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Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Valentine: #52ancestors



Arthur and Mary Flynn, together with their children:
Lester, Nellie, Sadie and William. ca. 1910.
I generally don't think of my ancestors as romantics. Pragmatic, yes; romantic, no. Life was hard and it has always seemed to me people needed to focus the majority of their energy on just getting by. My people anyway. They were farmers and tradesman and day-laborers. Romance was for the wealthy.

Yet, my great-great-great grandparents Arthur Flynn and Mary Clarissa Calhoun were married on Valentine's Day, 1865. The end of the Civil War which had gripped the nation for four long years was still several months away. It was winter – in between harvest and planting – a season when many farmers found time to marry. It was a Tuesday. So, why get married on that particular day? Maybe it was due to a touch of romance!

Mary was the oldest of ten children in a family with deep New England roots in Connecticut. Arthur had emigrated from Ireland less than a decade earlier. Their romance already seemed a bit improbable. Although the newspaper notice above from the Hartford Daily Courant (Friday, February 17, 1865, pg 2) provides scant information, a few more details about their wedding can be found in a volume of reminiscences, Litchfield County Sketches, by Rev. Newell Meeker Calhoun. Newell was Mary's brother and his book provides many insights into their family life. It was hard work, but it wasn't all work, as I discovered.

Adele Anais Toudouze.
Wedding fashion, 1865.
Newell described the farm where the Calhoun children grew up in Morris, Connecticut in great detail. The kitchen which was the heart of the home, even then, where the children stood in the large fireplace in the summer months to view the stars above. Where on winter nights the family sewed hooks and eyes onto cards to make extra money. There were two parlors; one a sitting room for receiving friends and the other which was "only opened on state occasions."

In that state parlor, Newell writes, "were a funeral and a wedding, when a son went away to the home prepared for him and a daughter to make one for herself." The funeral was that of younger brother, Willie, who died in 1863 of encephalitis, just a month shy of his 7th birthday. The wedding was Mary and Arthur's. Although no picture of their wedding day survives, the photograph above of Arthur and Mary and their four children is a testament to their enduring marriage. Mary died in Nebraska, at the home of her daughter Nellie, after a long illness in 1910. Arthur lived until 1921. They are buried together at Rose Hill Cemetery in Shenandoah, Iowa, where they moved after their marriage.

I'd love to think that they both had a little bit of poetry in their soul and their choice of wedding date was very deliberate, indeed! Happy Valentine's Day! And happy anniversary to Mary and Arthur, married 153 years ago, today.

Monday, February 12, 2018

Favorite Name: Mehitabel

Hitty, her first hundred years by Rachel Field.
New York, Macmillan Co., 1929.
Week 6 of 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks prompts us to write about a favorite name. My family tree is dotted with several names over and over. John and Nicholas; Mary and Margaret are just a few of the most common. While their individual stories are interesting, their names... not so much. I do have a Missouri and a few presidents and an ancestor whose second wife was named Cinderella. But none of those particularly inspired me for this week's post.

I have always been intrigued by Puritan virtue names like Patience and Prudence. Sadly, I don't have have any of them either. I do, however, have a Mehitable! I loved that old-fashioned name long before I discovered I had one in my family tree. The name Mehitabel was popular during the colonial period when many Protestant children were given names from the Old Testament. The name is Hebrew for "God rejoices."

When I was growing up I read any books I could get my hands on about adventurous girls like Caddie Woodlawn and Laura Ingalls and friends Betsy, Tacy and Tib. Another favorite was the story of Hitty  short for Mehitabel –  a wooden doll whose story begins in Maine in 1820. The book follows Hitty's adventures over the course of a century after she becomes separated from her original owner, Phoebe, as passes through many hands.

Hitty's story won the Newbery Medal for excellence in American children's literature for author Rachel Field in 1930, which is timely as the Newbery awards for 2018 are being selected this week! My fondness for these adventure stories has continued well into adulthood. I know I am not the only one as new opportunities to engage with these stories have presented themselves such as the recent publication of the highly acclaimed Prairie Fires, a biography of Laura Ingalls Wilder. While I don't know enough about my Mehitable to write a full paragraph, let alone a 625-page biography, I'll continue to revisit Hitty and my other old friends and think of one of my favorite names on my family tree.



Friday, February 2, 2018

In the Census: Triple Play!


"Keep to the right and blow your horn!"

That was the refrain my grandmother and her siblings chanted as they made their way west from Idaho along the Columbia River Gorge via historic U.S. Route 30. This week's 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks prompt is "In the Census". I knew the Smith family had visited my great grandfather's hometown of Ukiah, California, when my grandmother was young but the census unexpectedly helped pinpoint the dates for one trip.

I had previously located the Smith family in 1920 living in Twin Falls, Idaho, exactly where I expected them to be. Curiously, they were enumerated twice on the same page, in two different handwritings. One entry was crossed out, so the enumerators realized their mistake. The basic details of the two entries are all pretty accurate, and consistent, but there are a few discrepancies. Son Ralph's middle name is recorded as Hanson by one enumerator and correctly as Haven by the other. Daughter Lois Margaret's name is half right and half wrong in both enumerations! 

Fourteenth Census of the United States, 1920. Twin Falls Ward 2, Twin Falls, Idaho. 
NARA T625-295; Enumeration District 296, Page: 17B; Line: 54; Arthur Clinton Smith. 
Ibid, line 66.
The surprise was also finding the family at 512 Arizona Avenue in Santa Monica, California. There was no question this was the right family as the names and details are incredibly consistent with the two Idaho enumerations. But Santa Monica? My Idaho-born-and-raised grandmother never mentioned living in California!

Fourteenth Census of the United States, 1920. Santa Monica, Los Angeles, California. 
NARA T625-116; Enumeration District 600, Page: 4B; Line: 84; Clinton A. Smith.
As it turns out, it's all in the details. Isn't it always? One important detail to note was the federal census was conducted on January 1st in 1920. Another was that Arthur's mother, Mary Osborn(e) is listed with the family in all three enumerations. Sometime after finding the Smith family in California, the Idaho Statesman newspaper became available online for the time period I was interested in. I searched every name permutation I could think of for the extended Smith family in search of little tidbits to help add detail to my family's story. The discovery of the following two news items finally brought the whole census mystery into focus!

The Idaho Statesman, November 19, 1919, pg. 11.
The Idaho Statesman, February 25, 1920, pg. 6. 

Clearly, the Smith family wasn't in Idaho at the time of the census. But it was understood they were returning to their permanent home. The timing was just right, however, for them to be recorded at their temporary winter address in California. If it wasn't for the census, these news items might not have captured my attention, thus solving the mystery of the three enumerations!

Hidden Mothers and Hellion Fathers

Scene from Meeting of Minds (1977-1982), 
with Jayne Meadows, as Catherine The Great.
If you're of a certain age you might remember a TV-series which aired on PBS from 1977-1982, hosted by Steve Allen, called Meeting of Minds. In it, actors played characters in history brought together for a conversation about a variety of topics. This week's prompt, "Invite to Dinner" for 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks is the ancestral version!

Of course, when given the opportunity to question a long-gone ancestor, most of us immediately think of those people who are the brick walls in our family tree. With that in mind, I made a list of several people I would love to have the opportunity to ask a few questions of.

Hidden Mothers


Tracing our female ancestors can be such a challenge before civil registration was required. Women were all-too-often invisible. Here are a couple such women I would like to have a sit-down chat with:
  1. Mariam Williams Kirkendall (ca. 1822- ??)
    Married at 16 to Robert Kirkendall in Wisconsin in 1838, Mariam disappears following their divorce in 1849. Their divorce records are the stuff of headline news today, both sides alleging infidelity, drunkenness and more. Indicative of the time, custody of their children was awarded to their father. Curiously, she is mentioned as Robert's first wife in his obituary but her fate after 1850 remains a mystery.
  2. Mary Grainger Keely Johns (1834-1871)
    For many years Mary was one of those dead-end branches of my family tree. Family stories suggested that she was married before she married my ancestor, Daniel Teats Johns. No one knew, however, if Keely was her maiden name or that of her first husband. Turns out it was the name of her former husband, but many other questions about her life still remain.
  3. Catherine Thomas Younker (1834-1912)
    Wikipedia: Hidden mother photograph

    When did Catherine arrive in the United States? Born in Gilsa, Germany, Catherine and her siblings were orphaned at an early age. How and why did she make her way to Illinois after her arrival? So many questions, so few answers.

Hellion Fathers

  1. Cuyler Shults (1831–1917)
    By far the most irascible of my ancestors, Cuyler murdered his neighbor and was sentenced to hang. His sentence was eventually commuted by the governor of Nebraska due to his advanced age. The trial transcripts suggest a tense relationship with his neighbor, Jamie Farr, but is that the whole story? Inquiring minds what to know!
  2. Willie Henry Younker (1894-1929)
    Family tradition has it Willie telegrammed his then-wife Meda with the news he wanted a divorce while she away was visiting her family. He neglected to mention another woman was expecting his child. He died just days after his 34th birthday, so the opportunity to get any answers from him directly was lost when his children were still quite young.  
  3. Owen Flynn (ca. 1795-ca. 1864)
    Okay, truth be told, I don't know for certain Owen was a bad guy. But he is the only one of my immigrant ancestors who decided to forego the opportunities of the New World and return to his homeland. Wouldn't you love to know what it was about America he didn't like enough to make returning to Ireland seem like the better idea? 
Curiously, every one of these ancestors is on my father's side of the family. He didn't find it all that amusing when I told him there was a murderer in the family, however. In typical dry, droll Dad fashion, his response was "Why don't you find people like this on your mother's side of the family?" Good question, Dad! I would love for the opportunity to find out the answer, if only I could sit down to dinner with one, or all, of these ancestors!

Sunday, January 21, 2018

Longevity: Mary Aretha Johns and Lester Arthur Flynn

The Nebraska State Journal.
Sunday, April 2, 1939, pg. D6.
This week's #52ancestors prompt is longevity. Of course, a long life is what immediately comes to mind for most people when they think of longevity. It also refers to a long continuance, or permanence and durability.1

Not many of my ancestors had longevity, in the traditional sense. Oh, there were plenty who lived well into their eighties, and just a few into their nineties. None, that I have encountered so far, that broke the century mark!

So, my thoughts turned in a different direction to long and durable marriages. Mary Aretha Johns and Lester Arthur Flynn immediately came to mind because of this wonderful newspaper account I found in a Nebraska newspaper. It detailed so many extended family members who had gathered for a fiftieth-anniversary celebration for Mary and Lester in 1939. Of course, it also perpetuated a few errors, as well!

For many years this newspaper article was as close to a possible marriage date for Mary and Lester I was able to get. Eventually, the actual marriage record would be added to Ancestry.com's collection.Seeing the record solved a long-standing mystery, namely where the name of Mary Keely had originated for Mary's mother. Unfortunately, Keely was not Mary's mother's maiden name, but it would take years, serendipity and the intersection of several people's research to confirm it was actually Grainger.
Marriage record for Lester Arthur Flynn and Mary Johns, 23 March 1889, Seward, Nebraska.
The other reason Mary and Lester quickly came to mind, is the wonderful pair of bookend photographs I have of them that illustrate that fifty-year span. I don't know the exact date of the photo on the left, but it was likely fairly early in their marriage. The photo on the right is Mary and Lester in 1939. Within a couple of years of their Golden Anniversary, Mary and Lester would move to California to be nearer to their son, Arthur. Mary died in 1945 and Lester in 1951.3,4 Both are buried at Forest Lawn Memorial Park, in Glendale, one of the first cemeteries to the stars!






















References:
  1. Merriam-Webster Dictionary: longevity.
  2. Nebraska, Marriage Records, 1855-1908. Ancestry.com. 
  3. Mary Aretha Johns Flynn, 1871-1945. Find A Grave.com.
  4. Lester Arthur Flynn, 1866-1951. Find A Grave.com.

Sunday, January 14, 2018

Favorite Photo: #52ancestors

With Lois Smith Ney, about 1967.
Just one week into the 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks and I am convinced this week's prompt will be the most difficult one for the entire year... write about a favorite photo. 

I have been agonizing and overthinking this for a week. Regardless of what photo I considered I finally realized the theme was the same... the importance of my grandparents to my childhood. Both sets of grandparents lived in the then-small town where my parents met and graduated from high school, bisected by the Northern Pacific railroad. Of course, who exactly lived on the wrong side of the tracks is another question.

According to MapQuest their homes were 1.5 miles apart. In some respects, however, it might have been a million miles. My paternal grandparents were eminently practical, while my maternal grandparents were decidedly less so. They differed in other ways too, Lutheran vs. Catholic, for starters. Yet all four provided indelible memories for their grandchildren. Each was creative in their own way. My paternal grandmother cocooned us, literally, with a steady stream of afghans and sweaters. Her love was expressed through food; mashed potatoes, pot roast and an inventive array of jello salads which contained everything from shredded carrots to marshmallows. My grandfather, a welder by trade, did woodworking and metal work and a variety of other hobbies that used his extensive ability to repurpose just about anything. He also painted; landscapes in particular. A picture of cows on a wooded path that hung in their living room is one of the first things I think of when I think of their tiny house, originally just 20x20 feet.

My maternal grandmother, in my opinion, could do just about any creative thing she set her mind to in my opinion. A masterful seamstress, she sewed beautiful clothes. She made me a treasured dollhouse filled with hand-painted furniture. She was less interested in housekeeping, however, and all that entailed. Summer visits with her meant I could eat Pop-Tarts for dinner. We got our ears pierced together when I was about 13, despite my mother's veto. It was years before I understood her vacuum was a Kirby, not named Kirby. By then it was too late, I had taken to naming things like cars -- Ernie -- and a variety of other inanimate objects. My grandfather was the life of the party, too much so for many years. But from him, I learned it's never too late to change and one can reinvent yourself in your third act. He and my grandmother were both crazy for Christmas. Their living room was the site of many Christmas dinners with a table created from plywood over sawhorses to make room for everyone... including my paternal grandparents despite the fact neither set quite approved of the other!

So, despite the fact, there are a number of photographs I could have chosen, the one I ended up with is a picture of me with my maternal grandmother taken when I was about 3. But really it is representative of a number I could have chosen. The roads all lead the same place, however, back to that small town where so many of my childhood memories reside. All my love and gratitude to Darlene and Bob, and Lois and Nick, for being quintessential grandparents, each in your own unique way. You are missed.

Sunday, January 7, 2018

Start: #52ancestors

Rhoda Ellen Cryder Smith (and friend)
1886-1972
Fifty-two ancestors in 52 weeks.

That's the mission should you choose to accept it. Well, I do! Just one week into the new year, I am already feeling like this year will be especially busy, so why take this on now? Have you ever noticed you're more productive and efficient the busier you are? Well, that definitely applies to me when I don't have time to procrastinate! So, whether it is in spite of -- or inspired by -- an already busy year I have added Amy Johnson Crow's 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks challenge to my list of goals for this year.

What is 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks, you may be thinking. To quote Amy it is "a series of weekly prompts to get you to think about an ancestor and share something about them. The guesswork of "who should I write about" is taken care of." The prompt for Week 1 is "Start." I didn't have to ponder this for more that a second or two before decided to start with how I got started with genealogy in the first place.

My family moved quite a bit as I was growing up and maybe longing for a "place" contributed to what made genealogy interesting to me, but the truth is I was intrigued by my ancestors before I even knew the word genealogy. I was fortunate live near both sets of grandparents when I was very young. My favorite pasttime when visiting my maternal grandmother was to get out an old suitcase full of photographs and pore over them, asking "Who's this?" "Where was this?" and many other questions. For me, that suitcase contained a treasure more precious than gold or rubies. 

Oregon Sentinel (Jacksonville, OR).
24 July 1886, pg. 2.
Later we had moved to a state that was experiencing a lot of unwelcome migration from other parts of the country. The state was issuing a ceremonial certificate for "natives" and my 5th grade teacher suggested we do that as part of a school project. Not having been born in that state, I wasn't eligible and I went home and complained about this to my mother. Now, whatever gene I inherited that made me interested in my ancestors, skipped a generation because my mother does not share this passion. She did, however, know that my great grandmother had been born in that state and encouraged me to ask my "native" classmates how many of them could make that claim. That was a much smaller group and made me feel better about having a nomadic childhood. I still had roots! 

Galvanized by this tidbit of information, I was prompted to write to a great uncle who sent me a hand-drawn family tree. Suddenly names of people I'd never met were connected to me on a chart. It would be another decade, however, before I was able to pursue genealogy in a more dedicated way. After graduating from college, one of my dearest friends, Monika, and I decided to take a genealogy class together. This was long before the internet, so every Tuesday evening, fortified by dinner at Arby's first, we decamped to the local Family History Center to do research using microfilm we'd borrowed from the Family History Library in Salt Lake City. Suddenly all those faces from the old suitcase and names from the hand-drawn tree began to come into focus. I was on my way!