Monday, March 15, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Tombstone Tuesday
Apparently on Tuesday's genealogy bloggers like to post about tombstones. You supposed to upload a picture of a gravestone and tell it's story. I'll give it a try.
This is the gravestone for Truman Bovee, my great-grandfather George Bovee's youngest brother who died in a tragic accident.
Now let's be honest, this thing is hideous! But it's undeniably eye-catching. I went to the cemetery in Fairchild, WI in December and as you can see it was blanketed in at least a foot of snow. Any row markers were covered and I had started to despair that I would find anything.
And then I spotted this monstrosity. I couldn't help but look at it and to my delight I saw the name Bovee. Below the name is a short poem that touchingly expresses the awful pain his family must have felt at his loss. To the left I found the graves of his parents, both buried in the snow. I dug them out with the ice scraper from my rental car. And to the right was a tiny little grave marker for Hiram Cornell Bovee, George Bovee's little son who died just days after birth.
My great-great grandparents, a lost son and a lost grandson. I don't think cemeteries are by nature grim and mournful places. I like to think of myself as being not among the dead but among the living, for their lives feel very real to me and I know they're not truly gone. But in this place it was hard not to feel sorry and a little sad.
This is the gravestone for Truman Bovee, my great-grandfather George Bovee's youngest brother who died in a tragic accident.
Now let's be honest, this thing is hideous! But it's undeniably eye-catching. I went to the cemetery in Fairchild, WI in December and as you can see it was blanketed in at least a foot of snow. Any row markers were covered and I had started to despair that I would find anything.And then I spotted this monstrosity. I couldn't help but look at it and to my delight I saw the name Bovee. Below the name is a short poem that touchingly expresses the awful pain his family must have felt at his loss. To the left I found the graves of his parents, both buried in the snow. I dug them out with the ice scraper from my rental car. And to the right was a tiny little grave marker for Hiram Cornell Bovee, George Bovee's little son who died just days after birth.
My great-great grandparents, a lost son and a lost grandson. I don't think cemeteries are by nature grim and mournful places. I like to think of myself as being not among the dead but among the living, for their lives feel very real to me and I know they're not truly gone. But in this place it was hard not to feel sorry and a little sad.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Mad Men
BBC is showing Mad Men Series 3. This is the best thing on telly in the US, but we don't have it at my apartment so I missed the last series. This means I don't have to wait 6 months for it come out on DVD. Or buy it from iTunes. I can watch it for free on iPlayer. Which I paid for. Whatever. Bravo BBC!!
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Century old mystery solved
I hold in my hand the smoking gun! Actually it’s a printout of a marriage at the Montreal Salvation Army 1936, so a metaphorical, genealogical smoking gun. But no less exciting.
My 2x great-grandfather Arthur Woodcroft disappeared. He was in Luton in 1906 when his daughter Beatrice married Thomas Dellar, but by the 1911 census he is gone. The story that has come down through the family is that he legged it to Canada with his new son-in-law’s sister, Flora May Dellar. Think about it...that would be pretty scandalous even now. According to her niece, Auntie May was a tall, attractive and vivacious woman, one of the renowned, or rather notorious, Dellar sisters of High Town (more on them later). May is pictured below (center) as a bridesmaid at the wedding of her elder sister.
The other half of the story is that a woman name Edith Summerton showed up in the fifties claiming to be Arthur and May’s daughter. Visiting from Montreal, she said she wanted to get to know her family. She visited England once or twice and then lost touch again. What exactly became of Arthur and May has remained a mystery and Auntie Madge has repeatedly expressed a desire to learn the truth before she passes on. Mum has been searching for Arthur for 40 years, and in the last few years I too have joined the hunt. We want to do right by Auntie Madge, and of course, solve the mystery. Mum mentions Arthur all the time, and I’ve tried several searches but always came up empty handed. Until yesterday that is.
I had a hunch in the bath (such a great place to think) that I needed to look again, this time for Edith’s husband, Nelson Summerton. New records come online every day, and up popped my marriage record, on the 6th of May, 1936 at the Montreal Salvation Army, a Nelson Summerton married Edith Marion Dellar Ward, daughter of Albert Ward and Flora May Ward. Edith Marion Dellar W. and Flora May W. are a dead give away. Albert Ward is a pseudonym (same initials as Arthur Woodcroft), no wonder we couldn’t find him, the crafty so and so.
We had figured he must have travelled to Canada under an assumed name, and as soon as I put this new name into a search of ship’s passengers I came up with Albert Ward, 45 year old straw hat manufacturer (the ubiquitous Luton profession), who sailed on the Corinthian for Montreal in Nov 1909. May must have followed on shortly after as she is living with him as his “wife” on the Canadian census for 1911.
So the stories were true, and Edith Summerton was, as she claimed, Madge’s cousin. Of course there’s more to find. Did Arthur/Albert and May actually marry (making Arthur officially a bigamist, not just a bit of a scoundrel)? Were/are there more Canadian cousins? And why did he choose the pseudonym Ward? Beatrice Woodcroft's daughter Doris Dellar, my grandmother, became a Ward when she married; it’s my mother’s maiden name. But Doris wasn’t even born when Arthur and May ran off together. It’s just a funny little coincidence. Right?
My 2x great-grandfather Arthur Woodcroft disappeared. He was in Luton in 1906 when his daughter Beatrice married Thomas Dellar, but by the 1911 census he is gone. The story that has come down through the family is that he legged it to Canada with his new son-in-law’s sister, Flora May Dellar. Think about it...that would be pretty scandalous even now. According to her niece, Auntie May was a tall, attractive and vivacious woman, one of the renowned, or rather notorious, Dellar sisters of High Town (more on them later). May is pictured below (center) as a bridesmaid at the wedding of her elder sister.
The other half of the story is that a woman name Edith Summerton showed up in the fifties claiming to be Arthur and May’s daughter. Visiting from Montreal, she said she wanted to get to know her family. She visited England once or twice and then lost touch again. What exactly became of Arthur and May has remained a mystery and Auntie Madge has repeatedly expressed a desire to learn the truth before she passes on. Mum has been searching for Arthur for 40 years, and in the last few years I too have joined the hunt. We want to do right by Auntie Madge, and of course, solve the mystery. Mum mentions Arthur all the time, and I’ve tried several searches but always came up empty handed. Until yesterday that is.
I had a hunch in the bath (such a great place to think) that I needed to look again, this time for Edith’s husband, Nelson Summerton. New records come online every day, and up popped my marriage record, on the 6th of May, 1936 at the Montreal Salvation Army, a Nelson Summerton married Edith Marion Dellar Ward, daughter of Albert Ward and Flora May Ward. Edith Marion Dellar W. and Flora May W. are a dead give away. Albert Ward is a pseudonym (same initials as Arthur Woodcroft), no wonder we couldn’t find him, the crafty so and so.
We had figured he must have travelled to Canada under an assumed name, and as soon as I put this new name into a search of ship’s passengers I came up with Albert Ward, 45 year old straw hat manufacturer (the ubiquitous Luton profession), who sailed on the Corinthian for Montreal in Nov 1909. May must have followed on shortly after as she is living with him as his “wife” on the Canadian census for 1911.
So the stories were true, and Edith Summerton was, as she claimed, Madge’s cousin. Of course there’s more to find. Did Arthur/Albert and May actually marry (making Arthur officially a bigamist, not just a bit of a scoundrel)? Were/are there more Canadian cousins? And why did he choose the pseudonym Ward? Beatrice Woodcroft's daughter Doris Dellar, my grandmother, became a Ward when she married; it’s my mother’s maiden name. But Doris wasn’t even born when Arthur and May ran off together. It’s just a funny little coincidence. Right?
Friday, January 22, 2010
Saturday, December 26, 2009
White Christmas
Dallas's first white Christmas since 1926 and only Genevieve's second Christmas in the United States. I thought it awfully nice of Dallas to put on a festive display for me.
Monday, December 07, 2009
Family Not at Home Evening
There are many times of year when it feels like New York is at it's best. But December is special, with, as the song says, "City sidewalks, busy sidewalks, dressed in holiday style, In the air there's a feeling of Christmas." It seems a shame not to make the most of it, so on my first night back in the city, my friend John and I ventured out to enjoy the Christmas lights.
This year's windows celebrated writing letters to Santa. I don't remember if I ever sent a letter to the North Pole, but many years I got just what I wanted, so somehow he knew. Clever ole Santa!
First stop, Rockerfeller City to see the tree and the angels,
and the snowflakes on Saks Fifth Avenue.
I love the blue tree lights at Columbus Circle
And of course we went to Macy's on 34th Street. We didn't go up to visit Santa, but I'm sure he's the real one!
This year's windows celebrated writing letters to Santa. I don't remember if I ever sent a letter to the North Pole, but many years I got just what I wanted, so somehow he knew. Clever ole Santa!Happy Christmas everyone!
Saturday, December 05, 2009
I picked up a new book at the airport on the way to Jerusalem (the story of an old house on Bankside in London), and found a passage that beautifully conveyed my own feelings about searching out people's histories.
"The vast mass of men and women in every time do not leave behind them either renown or testimony. These people walked our streets, prayed in our churches, drank in our inns, built and lived in the houses where we have our being today, opened our front doors, looked out our windows, called to each other down our staircases. They were moved by essentially the same passions and griefs that we are, the same bedrock hopes and fears...
Witness to the living, busy, complex beings that many of these vanished ones were tends to be limited to fleeting references on pages of reference books that are seldom opened. Scant evidence, you may say, of lives as vivid and as important to the bearers as our own are today to us. But by putting these scraps together, sometimes, with luck, something more coherent is achieved. Pieces of lost lives are genuinely recovered. Here and there a few individual figures detach themselves from the dark and silence to which time has consigned them. They walk slowly towards us. Eventually, we may even see their faces." **
I went back to Bedford County Record Office yesterday to read the minute books from the Luton Poor Law Union. Huge registers where the Clerk recorded the day to day happenings at the workhouse and the maintenance of poor families in the area. The references to my family members indeed are fleeting, but I got a glimpse into some of my ancestors lives, sadly because it's the workhouse records, at some of the most distressing times in their lives.
Annie Maria Ward (my 2x great grandmother) admitted herself to the workhouse on the 28th of May 1917. She was 73 and for the aged and destitute the workhouse often served as a last stop. It says she was a Wesleyan, a former washerwoman, and the widow of James Ward, a well sinker. Annie lived four years in the workhouse and died on 15 May 1921 at 06.30. I've been told that hearts often fail in the morning when heart rates are low, and when I checked her death certificate it gave cause of death as cardiac disease. What a long, hard life she must have lived.
My 4x great grandfather John Woodcroft was born in the picturesque village of Whipsnade, but we found him as an adult living in nearby Kensworth. The Minutes record an examination - an inquiry into which parish should foor the bill for his poor relief - of John in 1855 and note he was legally settled in Whipsnade but had been living in Kensworth since Christmas last. What necessitated the uprooting of his family in the dead of winter? It notes that he had become chargeable - on the dole - because of his wife's sickness. I smiled to myself - poor John always had a sick wife. He worked his way through four in just 30 years. They just kept dying on him. Much sorrow for one person to endure.
My many times great uncle Thomas Osborn applied to the Board of the Luton Poor Law Union for the sum of 4 pounds 10 shillings to emigrate with his wife and seven children to Australia. I sympathise with his desire to start a new life half way across the world, and I admire his gumption for asking for the cash to do it.
The last story I followed in the records was that of my 3x great grandmother Mary Ann Rayner. We saw on the 1881 census that she was blind in later life, but I learned this was a condition she had all her life. Her eyes were examined at the behest of the Board in April 1853 to "determine if the girl's sight might be improved by undergoing an operation." Two weeks later they wrote to a London eye hospital inquiring if she could be admitted - in a moment of foresight they kindly noted the full name and address of the hospital in the Minutes. At this point I was getting anxious... would they make the investment and send her after all? On 13th of May her District Officer was instructed to take Mary Ann to the Central London Opthalmic Hospital. I was hopeful, but sadly the last entry two weeks late noted that the hospital had written reporting that "nothing could be done for Mary Ann Rayner and requesting that she might be removed." The trip to London was a dead end for Mary Ann, but it gave me a new avenue of inquiry. I shall contact the hospital (still treating eyes to this day) to see if their records survive. There may yet be more fragments of Mary Ann's story to piece together.
**from The House By The Thames by Gillian Tindall
"The vast mass of men and women in every time do not leave behind them either renown or testimony. These people walked our streets, prayed in our churches, drank in our inns, built and lived in the houses where we have our being today, opened our front doors, looked out our windows, called to each other down our staircases. They were moved by essentially the same passions and griefs that we are, the same bedrock hopes and fears...
Witness to the living, busy, complex beings that many of these vanished ones were tends to be limited to fleeting references on pages of reference books that are seldom opened. Scant evidence, you may say, of lives as vivid and as important to the bearers as our own are today to us. But by putting these scraps together, sometimes, with luck, something more coherent is achieved. Pieces of lost lives are genuinely recovered. Here and there a few individual figures detach themselves from the dark and silence to which time has consigned them. They walk slowly towards us. Eventually, we may even see their faces." **
I went back to Bedford County Record Office yesterday to read the minute books from the Luton Poor Law Union. Huge registers where the Clerk recorded the day to day happenings at the workhouse and the maintenance of poor families in the area. The references to my family members indeed are fleeting, but I got a glimpse into some of my ancestors lives, sadly because it's the workhouse records, at some of the most distressing times in their lives.
Annie Maria Ward (my 2x great grandmother) admitted herself to the workhouse on the 28th of May 1917. She was 73 and for the aged and destitute the workhouse often served as a last stop. It says she was a Wesleyan, a former washerwoman, and the widow of James Ward, a well sinker. Annie lived four years in the workhouse and died on 15 May 1921 at 06.30. I've been told that hearts often fail in the morning when heart rates are low, and when I checked her death certificate it gave cause of death as cardiac disease. What a long, hard life she must have lived.
My 4x great grandfather John Woodcroft was born in the picturesque village of Whipsnade, but we found him as an adult living in nearby Kensworth. The Minutes record an examination - an inquiry into which parish should foor the bill for his poor relief - of John in 1855 and note he was legally settled in Whipsnade but had been living in Kensworth since Christmas last. What necessitated the uprooting of his family in the dead of winter? It notes that he had become chargeable - on the dole - because of his wife's sickness. I smiled to myself - poor John always had a sick wife. He worked his way through four in just 30 years. They just kept dying on him. Much sorrow for one person to endure.
My many times great uncle Thomas Osborn applied to the Board of the Luton Poor Law Union for the sum of 4 pounds 10 shillings to emigrate with his wife and seven children to Australia. I sympathise with his desire to start a new life half way across the world, and I admire his gumption for asking for the cash to do it.
The last story I followed in the records was that of my 3x great grandmother Mary Ann Rayner. We saw on the 1881 census that she was blind in later life, but I learned this was a condition she had all her life. Her eyes were examined at the behest of the Board in April 1853 to "determine if the girl's sight might be improved by undergoing an operation." Two weeks later they wrote to a London eye hospital inquiring if she could be admitted - in a moment of foresight they kindly noted the full name and address of the hospital in the Minutes. At this point I was getting anxious... would they make the investment and send her after all? On 13th of May her District Officer was instructed to take Mary Ann to the Central London Opthalmic Hospital. I was hopeful, but sadly the last entry two weeks late noted that the hospital had written reporting that "nothing could be done for Mary Ann Rayner and requesting that she might be removed." The trip to London was a dead end for Mary Ann, but it gave me a new avenue of inquiry. I shall contact the hospital (still treating eyes to this day) to see if their records survive. There may yet be more fragments of Mary Ann's story to piece together.
**from The House By The Thames by Gillian Tindall
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
Jerusalem
The flight over was a laugh. I was in a middle seat with my new pals Ofer and Andrew on either side. Ofer headed off home to Beesheba but I rode on to Jerusalem with Andrew and friends who were on their way to a conference for the week. They were staying in the new town so we grabbed dinner and then I made my way down to my digs in the Old City. First view of the city walls at Jaffa Gate was pretty impressive.
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Well it’s the best I can do for artistic!
In fact the best way to see Jerusalem is from the walls - you can walk the entire length except along the Temple Mount - and I’m surprised there weren’t more people, I had them practically to myself. First morning I walked along the southern walls, with views of the Armenian and Jewish Quarters, and Mount Zion.
You know how much I love cemeteries (professional hazard). And cypress trees.
In the afternoon I walked along the Via Dolorosa to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. I’ve been in a lot of magnificent churches but this one is something else. It looks so unassuming from the outside, squeezed into that little square, but once you’re through the door it’s a strange world.
Morning two I went to the
You can never have too many artistic shots of palm trees.
Well it’s the best I can do for artistic!And so after a day and a half I’d seen pretty much everything, got lonely and fed up, changed my flight and buzzed off home early. Traveling on your own is pretty rubbish really. Jonathan needs to come from
Friday, November 27, 2009
2 days in
Still miss Lucy and co here in England, but no use moping. I've been getting on with some research. Yesterday made my first visit to the UK National Archives. Got my red reader's ticket and ordered up some documents. One volume was a giant crumbling register book for soldiers mustered into (right phrase?) the British army in the 1860s for the India campaigns. They gave me quite gloves to wear, I felt like a proper researcher. And I'm pretty sure I was the second youngest person there.
Today I went to the Bedfordshire archives looking for something that might tell me about my 3x gt grandmother Kitty Osborn, mother of seven fatherless children. Quite an accomplishment for the 1840s. I only made it through a fraction of what's available. I need another day for sure. I'm on the hunt and it's really exciting!
Tomorrow is a leisure day and then on Sunday I'm off to Israel for four days. I've been studying up: guide books, maps, Matthew, Mark and John.
Today I went to the Bedfordshire archives looking for something that might tell me about my 3x gt grandmother Kitty Osborn, mother of seven fatherless children. Quite an accomplishment for the 1840s. I only made it through a fraction of what's available. I need another day for sure. I'm on the hunt and it's really exciting!
Tomorrow is a leisure day and then on Sunday I'm off to Israel for four days. I've been studying up: guide books, maps, Matthew, Mark and John.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
I discovered I make a pretty lousy New York tour guide. Perhaps I fail to appreciate some of the things that a city like New York has to offer, but really the reason I came here is the people, not the place itself. And I met someone terrific this week, ironically not an American, but a Brit. Would probably never have got to know him in England, we both had to be thousands of miles from home. It's funny how that works.
I suppose being here has really made me appreciate home even more. I'm leaving for England on Tuesday and I'm so excited just to be there. I don't care if the plumbing is a bit naff and the train to London costs $51. Alright I do care, but it'll be worth it. I'm excited to do some family history research with my Mum. That's another thing I have to thank New York for. Despite growing up with Mum's great interest in our family background, it never really clicked for me until I got here. Now I'm dying to spend some time with her going over censuses and old parish records and just sharing our passion for it all.
I have a long list of things to research while I'm there, so family if you're reading this - and you should be! - watch this space for news. And of course pictures from Jerusalem. None of border checkpoints (yeah, hadn't thought about those) as I don't fancy getting shot, but tons of everything else.
I suppose being here has really made me appreciate home even more. I'm leaving for England on Tuesday and I'm so excited just to be there. I don't care if the plumbing is a bit naff and the train to London costs $51. Alright I do care, but it'll be worth it. I'm excited to do some family history research with my Mum. That's another thing I have to thank New York for. Despite growing up with Mum's great interest in our family background, it never really clicked for me until I got here. Now I'm dying to spend some time with her going over censuses and old parish records and just sharing our passion for it all.
I have a long list of things to research while I'm there, so family if you're reading this - and you should be! - watch this space for news. And of course pictures from Jerusalem. None of border checkpoints (yeah, hadn't thought about those) as I don't fancy getting shot, but tons of everything else.
Some recent pictures of Andrew
With my auntie
Growing teeth
Looking less like a baby and more like a little boy every day
Tearing around on my dump truck
With my big brother JonathanThursday, October 15, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
I was looking closely at the 1910 census for John Ducie because I just read that the 1910 schedules often indicate whether someone was a veteran of the Civil War. And instead discovered that where it states whether someone is married or single, wife Ellen is listed as M1 (first marriage) and John Ducie is M2.
Monday, June 15, 2009
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Monday, May 04, 2009
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