycle was similar. From the clothes, I would say after 1900 but before 1910. She married George in 1902. 

Clyde Merton Keene- grocer

This is Clyde Merton Keene, whose grandmother was one of my Farrar relatives. I like that he is pictured in his grocer's apron complete with stains. I didn't notice until looking more closely, that he is in a wheelchair. Probably a story there.

Sidney Douglas Farrar

Sidney Douglas Farrar, another of my Farrar relatives,  played first base for the eight seasons for the Philadelphia Quakers and later for the Philadelphia Athletics. The left one is a studio shot, but the right photo is a real gem complete with a player in motion in the background.

Violet Louise Baldry

Violet Baldry was the half sister of some of my English Tapply relatives. My guess is this nurse's uniform dates from some time in the 1920's.

Helen F Harrod practices what she teaches

This photo obviously came from a newspaper article about Helen F Harrod. She was a music instructor at DePauw University.

Isaac Estill Harrod

Isaac Harrod lived and worked for the railroad in rural Kansas. This was a studio shot, but he's wearing his everyday clothes and I just love the dog in the picture. You get a real sense of him as a character in this photo.

Marie Tapply with Warren on her lap

This is my Aunt Marie, Bob Tapply's wife. I'm told this was taken in the old Tapply home at the top of  Pearl Hill Road. Again, look at the old stove, the china breakfront and the clothes. It gives this informal photo real character.

Francis Braedreck Rogers family

Here's the Francis B Rogers family in front of their home. Not only do you get a good look at the house, but each person in the picture is doing something a little different. You have the two children in front of the fence with their toys, the man by the steps reading, the couple posed by the hammock. I count no fewer than thirteen people in this clever photo. Rogers was my cousin through the Aaron Rogers line.

Belinda Cooke aka Sr. Mary Columbia

I have fewer photos from the Cooke side, but these two are gems. First my cousin the nun. A formal photo but in her full habit with what looks like a wreath of flowers circling her head.

Cooke home in Clooningan, Sligo, Ireland

This is the Cooke homestead. My guess would be in the 1920's. Again you get a sense of the place. Look at the thatched roof, the whitewashed walls, the bicycle propped by the gate. It's a little slice of a moment in time.

When we share our family histories with people who aren't passionate about genealogy, I think photos like these bring history alive- especially for the very young. I can think of a million questions a young person might ask when looking at these photos. What a teachable moment! And don't forget to document anything you might know or might have heard about the photos in the family album.  

If this topic interests you, check out Maureen Taylor's website here.

Putting the Clues Together- Research with David J Webb

As I teased in my last post, David Webb does an amazing job documenting old postcards of the Houston area. I asked him to describe his process because I thought it would be instructive in genealogy as well.  (David did his own family’s genealogy for years) The way he came to this project is interesting. In 2000, he began taking photography classes at the local museum school. As his skills grew, he moved own to his own curriculum, inspired by the photography of Bernice Abbott. David says, “I was intrigued by the power of these images to make history come alive.” And, after all, isn’t that what we do as genealogists? He had seen an exhibit of 1930’s images taken by Abbott and contemporary images of the same places. It started a small fire in his imagination.

At the time this began, David was a regular visitor to Galveston where he became infatuated with the Eaton Chapel adjacent to Trinity Episcopal Church. These are some of the oldest buildings in Galveston, having even survived the 1900 storm. David began taking photographs.

He was already collecting old postcards of Bisbee, Arizona, the place where he was born. Now he began purchasing old Galveston postcards as well. It was then that the project that became Houston Time Portal began to form.

Here is the story of Eaton chapel in David’s own words.

“Among the treasures of Galveston was Eaton Chapel adjacent to Trinity Episcopal Church. The chapel was built in 1879 by Nicholas Clayton as an act of philanthropy by Henry Rosenberg to honor Reverend Benjamin Eaton, first rector of Texas’ oldest Episcopal parish [well described in Galveston Architecture Guidebook, by Ellen Beasley and Stephen Fox, Rice University Press, 1996…… For a small building, Eaton Capel  has a commanding presence… The first floor of the building is devoted to classrooms, and the second floor is a lofty auditorium.

Eventually, I obtained several other postcards of Eaton Chapel, ones that  had been mailed and teased at a hidden history that begged to be riddled out. The most intriguing one was written by “K E K” to Miss Henrietta Morgan, Taylor, TX on 22 February 1908. The author revealed a lot of personality in his message, which he scrawled across the face of the card in blatant disregard for the image. Certain details promised a portal into the history of the man even though he used only his initials. “

David's photo of Eaton Chapel

Invariably this is how David proceeds. He will find the history of the building first, combing through old guidebooks and city histories. But being a genealogist at heart, he is equally intrigued by the messages on the cards. Who were these people? What connection did they have to this place?

Front and back of the card David purchased.

David continues by giving us the message on the card, 

“Society sure is doing in Taylor. You had better be glad that you are a society lady instead of a student who has to study Instead of running around having a good time. Exams are only two weeks off now and I have to get busy if I expect to pass them I know you will have a good time in Georgetown Danse one or two for me at the Mask Dance Tell Miss Stella hello for me. K. E. K. This is where I go Sunday? Mrs. Patric Campbell is billed to show here during exams isnt that a shame I think I will go see her in spite of the fact. Might never have the chance to see her again.”

So he looks carefully at the card for the clues to both the writer and the receiver….

And comes to a few conclusions about KEK. David says, 

“Most importantly, he mentions that “Exams are only two weeks off,” and since he posted the card from Galveston, it seemed likely that he was a student. He seems a bit flirty with his correspondent, Miss Henrietta calling her a “society lady,” and contrasting himself as “a student who has to study.” He urges Henrietta to “Tell Miss Stella hello for me,” and speaks of “Georgetown Danse,” all of which suggests he is a college student, and not a secondary school pupil.”

Now David has a dilemma. As a college student, how can he find this KEK? David’s solution is to turn to a city directory.

“As a student, he would be more transient than a resident might be, so a search within a narrow time range is essential. Galveston published a city directory for 1908, so an examination of the alphabetical K-section might turn up a student at the Galveston Medical School.  There are 11 pages of entries with about 80 persons per page, so only 880 possibilities to examine. K E K is probably male, nonetheless, females should also be noted: 

Kelly, Kate, Miss h 1414 Postoffice 

Killeen, Kate J. Miss r 2002 L. 

Kovocavich, Kirto, lab Mrs 3827 B’dway 

Krivokopich, Krist, r 1909 Mechanic 4. 

Krug, Kenny E. pharmacy student Mrs 828 Market 

The last seemed such a likely candidate that I looked no further, and focused on Kenny. The name was quite adequate now for a census search, but that might be only circumstantial, even if compelling.”

I might mention, at this point, that David has a research science background. He’s all about evidence and conclusive proof. So the next thing he looked for, given the time period, was a World War I draft card. There would be a signature. Can you see where this is going?

The strongest confirmation of his identity would be a comparison of his signature, and since K E K left a good record of his handwriting, another document with his signature might be definitive. He wrote another card to Henrietta on April 20, 1908, this one of Trinity Episcopal Church, similarly scrawled across the front, which I purchased in the same lot as the same as the first, and this he also signed, K E K. 

Kruger's draft card

When WWI started for Americans in 1917, all males of a certain age were required to register, and that document bears their signature. Although the cards were written nine years earlier, the signature should be fairly stable. “Kenneth Edwin Krug” of Brenham is described as medium height and weight with blue eyes and brown hair. His date of birth is 2 December 1887 and is 29 years old on June 6, 1917 in Brenham, Washington County, TX. He is a druggist with a wife and child, “crippled” from meningitis. The signature is a very good match, so with this handwriting comparison in addition to the biographical details, it is not likely that K E is a different person.”

Comparing the signatures

“Supporting this identification is all the usual genealogical records. In 1900 he is “Kenny Krug” an only child living with his father Adolph, a District Clerk, and mother E. D. in Brenham. Next door is C. J. Jensen, a druggist. In 1906 Kenny is listed on U. S. College Student Lists database, a druggist with Theo Schirmader, member of the Elks, living at 608 W. Alamo at Main in Brenham. The small family is there in 1910 also, at 608 West Alamo. In 1912 he married Myra Barnett, and had two sons, Kenneth Edwin, Jr. (1916), and Marion Estor (1919). He stayed in Brenham through the 1940’s at the same house. His son Kenny, Jr. was a Lieutenant in the Army Air Force in WWII, and died in service overseas on 29 February 1944. “

How did David do all this? Patience and a combination of the Federal Census, City directories, and draft information. Isn’t it amazing how this becomes a really accurate narrative of a person’s life?

Now David moves on to Henrietta. Again, a patient examination of census records, old directories and other public documents fleshes out her life. And he speculates on how they met, much as I did in the post about my great-grandparents.

“How Kenneth met Henrietta Morgan is suggested by the postcard messages. Henrietta was the eldest child of Sally Leda Pennington and Henry Julius Morgan, manager of a cotton compress in Temple, Bell County, TX. Brenham and Temple are medium sized towns in Central Texas about 93 miles apart. When Kenny wrote the postcards he was 20 years old. Henrietta was born 25 November 1890, so she was 17 when she received the cards. In February Kenneth mentions Georgetown Danse, which he says he will miss. Georgetown Is another mid-sized city in Central Texa, a college town about 40 miles south of Temple. From Brenham to Temple is only about 90 miles, and since trains then traveled mostly under 40 miles per hour, it was still only a couple of hours away. Of course, but carriage it was quite a trip, but that mode of transportation was mostly for local trips. Both seem to have been Episcopal, and they may have met through church groups, maybe especially those involving chaperoned dancing.   

Henrietta married Eugene Cecil Seaman in 31 January 1912 and settled into the routine of the wife of an Episcopal Minister. Eugene was the son of Sophie Seaman, a widow running a boarding house in Galveston to support her four sons in 1900 at 2002 Church Street. Eugene was a graduate of Sewanee, University of the South, and in due course became Bishop of North Texas in Amarillo, Potter County, TX.  

Kenny Krug died in 1950 of pulmonary embolus and was laid to rest in Prairie Lee Cemetery in Brenham. Three years later Myra died and is buried beside him; also in Prairie Lee are his father and mother, and son Kenny, Jr.. Henrietta Morgan Seaman became a widow in 1950 with the death of her husband; she died 21 years later in Phoenix and she and her husband are buried in Llano Cemetery in Amarillo, as is their 5-year old son, Eugene Cecil Seaman, Jr. (1913-1918) and her father, Henry Julius Morgan (1863-1929). “

 David concludes, 

“In addition to the black and white rephotograph of Eaton Chapel, I returned to Galveston on March 22-23 2019 and photographed Eaton Chapel again. 

The 14 years between the two rephotograph shows considerable growth of the palm trees, but no alterations of the chapel itself. “

So you can see what I mean about David’s amazing process. Simple genealogy for most of us, but he weaves a compelling narrative. David has meticulously purchased old postcards, many of Houston, gone to the spot where the building once stood(or may still stand), and rephotographed standing as nearly on the same spot as he can manage. Each pair has this same level of research.

You can find the Eaton Chapel pair here.

The main website is located here. 

For those of you Houston history fans or anyone who just loves history, this is a true rabbithole. Enjoy!  

So now comes the challenge to all of you. What kind of narration can you weave using the documents you have collected?  It’s “history come to life” that draws in the next generation of family genealogists. Get busy!

Picturing the Past- Another Resource for Genealogists Part I

As you can see, this is the town square of Spencer, Owen County, Indiana sometime in the late 30's or early 40's. (according to the database) I was noodling around again in Ancestry on the "newly added records" section which you find at the bottom of your home page. I found Historical Postcards. Of course I started entering names of places where I had large groups of ancestors right away. This is the best result I found. Spencer is the little town my great great grandmother, Letitia Ellen Johnson, came from.

You get some feeling for Spencer. The classic town square, the storefronts that must date from the 1800's, the memorial (probably a war memorial) in the square. It could be any little town in Texas just as easily. I've been to those little places. I turned it over to see what else I could learn.

What clues were here? Well Lyle and Charles are writing to "Eddie" or Edna in the fall of 1945. The war is over and they are visiting for some reason. The writing style is casual. These are youngish people.  Edna Madison (we think) lives in York, Pennsylvania. So I turned this little mystery over to my friend David Webb. He is a real postcard sleuth. We spent a couple of days going back and forth over this. Was the name really Madison? Could we find her? Were these guys friends? Relatives? Did they have a tie to Spencer? Alas it was, as David put it, a "dry hole". He pointed out that after WWII, the cards are harder to search. More mobility and in this case too few clues.

These folks aren't related to me in any way I know of, I just thought it would be an interesting puzzle to solve. David has a very specific method for researching old postcards and has had a fair bit of success. More about David, his search methods and his website in the next post. Stay tuned.

They Shall Not Grow Old

This is a post I had meant to make back in November or December, but the research involved overtook me. November was the 100th anniversary. You may have heard about Peter Jackson's new film They Shall Not Grow Old. It's a wonderful film, long overdue, paying tribute to the soldiers of World War I. The best part of  it is the fascinating technology involved in what Jackson did. He took old footage, colorized and cleaned it up and then sync'ed voices and dialogue with the film. The results are simply amazing. HERE is a sample. If you are interested in HOW he accomplished this, there is another bit on YouTube HERE. It's still out there in theaters and I urge you to try to see it.

What also interested me was the genealogical possibilities. Apparently that occurred to other folks as well.  Lisa Louise Cooke recently discussed the documentary portion at the end on the Genealogy Gems podcast.  After I saw the film I wondered just how many men in my tree HAD served in WWI. Now I have covered the service of my grandmother's brother, "Harry" Tapply,  in a previous post. But it took me almost three months to compile a complete list. Some are American, some are from the British side of my tree. Many times, if the name was too common, I couldn't verify the service; there may be some omissions. Some of the older British soldiers served in the domestic "service corps" and some of the Americans in the Coast Guard. However, this is the list I came up with.

Right around 70 men in my tree served. Some gave their lives. I decided NOT to distinguish that here. Service is service. When I think about the men in Jackson's film telling their stories (he used old recordings from the British War Archives) I wonder what my relatives would tell us. I'll bet the stories would be fascinating.

Resuming the Story of W. B. Rogers

General Ambrose Burnside

If you know your American Civil War history, you know that General Burnside has by now assumed command of Union forces after McClellan failed to act. Wikipedia yielded some very interesting material about Ambrose Burnside. He was left at the altar by a woman who later became a notorious Confederate spy. He served in Congress and as a state governor. Of course, this is not why all of us remember him. He was noted for his unusual facial hair joining  his mustache to the hair on the sides of his head. These became known at the time as "burnsides" but later the syllables were reversed. We call them "sideburns".
W. B. and his comrades are on the march. They know something is coming, but not quite what. He mentions "chasing the Rebs", which was what they were doing. I'm wondering if the miniatures he mentions were what was in the little "fairy book" I no longer have. It was full of photos, but not one had any writing on it to identify the people.

Camp Forbes       Near Waterford Virginia          Oct 31/62

Dear Wife

I will write a few more lines. I am well today. We marched from the camp where I wrote last the day before yesterday. We started about one o’clock and marched until after dark and camped until morning and then we marched across the road, a low road where we are now. We may be called to march again. We have to be ready to march at any moment. The whole army seems to be on the move and no one knows where we are going or what is to be done except the highest officers. There is a great army moving into Virginia. The regiment that Doc Rood is in is located near. I saw him yesterday to speak to him. I saw him in our camp this morning. He looked rather feeble. He is going to resign. The Holden boys are well except A Tucker. He has not been very well since we left home. I heard that Wm Perry was dead and so they fall one after another. There has been one who died in our Company the three in our regiment but the health of our regiment has been pretty good considering our exposure. Capt. Bailey was left behind sick and Col. Bowman was left behind sick but has come up with the regiment but he is not able to do duty. I feel very anxious to hear from you. It has been a week since I had a letter. This is the third one. I have written since I received one. We have not been able to get that box yet, but hope to soon. We heard that all things sent my express were stopped at Washington without an order from the Quarter Master of each regiment. We have sent an order and presume it is at Harper’s Ferry now and it may be forward the next time our train goes there. I shall be very glad to get them although I have not suffered much yet for the want of the things. It is very pleasant weather again but it begins to look like autumn and will soon be cold if we don’t go south. I suppose you begin to think about Thanksgiving. I wish I could be

At home I think I could raise my heart to God with thanksgiving. Clapp talks of coming home to spend Thanksgiving. Oh if I could see you and the children it would be a great cause for Thanksgiving. I can but think that I shall be permitted to come back to you before many months but God only knows but it is the greatest comfort I have at present to receive a letter from you. I hope all my friends will grant me that comfort. O dear wife write all the particulars just how you feel and how are you getting along. I know your burdens are very great and perhaps I done wrong in leaving you so but I hope God will sustain you. No man has left more behind. I have not much news to write that is interesting. Old Virginia is a beautiful country. It is excellent soil if it could be cultivated by some New England men it would be the most beautiful country that could be imagined but the effects of War are terrible upon every thing in this vicinity. I must bid you good bye for it is getting time for a dress parade. May God’s blessing rest upon you Dearest Wife.

                                                                                                W B Rogers

Camp Forbes    Virginia                                                                                  Nov 4 /62

Dear Wife

We are on the march again. I have a few moments and thought I would improve it by writing to my dearest earthly friend. We have marched some 25 or 30 miles the last two days. I have born the march pretty well. One knee troubles me some. Other ways I am well. We have to lay down on the cold ground with nothing but our blankets to cover us but I sleep pretty well. We have not had any fighting yet. The cannons were heard all day the day before yesterday. We passed where the fighting was yesterday and saw the effects. I understand there was not many killed. The Rebs have retreated and we are following after them. We are within ten or twelve miles of Manassas Gap. Going that way it is verry pleasant weather. It begins to look like autumn. We have cold frosty nights. I have not received a letter from you for some time. I received Joel’s and Ann’s letter. Oh how wish I could be there to see them with you all but am denied that privilege so I send my love to them. Tell them I have often thought of them as I have been wandering among the mountains and hope I shall have their prayers that I may be a faithful soldier of the cross. It is my greatest fear that I shall not be faithful to Christ and his cause. The big guns begin to bang away again at a distance this very moment so I suppose we shall have to be on the trot again very soon. Oh the folks at home don’t know the first about a soldier’s life. The most that I can say is come and try it. There are few men I wish could have just one month’s experience. I hope it will end some day not far distant but the Lord only knows when. Tell Eugene I see Gen Burnside quite often. I saw him twice yesterday. He is a fine looking man. Cap’t Hall was riding in his staff. He is quite popular with the big men. I understand he has been promoted, but don’t know what position he holds but I think he is a smart man. I see Doc’t Rood most every day but I would give more to see the dear faces at home than all the world beside but I have to be satisfied with thinking of them at present and feeling that I am remembered by them. We have not been able to get that box yet and I presume we shall not as we are going away from railroad communication but it is no fault of those dear friends at home. Our quartermaster sent an order to Washington to have them forwarded and sent by the teams to Harper’s Ferry but did not find them. Tell Joel I will see that he has his pay for what he payed the express man. Tell sister Emaline that I was very glad to get a few lines from her. I could imagine just how she looked with Eugene and Ned by her side. Oh if I could see those dear little faces. Tell Warren and Almira to write to me. I saw a letter that sister Almira wrote to Merril Rogers a few days ago. Anything from home seem precious to me. Give my love to Dear Mother and all Brothers and Sisters. The Holden boys are all pretty well. I see Stephen occasionally. Calvin has got back again with us. I have not much news that is important and must stop writing. Write often and I may get them sometime.

Good Bye Dearest

W.B. Rogers

"There are few men I wish could have just one month’s experience. " I thought this was a very telling sentence. W. B. seems like a very kind-hearted sort. This is the first expression of anything resembling bitterness. I love his note to Eugene about General Burnside. Apparently the general caught the popular imagination quite quickly.

Camp Forbes Near Fredericksburg, Virginia                Nov 22/62

Dear Wife,

I have been trying to get a chance to write for a week past but we have been marching so that I have not been able to do so I received your letter and miniatures the night before we started our march. It has been a forced march of from ten to twenty miles a day. Oh Dearest Wife what a treasure those miniatures are. Perhaps you might think me weak but I had a good cry over those dear faces. Oh how I love those familiar features and the Dear little one. How pretty. Shall I ever see him. God only knows. I am in his hands and he is merciful and that is my only hope. He has watched over me and given me health and I feel to raise my heart to him with praise. I am well today and all the Holden boys as far as I know. Tucker has got pretty well again.

(missing page?)some money. I am in hopes they will pay us before long ad I will send you all I think I shall not need. Geo. Davis has a letter from Mrs. Rawson and Emmer and they said you was well Emereth was a little more comfortable. Oh dearest wife it makes me sad to see how careworn and pale and sad you look in the miniature, but I thank you again and again for them. I did not think you was a part of my life and soul so much as I have felt it since I have been separated from you. I feel that we are one. Surely oh Dearest I was not aware that love was so deep and those little ones are bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh and my most earnest prayer is for you Dearest ones. Give me love to Dear Mother and all friends. Pray for me as ever I shall for you.

W. B. Rogers

Camp Forbes in sight of Fredericksburg, Virginia                                Nov 28 /62

Dear Wife

I do not feel very well this morning and I thought it would be the best medicine I could get her to have a little talk with you. Oh my Dearest Wife you cannot imagine how seriously I think of you and pray for you and our Dear children. You are all of life to me. If it was not for you Dear ones I should have no desire to live but I am in the hands of a merciful God and I feel to say his will be done but I do feel my little family is all I care for in this world. Yesterday was Thanksgiving in old Mass. And I was with you all but this poor body and I felt thankful to think that perhaps you could have something comfortable for Thanksgiving. I would not care for the feast if I could have been at home with you. I went to the Doctor for the first time yesterday …but I hope it is for the best. There is one Rebel camp in sight across the river and our pickets and theirs talk with each other. We have expected to have a fight here but haven’t seen any yet and don’t believe we shall at present but I don’t pretend to know anything about it. There are ten thousand camp stories going all the time but I don’t pretend to believe any of them. I wish this war could be brought to a close but want to see Slavery killed at any rate if it takes seven years and feel that God will in his wisdom bring it about sooner or later. What other permanent peace we can expect. I don’t want to see this thing botched up so that my Boys if they should live would have to take my place in the tented field. I feel there is a great deal at stake and I hope it will be settled.

(the rest of this letter appears lost)

Odd to me that he mentions Thanksgiving several times. The popular idea is that it wasn't celebrated until 1863 when Lincoln declared a national day of thanksgiving. Apparently, some people were already celebrating this, since W.B. not only mentions it twice, but capitalizes it. Of course, when you look at the date and the location of this last letter, you know what's about to happen. W. B. seems resolved to do what he must: 
"I wish this war could be brought to a close but want to see Slavery killed at any rate if it takes seven years and feel that God will in his wisdom bring it about sooner or later. What other permanent peace we can expect. I don’t want to see this thing botched up so that my Boys if they should live would have to take my place in the tented field. I feel there is a great deal at stake and I hope it will be settled."  These sentences sum it all up about as neatly as anyone could. It was true during the Revolution. It was true during the Civil War. And today, if you ask anyone in our military, I'm sure they could make a similar statement. My ancestor's resolve is an inspiration to me and should be to us all. Never shirk from doing the good and decent thing, even when it is difficult.