April 2022 – GenealogyAtHeart.com

Tips for Archive Visits

Like me, it’s probably been a while since you have visited archives for research purposes. Last week I mentioned I had returned to two local to me archives and I’d provide some tips this week.

You know that old saying, you never forget how to ride a bike. The same goes with researching in archives, however, there is a learning curve to get back to peak performance. I say that after deciding I would resume riding a bike during the pandemic and falling off in the street. I was fine, with a few minor scratches but a driver passing me was panic-stricken thinking he was the cause of my accident. Nope, my cell rang and I was trying to remove it from my pocket while maneuvering around a parked car with an oncoming car headed towards me. Not a brilliant decision!

Last week I found myself in the same euphoric feeling I had when taking my joy ride. It was so awesome to be going back to do boots-on-the-ground research. The anticipation colored reality.

I’m hoping my lessons learned or should I say, re-remembered, will help you when you start traveling again.

Baby Steps First – I recommend you get those boots wet locally before embarking on a cross-country trip. You’ll be ready if you’ve practiced a bit closer to home first. Remember, if you miss something nearby you can always return but not so much if you’re far away.
Pack Smartly – I always took a mid-sized plastic bag to contain my needed supplies so I took it out and thought I was ready to go. I use the see-through bag so archivists can tell I haven’t brought in any banned items – like pens. Pens are a no-no in archives! My bag contains a small magnifying glass, gloves, a small ruler, a few engineering pencils, a tiny notebook, a couple of quarters if I need a snack during a break, small stickees, and a thumb drive. Except, I didn’t check before I went and had removed the post its. I use them to tab pages that I want to copy or photograph. So, I had to take photos as I went through. Not a major issue but it changed my typical process. I also had taken out the thumb drive which I didn’t need at the first archive so I hadn’t realized it was missing until I showed up at the second and could have used it. There is a workaround – email yourself whatever you were going to save to the drive.
Dress Professionally – We’ve been home for years now so we’ve become a tad, how should I put it, too comfortable. We’ve also aged and perhaps put on some pounds so make sure your outfit fits comfortably before the day you’re leaving. I usually wear long pants that are a step up from jeans but not super dressy. I pair it with a short-sleeved top or blouse and bring a business jacket or sweater. Archives are often kept cold to preserve the artifacts. Shivering is not conducive to researching! Side note: You might be mistaken for a staff member due to the way you are dressed; that happened to me twice one day. That validated my outfit was appropriate.
Hydrate – water is usually not permitted so check ahead to see if you can store a bottle in a locker, with a snack if you have blood sugar issues. I didn’t think this would be a problem but my trip lasted longer than I anticipated. I’m still leery of using water fountains and the first archive didn’t have a vending machine.
Call or email to verify what is on the archive’s website. As I mentioned last week, I missed clicking a button that would have taken me to schedule a visit. Since I was the only one there I was permitted to schedule on the spot but if that hadn’t been available, I would have wasted two hours as it was an hour each way from my home. This gets me to think about driving again. You may have just driven on local streets for the last few years and now you’re back on an interstate during rush hour. Taking it slow isn’t an option as people will be changing lanes around you. I witnessed some road rage, thankfully not directed at me. People have become more impatient or perhaps, we just forgot what commuting was like. Just be careful.

Enjoy your archive visit!

A Return to the Archives

I’m calling what happened a two for one. This week, I was able to resume visiting local archives. Oh, what a feeling!

I scheduled a visit with the first archive to review their holdings on a pioneer of my town who I’m writing a journal article about. After spending three hours reviewing the documents I was stymied by one that was a bibliography missing the previous page. I took a note to find the information elsewhere.

Since it’s been a long time since I visited the museum part of the archive I decided to take a look around. One of the docents saw me pondering an exhibit and we got to talking. I mentioned how I was confused by the display as I’d never seen a setup like it was (a barbershop in the same room with a post office in the back and a general store adjacent to the barbershop). He said he thought it was off, too, and said he assumed it was due to space limitations.

One thing led to another and the topic turned to a Super Fund site located in my city. He was knowledgeable as to what had occurred as he had been employed there for 10 years as a chemist. Honestly, I don’t recall many details as I was living in another part of the county when the plant closed so I hadn’t followed the story closely.

The man claimed that the company had followed all federal guidelines and explained the process that had been used to work with the lower grade phosphate; they incinerated it at a high temperature so it would form a softball size structure. He did say that when the plant first opened in the late 1940s that process hadn’t been used and some chemicals had been discharged into the ground. Over the years, he claimed, the company had corrected that problem.

The clincher to the story is that he claimed the company was shut down when a finding of arsenic was discovered when an elementary school across the street from the plant was going to install playground equipment. The company was blamed for the arsenic though they never used it.

I asked how the arsenic possibly got there and he didn’t know. Then it hit me; it was the site of a former sawmill from the late 1800s. Arsenic was used to treat wood to preserve it from insects.

I told the gentleman that I thought he should record his memories of working at the plant but he declined. My take is he was still bitter over his job loss. I decided to blog the story, keeping him anonymous at his request, because there should be a record of his insider view of what occurred.

I discovered after I got home that the missing bibliography page was housed in a book in a university’s special collections department. Two days later I arrived to find the information.

Somehow, when I went online to check holdings I did not see a button that I was now supposed to make an appointment to view the book. Luckily for me, the kind student who was tending the desk helped me so I was able to find the information. Eureka! The page contained a name of an author for a book I had at home that had reported the story I was writing about but added where she had found the information – in an unpublished, undated manuscript held at a museum that was now permanently closed. The author mentioned it was missing when she was seeking it, probably in the late 1960s. So, now I’m on the hunt for a missing manuscript.

While I was at the second archive, the student brought out a book I hadn’t asked to see and said he thought I might be interested in it. I looked through it and got some ideas for future research.

Boots on the ground enabled me to get additional information about topics I might investigate someday. That was value-added that I find well worth the trip.

Asking the Right Genealogical Questions

Courtesy of skiprichard.com

“Ask and you shall receive and your joy shall be complete” (Matthew 7:7) was a Bible quote my mom used often. As a child, I sometimes had a difficult time speaking up to those to that I wasn’t close. When I would come home and complain about an injustice that had occurred at school mom would suggest I communicate what I needed. I would return the next day with a practiced speech; I can’t say speaking up always rectified the situation but it was a valuable life skill to practice.

Side note: When speaking up didn’t work and I’d come home and complain to mom her next response was always, “When you have as much education as your teachers then we’ll listen to you.” In other words, suck it up and move on.

Asking for the right information is critical in genealogy. Years ago, I interviewed my maternal grandmother about her early life. I asked where the family lived when they first moved to Gary, Indiana. She replied, “On the corner of Adams and Ridge Road; we rented the top floor.” It didn’t dawn on me that I should have drilled down further. There are four corners, which corner? What was the address? Rented from who? How long did you live there?

Unfortunately, my family lived in that location between the census years. There are City Directories, however, none mention them, likely because they were renting. Because I didn’t ask the right question I will probably never know the answer.

My husband’s maternal great-grandfather’s obituary states he was a “long-time teacher and principal.” What was the name of the school? Where was it located? What subject did he teach? What grade level did he teach? What years did he teach? When did he become a principal?

I have pieced together some of his work life through the usual means – censuses, City Directories, county school records, and his maternal aunt’s diary, however, there are large gaps. For a time, he worked in a private school that has long since closed. Again, I’ll likely never get a complete picture.

I decided to Spring Clean a document storage bin yesterday and found in a folder with my husband’s name on it that he had submitted several employee suggestions to US Steel in the 1970s. One contained a way to filter the air to reduce pollutants. We’ve been together nearly 50 years and were together when he submitted his idea but I had no idea he had done that. Attached to the idea was the company’s response which I’m sure you won’t be surprised about – they didn’t think it was needed.

Keep these lessons in mind when you embark on interviewing your family members. Better still, make sure you’ve recorded your life events for your descendants. Rummage through your saved documents to jog your memory of events or perhaps, like me, discover new information you already had. Seeing your family this Easter – Passover – Ramadan – is a great time to ask the right questions.

Family History Research – The Backstory of the Document

Like me, you were probably interested in exploring the 1950 US Federal census that was unveiled by NARA on April Fools Day. Finding my maternal grandparents, the joke was on me!

Above you can see under Charles and Theresa Bauer, their next-door neighbors, that my family wasn’t found at home by the enumerator. No surprise there since I knew my relatives so well. My mother was still living in the home and she and my grandfather were likely at work.

My grandmother had a weekday routine that never varied. Monday she would rise early and wash clothes in an old wringer Maytag and then hang them outside to dry. By the next census, she had an electric washer and dryer but never used them, preferring the wringer washer until she moved from the home in 1973. Tuesday was baking day. Wednesday was mending day. Thursday was grocery day. Friday was cleaning day until I got older and the task was turned over to me to do on Saturday mornings.

After Non was done with her “job” for the day she would begin cooking dinner. She had a gas stove with a well so whatever she made stayed warm until supper.

As soon as the food was done the rest of the day was hers to enjoy. Unless there was a snowstorm you wouldn’t find her at home. She loved to visit her many friends and shop till she dropped. Occasionally, she would have the “ladies” come over to her home to visit; I know that didn’t happen on 25 April 1950.

My husband knew my grandmother well and when I said, “Guess where Non was on the day of the 1950 census.” he replied, “Not home.” Yep, pretty much.

By looking at the page number I can gauge that my grandparents’ house was not one of the first stops for the enumerator that day. He likely came by after 11:00 AM that Tuesday. If he had come back by 4:30 PM someone would have been home.

Not surprising, my paternal grandmother was home that day and provided the enumerator with the information; my dad and grandfather were at work. She was likely reading when the enumerator stopped by. I’ll never know that for certain but I did know here routines. My husband’s grandparents seem to have been missed. Sigh.

Looks like many people were out and about the day the census was taken. If you find yourself in that situation, don’t despair. Look at the notation after “No one at home.” It refers you to another page (sheet) in that document. All I had to do was go to page 74 to find the information. Remember, the sheet number is in the upper right-hand corner of each page; it is NOT the image number. My image number happens to be 29 of 31. Here’s what I find:

Surprise, surprise – there is one person I hadn’t expected to find living in the household! Frank Trputec was a boarder. During the Great Depression, my family turned their old farmhouse into a boarding house to make ends meet. I had thought all the boarders had left by 1950 but apparently not.

I vaguely remember Mr. Trputec. I was told he bought my favorite stuffed animal, a spotted dog that would squeak when you pinched his tail, for my first Christmas. It’s the only stuffed animal I ever kept. I remember him coming to parties at my grandparent’s home when I was young. I can still visualize him sitting at the kitchen table next to my grandfather. He was a quiet, gentle, and kind man.

Mr. Trputec, however, was not a “cousin” as listed on the census. Well, not in the genealogical sense. In my family, everyone was considered a cousin. Sure, we’re all related so close friends and neighbors of my family were given the endearing titles of cousins. My grandmother’s closest lady friends were often called, Kuma, Croatian for Godmother. Except they hadn’t been officially deemed as Godmother for my grandparent’s four children by the Roman Catholic Church on any documents I’ve ever found. Likely, they were just good role models for the children growing up. My family really believed in “It Takes A Village.”

Mr. Truputec never married or had children so as he got up there in years, I can understand why he remained in my grandparent’s household. They kind of sort of adopted him. He became pseudo-family.

My point here is that any document we find does not tell the whole story. In 50 years a descendant will look at the 1950 census with a different perspective than I do because they had no intimate background knowledge of the individuals listed. They may wonder why no one was home and how Frank Trputec was related. If they discover he wasn’t related they may think my family was trying to hide that they were renting out a room. His relationship can easily be identified as “lodger” in the 1940 US federal census. In the intervening 10 year time period, he became “family.”

Keep this in mind when you are analyzing documents for the family members you do not know well. Do your future family a favor and write down your interpretation of documents you find for people you know well. There’s often a back story that is just as important as the “factual” documents you discover. Happy Hunting!

Genealogical Fence Mending

I’m not talking about farmers who must mend their fences regularly to insure their livestock and produce remains safe; I’m referring to the idiom regarding improving or repairing a relationship that has been damaged.

This week, I’ve had several situations that could be termed coincidence, synchronicity, or just considered odd. You be the judge.

The first occurred on Sunday when I was researching a pioneer family in my city for possible inclusion on an upcoming cemetery tour that my local historical society will be hosting in the fall. One of my town’s best sources is a work by Gertrude Stoughton who retired here and established the historical society. Her work is thorough and my only recommendation would have been to include footnotes as I often have difficulty tracing her information.

Above you’ll see a clip from a Google search I did to find the McElroy family who established the second drug store in town; their unnamed daughter in Stoughton’s book was purportedly the first female pharmacist in our location and probably the state of Florida.

I had searched for nearly 2 hours and was finding NOTHING about the McElroys; I located a Black family in the southern part of our county who operated a lab but the dates were way later than I was researching. I found a family of that name who once owned a pharmacy in Orlando and thought they may be related but that investigation turned up nothing. In desperation, I decided to just Google “Tarpon Springs” and “drug store.” Lo and behold up pops the clip above. Notice how McElroy is spelled? MCAROY. Hmmm. Clicking the snippet view gave me a completely different excerpt. I have a hard copy so I turned to the glossary to find a McAroy. None listed. Only one page for the McElroy’s. Somewhere, buried in that book was another sentence about the family I was researching. Skimming page after page I discovered it on page 29:

Clearly, McElroy is written and not McAroy. I went back to the online snippet and checked the copyright date of Stoughton’s book. Same as mine. There have been NO updates or newer editions with revisions.

So, tell me, how did the internet show me the correct spelling of the family I was searching when the source it was citing did not have the correct spelling anywhere in the book? Beats me!

Also on Sunday, I sent an email to an acquaintance regarding a lineage society application I had submitted 3 years ago but still had not received a resolution about. The genealogist I had been working with stopped communicating with me in July 2020, I assumed because of the pandemic. I asked my colleague to forward my request for a resolution to whoever was currently involved with that organization. The following day I received an email from the current genealogist. We wrote several exchanges and Tuesday evening, I decided to call him to make sure I was clear on the direction we were going. When I told him who I was on the phone call he replied, “Hi, cousin.” I was stunned. Sure enough, I’ve done a surname study of several family names and he is my cousin from a line I’ve never met in person. Odder still, he lived not far from me for the last 50 years but recently moved out of state 3 months ago. He moved to an area close to where we also own property and planned to visit this summer. We’ll be getting together then.

We had a wonderful conversation on many genealogical topics and he let me know about two Sons of the American Revolution applications he had done for Florida families. Florida wasn’t a colony in Colonial America and I really never thought much about its involvement in our Revolutionary War.

The following day, I was getting my hair trimmed and shared the coincidences with my stylist who is interested in history. He had to step away from me to take a phone call for a reschedule and when he returned he informed me that somehow, my appointment wasn’t scheduled for today but someone named Renee was supposed to have been there instead. He didn’t know a Renee. I told him I only knew one. Seconds later that Renee’s mom happened to walk into the shop. We laughed about the coincidence.

I had planned after my haircut to visit a local funeral home (as a genealogist, this makes sense, right?!) as I got a tip that the owner was a descendant of a man who local stories claim lynched several men locally during the Civil War. The problem is I have found records showing the man wasn’t even in this area at the time the purported lynching occurred.

The descendant wasn’t available so I left my card with the couple who was in the office. I told them why I wanted to speak with the owner. The woman informed me she was from a pioneering family in the county north of mine and the story I was interested in didn’t occur during the Civil War but during the Revolutionary War. I thought about the story my newly met cousin had told me about the previous evening. Weird.

Since I’ve had such an odd week I decided to just spill the next part. . . A woman who I met who is involved in a lineage society informed me that dead Rebel soldiers speak to her and one named Parker told her that he had been killed on Deserter’s Hill and was buried under a museum.

I will investigate any tip I get so I asked her if the dead man had told her if Parker was his first or last name. She didn’t know. I asked where the museum was located as there wasn’t one on the site. She didn’t know. So much for that hint.

The woman at the funeral home looked at her spouse and they stared at each other for a bit. Were they thinking I was a kook? I just let the quiet hang. She then said there were Parkers in the area and they were involved in the Civil War and they were buried in Anclote Cemetery. Wow. But that’s not all – one was buried in an unmarked grave that they later discovered happened to be under a sign for an RV company. Very odd.

I plan to be checking out this Parker family. But here’s the clincher of the ending.

I asked for both of their names. You probably already figured this out. Her name was Renee. I laughed. Asked her if she had an appointment at my salon today. She didn’t.

So now I know 2 Renees. I’d love to meet the woman who was supposed to have been having her hair cut at the same time as me with the same stylist. Maybe she doesn’t exist and it was a message for me that I should have gone to the funeral home first as that Renee wasn’t planning on staying much longer. I’m glad we connected.

The connections we make as genealogists and the records we leave behind are important historical truths. An innocent man has been linked to crimes he never committed. A woman before her time was largely forgotten because of the misspelling of her name. My parent’s divorce has led me to not know my father’s family. In 48 hours this week, all of those fences were fixed because of a chain of weird occurrences.

Genealogists don’t think of themselves as fence menders but it is what we do, it’s who we are. And I sure appreciate a little help from the Universe to get over those fences!