Motivation Monday: Grand Reopening

Thanks to Betty's Boneyard, I received the "One Lovely Blog" award. That got me thinking: Wasn't it time to spruce up my blog's picture window? So I did a little tidying up this weekend and came up with this new look. Welcome to my grand reopening! And thank you, Betty, for the little push I needed to get motivated.

Looking back, all these little things do add up. Thank you so much for reading. 

Saturday Shopping: Hardy Boys in Cleveland Heights

This is a guest post from my hubby, Wally, about his experiences as a 13-year-old (late 1940s) in Cleveland Heights, OH.

"The corner drug store--2 blocks from my home--was the neighborhood club house. In addition to being a pharmacy, it sold magazines, cigarettes/cigars, candy, and had a soda fountain (about that, more in a later post).

"I would stand at the magazine display reading comic books ("Captain Marvel," "Wonder Woman," "Classics Comics") and I suspect that the pharmacist, to distract me (and to save his comics from being dog-eared!), hired me (at age 13) to mop the floor, deliver prescriptions on my bicycle, and sort redeemed soda bottles. I worked a few days after school and on Saturdays.

"When word of my working got back to Monticello Jr High in Cleveland Heights, the principal told me I was too young to be working and that I'd be 'pushing up daisies' before I was 21. I ignored him.

"The pharmacist-owner paid me $5 per week. I spent most of it on Hardy Boys books. To get to the nearest bookstore, I had to take a bus or two and ride for at least half an hour--on my own. I remember feeling really pleased: A Hardy Boys' book may have been the very first book I bought for myself (and it's not the last, by far!). I think the books were $2.95 apiece.

"Over the months, I gradually accumulated the first 23 books in the series. The ostensible author was Franklin W. Dixon but I learned, as an adult, that the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books were the products of the Stratemeyer Syndicate, churned out by different writers. I grew up, joined the Army, and my mother eventually threw out or gave away my Hardy Boys collection. I never missed it."

Treasure Chest Thursday: The Brussels Bag

In 1958, my Uncle Sidney Burk flew to Belgium to visit the World's Fair. (Being a travel agent like his older brother--my Dad--he probably got a special deal.)

My parents asked him to bring back something special for me, my twin, and our younger sister. This evening bag is one of the two gifts he brought back for me.

It must have cost the earth, even at that time. It's velvet, with intricate metallic-thread embroidery. Size is 7 1/2 by 4 12 inches. I rarely take it out of its box these days, but I did use it for special occasions years ago.

The other gift Uncle Sidney brought back was a doll in Belgium costume, sitting in a chair and making lace--real lace, not the machine kind we buy in stores today. It was the kind of doll that is put on a high shelf where it can be admired but not played with.

Alas, I always liked to inspect that lace up close, being a needlework fan even then (my mother and grandmother loved to stitch and I learned to crochet before going to kindergarten). After 8 years or so of being closely examined, the doll and the lace somehow separated and eventually the doll became so spindly that I had to say goodbye. Decades later, the memory of that doll and my beautiful Brussels bag bring back the exotic glamor and excitement of my uncle's trip to Belgium.

One Lovely Blog - So Many Blogs, So Little Time

Many of the blogs I'd like to honor with the "One Lovely Blog" award have already been recognized by others. So I'm going to list just five that haven't yet received the award but are very worthwhile reading for genealogy enthusiasts.

Thank you to these bloggers for taking the time to share their ideas and take us along on their journeys!

• Margel's 2338 Washington Blvd

• Linda's Documenting the Details

• Susan's Long Lost Relatives

• Jenna's Desperately Seeking Surnames

• Cindy's Genealogy By Cindy

One Lovely Blog Award - Thank you!

Betty of Betty's Boneyard Genealogy Blog was kind enough to honor me with the "One Lovely Blog" award.

Researching the award's background, I learned that Sara of "Works of Art by Sara" started it.

Her original rules for the award were as follows:

1. Accept the award and post it on your blog together with the name of the person who granted the award and their blog link.
2. Pass the award on to 7 or more blogs that you like.
3. Remember to contact the bloggers to let them know they have been chosen for this award.


The award, adapted for genealogy blogs, now refers to 7 newly-discovered gen blogs that deserve the "One Lovely Blog" award. I'll post my 7 very shortly.

Thank you again, Betty, for bestowing this award on my blog!

Sunday's Obituary - Mrs. Brice Larimer McClure, Nov. 2, 1948

My late mother-in-law (who, sadly, I never met), saved her mother's obit...and someone saved her mother's wedding notice, shown at bottom, as well. Both are from a newspaper in Upper Sandusky, Ohio, where much of the family lived. Throughout the obit, Mrs. McClure's husband's name was spelled incorrectly as "Bruce" but his name was Brice, as I show here. 

Historical note: Floyda, according to the obit, was a member of the "D of A" which apparently was the Daughters of America, a "Junior Order of the United American Mechanics." Since Floyda's husband Brice was a mechanic, this makes sense. By the time she became a member, I hope the group had given up its anti-immigrant mission and was then an insurance/fraternal aid organization.

Mrs. B. L. McClure Dies Early Today

Services to be held Friday from Funeral Home Here

Mrs. Brice L. McClure, 70, of 119 East Finley Street, passed away at 1 o'clock this Tuesday morning at Bucyrus City hospital following an illness of one week. Death was attributed to a cerebral hemorrhage.

Born in Nevada [OH] March 30, 1978, Floyda Mabel (Steiner) McClure was the daughter of Edward and Elizabeth (Rinehart) Steiner.

June 10, 1903, she was united in marriage in Upper Sandusky with Brice L. McClure, who survives with one daughter, Marian [my late mother-in-law], wife of Edgar Wood of Cleveland [my late father-in-law].

Also surviving are three grandchildren, Wallis [my hubby], Richard, and Barbara Wood and two sisters, Mrs.  F. W. Rhuark and Mrs. Carrie Traxler, both of this city. Two sisters and one brother are deceased.

Mrs. McClure was a member of the Methodist church and of the Eastern Star lodge in this city and of the D. of A. in Cleveland. She and her husband had resided here for the past four years, coming from Cleveland, where she also leaves many friends.


She was a good neighbor and very active in church and community affairs.

Funeral services will be conducted Friday at 2 pm from the Bringman & Co. funeral home here. Rev. Cecil F. Fogle will officiate with interment in Old Mission cemetery.

The body will remain at the funeral home where friends may call after noon Wednesday.

--
Here's Floyda Mabel Steiner McClure's wedding announcement, from June 10, 1903. Floyda's father, Edward Steiner, was dead but her mother, Elizabeth Steiner, was present at the ceremony.

M'Clure-Steiner

-

Quiet Wedding at Home of Auditor Halbedel Wednesday Morning.

The scene of a happy event was the residence of County Auditor and Mrs. E.N. Halbedel, on Fifth Street, on Wednesday morning, when Miss Floyda Steiner quietly entered matrimony with B.L. McClure of Wabash, Ind. The ceremony was performed at 9 o'clock by Rev. P. Langendorff, pastor of St. Paul's Church, in the presence of the bride's mother and the families of Auditor Halbedel and Auditor-Elect J.N. Traxler. Mrs. Halbedel served a splendid dinner at 11 o'clock. Mr. and Mrs. McClure departed on the afternoon Hocking passenger via Marion for Wabash, Ind., where they will reside and be at home to their friends after July 1. The bride, a sister of Mrs. Halbedel and Mrs. J.N. Traxler, is highly esteemed in this city, and the best wishes of many friends accompany the young couple to Wabash, where Mr. McClure, whose acquaintance impresses sterling character, is employed as a machinist in the Big Four shops.

52 Weeks - Movies - "Mr Sardonicus" and "Mothra"

The Laconia was my local movie theater, located under the elevated subway line running along White Plains Road in the Northeast Bronx. One of the earliest movies I remember seeing without my parents (but with my twin, thank goodness!) was Mr. Sardonicus.

If you haven't heard of it, there's a good reason: It's a horror movie and not even a good one. But it was Saturday afternoon, and there were cartoons as well as two movies (who remembers the other feature?), so sis and I sat and shivered and probably had nightmares about Baron Sardonicus's grotesque face.

Far better -- and from the same year -- was Mothra, a Japanese monster movie that comes to mind because it deals with the aftermath of atomic radiation. It was a favorite movie of my childhood and decades later I still remember the foot-high twins who summoned Mothra to help them. Oh, if only Mothra could help Japan now.

52 Weeks: Illness, Injury - Mouth full of metal

"Look ma, no cavities!" Remember that ad slogan (named by Advertising Age as one of the most memorable of the 20th century)? Crest put fluoride into toothpaste and presto, no more cavities.

Well, fluoride came too late for me and my teeth. Not long ago, a young relative noticed my mouth full of metal (while I was laughing out loud, of course) and asked what it was all about.

I explained that, in the brief period after dinosaurs ruled the earth and before American Idol and Dancing with the Stars ruled the airwaves, the technology for sealing teeth and keeping them healthy hadn't yet been invented.

Instead, when a tooth broke (try explaining cavities to a 4 year old), the dentist would fill the hole with metal. Put that way, the process sounds medieval, doesn't it?

She took one last look, nodded that she understood, and that was the end of that. I bet she brushed extra long that night!

Fearless Females - 6-word tribute to Tillie Rose Jacobs Mahler

My Fearless Female tribute to great-grandma Tillie:

Brave, long-lived matriarch with heart

I was a baby when Tillie died but she touched the lives of everyone in my family. If she hadn't come to America with her husband Meyer, we wouldn't be who we are. She was brave!

Sentimental Sunday: Cherry Blossom Time in Japan

The news about Japan's devastation is so disturbing that I hereby interrupt my regularly-scheduled genealogy blog to remember a trip there, just four years ago, during beautiful cherry blossom season (late March into early April).

Above is one of the most unforgettable moments--standing in a park during a "cherry blossom blizzard"--that's when cherry blossoms fall off the trees and are carried on the wind, scenting the air as they swirl all around you.

And here's another unforgettable moment: attending a baseball game in which the Yokohama Bay Stars beat the Yakult Swallows. The relief pitcher for the Bay Stars was a fast-ball specialist from the Bronx (my home town) revered for his speed and his ability to pull out a win, which he did that evening. Above, sis and I emulate his pitching stance.

Japan is in our thoughts and prayers.

Fearless Females: Grandma worked as a "finisher" on fine ties

On Monday, February 21, 1977, my mother (Daisy Burk) wrote me a letter about her family's background, which--happily--I kept even though I wasn't as crazed about genealogy then as I am now (!).

My question was prompted by the repeat of the Roots miniseries. Here's some of what Mom wrote about her mother, Hermina Farkas Schwartz:

"I remember Mom telling us that some relative 'did her a favor' for $2.50 a week; she became a finisher on fine ties and worked about 12 hrs. a day and between her and her father [Moritz Farkas] they couldn't earn enough for the family; but she always said she had a good relationship with her father, which was a comfort to her all her life. She became a citizen on his papers (common then, not permitted now) and went to night school for awhile to learn to read and write [English]. She still figured in Hungarian, all her life, though.

"Mom wasn't permitted to do dishes or laundry when she worked because her hands would become too rough for the fine materials she handled; but there was a sewing machine and she did her share at home by sewing for the household. And after she was married she had the girls [her younger sisters] come one at a time to visit (and take care of my brother Fred after he was born) so she could make clothes for them to enable them to go to school here. She never forgot; but I don't ever remember anyone of her sisters mentioning this. I know her 2 bachelor brothers, Julius and Peter, had hard times and she always poured money into their hands when they needed things. Of course, when she and Pop [my grandfather, Theodore Schwartz] needed to open a new store, they gave generously also, I'll say that, too."

Update 2022: The man who did grandma a favor was a Roth cousin who owned a necktie factory. Many other relatives worked for him when they arrived as new immigrants in New York City!

Grandma when she was young (in Hungary?)

52 Weeks- Disasters? Just the Usual, So Counting My Blessings

This week's challenge is "disasters" and I have to say, my family hasn't had any particularly unusual disasters. Let's leave aside WWII for the moment, of course. The disasters that made a big difference to my parents were more personal than environmental:

• My father Harold Burk's first heart attack was a disaster (for his health and for our family's finances). He lived nearly 20 years after that first attack, I'm happy to say.
• The Savoy Hilton Hotel in NYC being pulled down so the GM building could go up, another disaster--because my father lost his travel agency concession and never was able to secure another one, a devastating financial blow.
• My mother Daisy Burk's cancer was a disaster (she lived only 3 years after her diagnosis).

Despite these disasters, this week I'm counting my blessings. I have a wonderful extended family (that's getting larger all the time--now that I've met Cousin Lois and Cousin Lil, descended from Meyer and Tillie Mahler, my pat g-grandparents). And I'm counting my blessings that I have a bit of time and energy to trace back my ancestors and those of my extended family.

Right now I'm on the trail of the Pietroniro family from Casacalenda, Italy. Piacentino (Peter) Pietroniro and his brother Paolo (Paul) came from Italy to New York City on the Taormina on July 10, 1923. Paul went to Montreal, Peter went back and forth between Montreal and Cleveland and ultimately settled in Cleveland, marrying Anna Yurko (whose father I mentioned in my last blog entry). More info to come, I hope!

Wordless Wednesday - Josef Yurkov

This morning I made a discovery: Naturalization petitions are now available online for Joseph (Josef) Yurko (Yurkov) and his wife Anna, my step-children's maternal great-grandparents.

Thanks to the petition, I know that Josef was born in Hazlen, Czechoslovakia on May 7, 1873 and he was married to his wife, Ann Mary, in that town on Nov. 18, 1896. Josef and Ann had 7 children. The oldest, John, was born in 1899 in Czechoslovakia. All the others were born in Ohio, including Anna, my step-children's grandmother.

None of us had ever seen a photo of Josef, so this one (from his petition) is a first--leaving me almost wordless!

Matrilineal Monday - Henrietta Mahler Burk, Mogul?

Today is International Women's Day and I'm thinking about the women in my family tree. Henrietta Mahler Burk, my pat gmother, was quite a determined woman. Here she is with three of her four children: Mildred (left), my Aunt Millie; Miriam (in Henrietta's arms), my aunt; and Harold, at right, my father. At this time, boys might wear dresses such as this and have their hair long until their first haircut. The date of this photo must be after 1911 because that's when Miriam was born.

Henrietta crossed from US to Canada and back several times after she married Isaac in 1906 because he had found work in Montreal, Canada. In fact, my Uncle Sidney, the youngest of their children, was born in Montreal. Henrietta accomplished this long-distance travel by herself until 1915, with her young children by her side. That's determination.

Now here's why I'm focusing on Henrietta Mahler Burk for Matrilineal Monday: In 1931, my father Harold applied for a "fidelity bond" so he could be a transportation clerk at the Park Central Hotel in New York City. This was his first step toward becoming an independent travel agent. But because travel agents were responsible for blank airline tickets--which could be stolen or forged--they and their employees were required to be bonded.

My father applied to the Metropolitan Casualty Insurance Co for his bond. I have the application! He lists his address as 1580 Crotona Park East in the Bronx, and lists all his employers from Jan. 1926 to Oct. 1931. He'd worked for a summer at the Larchmont Yacht Club, been a runner for a Wall Street firm, and somehow was now seeking a job at the Park Central Hotel's travel agent concession.

Asked about his relatives, he lists "Isaac Burk" (his father) and shows Isaac's financial worth as $250. His mother, "Henrietta Burk," has (according to Dad) a net worth of $350. So if Dad is correct, Henrietta was wealthier than her husband. And this, during the Depression! Wealthiest of all, however, is Dad, if his application is to be believed. He lists $100 in cash and $400 in "building & loan association." Sorry, I simply don't believe any of his figures. My guess is that the entire family, combined, might have had that amount in savings.

And by the way, the references Dad lists on this application include:

• Louis Volk, businessman, 3150 Rochambeau Ave., Bronx, NY (in reality, Louis is Harold's uncle)
• Joseph Markel, salesman, 3235 Rochambeau Ave., Bronx, NY (in reality, Joseph is Harold's uncle)
• Jack Mendelowitz, school teacher, 1580 Crotona Park E., Bronx, NY (a neighbor)

Wordless Wednesday - Subway-Savvy City Kids Touch a Cow

One summer my parents (Daisy and Harold Burk) decided that we NYC kids should get a taste of farm living. This is where some mysteries of life would be revealed: Where does milk really come from? That is, before it gets delivered in big tanker trucks to the big bottling plant our school used to visit in the Northeast Bronx.

Our family spent at least a week, possibly two, at a farm in upstate New York, playing with barn kittens (so tiny), learning to milk a cow (carefully), seeing chickens and ducks (new discovery: they chase you!), and, as seen here, learning to swim in the farm's pool. The kids slept in a bunk house and the adults had rooms in the main house. It was a bit exotic and even foreign feeling to subway-savvy city kids like us, who had never touched a cow or fed a chicken.

52 Weeks - Cook Forest Sounds

My husband Wally, today's guest blogger, remembers the sounds of Cook Forest in PA from his teen years:

Friends and I drove from Cleveland (where we lived) to Cook Forest in Pennsylvania three times. In retrospect, it surprises me that we were allowed, as 17-18 year old high school students, to do this on our own, but we were.

Three or four of us would go to rent a cabin in the state park. It would usually be my friends John and Ernie, but my friend Don came once, another guy came once, and one time Ernie's girlfriend Hazel was there (she remembers coming with her parents, but she hung out with us most of the time).

The appeal was that we were totally on our own, no adults. We explored the forest, stayed up late, played cards. Interestingly, we didn't drink or smoke or do drugs. And the area was forest primeval, barely developed at that time, another big appeal. Today Cook Forest has been developed for recreation but then (in the early 1950s) it was primitive and untouched.

Sounds: Going down to the Clarion River, which was (and may still be) the last untouched river in Pennsylvania--never dammed--we'd listen to the river sounds. At night, it was as though there were voices in the water, the sound was actually voices and if you could just listen closely enough, you'd understand what they were saying.

The other forest sound came from Ernie's hi-fi, which we brought to blast classical music (symphonic, not opera) in our cabin in the middle of the woods. One of our friends slept very late one morning, so we pushed one of the hi-fi speakers under his bunk and put on a record of the Quoddy Head lighthouse horn. We turned the volume WAY up and woke him with a blast of sound that rattled the windows. He didn't sleep late again.

Several times we climbed the metal fire tower in the dark so we could see the sunrise and overlook the river and the valley filled with mist. The 80-ft tower was built on the highest point in the park. As we climbed the tower's metal steps, our feet made a kind of ringing sound that reverberated throughout the forest, it seemed.

I remember walking through those woods, we were noisy as hell--the loudest sounds in the forest!

One more sound I remember: One night, I was walking with John and Ernie toward the fire tower and as we approached, we heard a voice. Getting closer, we realized it was a girl's voice, "No, Billy, don't, no please don't!" I turned on my flashlight, shined it up to the top of the tower, and called, "Are you all right, ma'am?" (Of course I was probably the same age as the couple on the tower, but I used "ma'am" anyway.)

She immediately came clattering down the steps of the tower, followed by her boyfriend Billy. To show her I meant no harm, I flashed the light on my face, which was unshaven and dirty after a week in the woods. I probably looked much more dangerous than Billy! I asked if she needed a ride home. She said, "No, Billy will take me," and the two went off in search of their car. I felt very chivalrous, having defended a girl's modesty.

52 Weeks - Entering the Jet Age

If I had all the commemorative airplane models that my father (Harold Burk) received during his career as a travel agent, I'd be sitting on a gold mine.

Whenever a new plane (such as the Super Constellation) entered service, the airlines and/or manufacturers would hype the new technology by sending travel agents a model of that new model.

My father had this very plane (not the DIY model) on his desk for years and years. It was painted with the now-defunct Eastern Airlines colors, as this model is. He had others, too, but this one is most vivid in my mind.

My father was born just one year after the Wright Brothers successfully made their first flight and became, for a time, the most famous inventors in the world. I doubt Dad was in many planes before his service in WWII, but afterward, as a travel agent, he flew more than the average person--but not as often as he'd like.

One of Dad's perks was getting freebie tickets to tourist flights over what was then Idlewild Airport in Queens, NY (now JFK Airport). When I was in elementary school, our whole family would go over to Idlewild, flash those freebie tickets, and we'd all get on a prop plane for a 25-minute spin over the airport and NY harbor, including the Statue of Liberty. Can you imagine tourists getting that kind of quickie tour today? Well, technology really has changed--we can just sit at our keyboards and use Google Earth :) But the memories wouldn't be the same.

52 Weeks - The Saga of the Sock Monkey

Toys--sock monkeys! In the late 1950s, my mother (Daisy Schwartz Burk) acquired two pair of red heel socks and the instructions to make sock monkeys for my sister and me. My memory is that the "kits" came home from summer day camp, but however they arrived, my mother was excited about making them...at least the first one.

Mom had no sewing machine and didn't want one. Her mother, my grandmother Hermina Farkas Schwartz, was an expert with a treadle sewing machine and could have whipped up these monkeys in half an hour each (no exaggeration). But the directions looked simple enough for hand sewing and we girls thought the monkeys looked adorable, so Mom enthusiastically set to work.

That first monkey was probably fun to sew, but when it came to the second monkey, Mom's enthusiasm started to drain away. And now that I'm making a sock monkey for my sister's birthday (shh! don't tell her), I understand just how she felt. (BELOW is a photo of my completed gift sock monkey--yes, the one in the middle!)

The head, torso, and legs are made from a single sock. Getting the body to look just right isn't the hard part, especially if you have a sewing machine and you've got plenty of red yarn to cinch in body parts at the right places. It's the arms and ears and tail, made from the second sock, that are more challenging because little pieces of sock can unravel very quickly if you're not careful. It's not rocket science but it's a bit tricky.

Mom stuffed my sock monkey with old nylons (sis's monkey will be stuffed with odd bits of quilt batting). The original sock monkeys lasted for a long time but alas, all those beloved old stuffed animals eventually got loved to death.

A decade ago I found myself a ready-made sock monkey and it's been enjoying the hospitality of my guest room ever since. I found a second one for my sis around the same time, but her kitties have been enjoying it and the stuffing is leaking out. Now she'll have a brand-new, home-made sock monkey to bring back so many good memories of the original toys of our childhood!

52 Weeks - WINS, WMCA, WABC & Orchard Beach in the 1960s

Nostalgia today: New York City was (and probably is) a cut-throat radio town, and in the 1960s, rock 'n roll loving teens had their pick of some great stations and DJs. With our pocket-sized transistor radios, we could "spin the dial" and listen to:

• WMCA 570 AM, the home of the Good Guys. If I had a penny for every time my sister and I dialed in to answer a rock trivia question for a shot at winning a bright yellow Good Guy sweatshirt or 45 rpm record, I'd be a gazillionaire right now. Believe it or not, we did win a few times and until it fell apart, we had one of the sweatshirts (alas, long gone in the pre-eBay era). Of course our parents weren't thrilled about our monopolizing the phone with our dialing antics for an hour or too, but it was pretty tame fun. DJs I remember vividly include Harry Harrison and Jack Spector.

• WABC 770 AM, producer of the Silver Dollar Survey (countdown of top 40 songs) and the radio home of some of the most legendary rock 'n' roll DJs ever: Cousin Brucie; Dan Ingram; Scott Muni; Ron Lundy; the list goes on and on, too long to include here. The wattage of this AM station was so high that it could be heard quite a distance from New York, and was always clear and static-free when we tuned in at Orchard Beach. More below on the beach scene. No matter what top 40 song you wanted to hear, chances are you'd hear it more often on WABC, especially during "teen time" on weekends.

• WINS 1010 AM, which featured, among other DJs, Murray the K (and his famous submarine race-watching music--that's "make out" music for the uninitiated). Murray the K appointed himself "the Fifth Beatle" and rode the Fab Four's coattails during the early-to-mid 1960s. WINS, like its competitors, vied to be first to air the new single from some hot group like Dion & the Belmonts (from the Bronx, natch) or the Tokens (The Lion Sleeps Tonight, remember?).

Orchard Beach, in the Bronx, is a man-made beach only 30 minutes or so away from where my family lived at the time. (The beautiful and expansive Jones Beach on Long Island was a lot further away from our apartment and required the use of a car, which we didn't own. My aunt would drive us there once or twice every summer as a treat.)

On a hot summer day, my sister and I would hop two buses and walk down the hot sand of Orchard Beach until we got to THE section where teens hung out, Section 10. Nearly every transistor radio in the place was tuned to WABC by design: As you walked the length and breadth of Section 10, you'd never miss a note of your favorite Paul Revere & the Raiders song or the Rolling Stones ordering people off their cloud. The aroma of Coppertone was everywhere and summer seemed to fly by too quickly.

Matrilineal Monday - the Steiner sisters

My husband's maternal grandmother, Floyda Mabel Steiner McClure (1878-1948), was the baby of nine in her family. Here's a photo of Floyda with three of her sisters. From left, Carrie E. Steiner Traxler (1870-1963), Blanche (Etta) Steiner Rhuark (1864-1956), Floyda, and Minnie Estella Steiner Halbedel (1867-1947). Carrie and Blanche lived around the corner from each other in Upper Sandusky, OH. Floyda lived in Cleveland.

The above photo must have been taken about 1938 or so. How do I know? The photo below, with Minnie at right and her husband Edward N. Halbedel (1865-1946) at left, includes my husband Wally, age about 3 or 4, and his younger sister. 

Recently I was in touch (via Ancestry) with a Traxler descendant and we plan to share info. I can hardly wait! More cousins to connect with. She and my husband both remember Aunt Blanche's parrot, who would say "Brice McClure" and "Polly want a cracker" over and over (and over and over). Why would the parrot be talking about Floyda's husband Brice? No clue, but it's a vivid memory for both.

Sentimental Sunday: 3 Generations of Ladies

After I married and moved away from NYC, mom (Daisy Burk, 1919-1981) didn't often see all of her girls all at once. It was a treat to be together on vacations and holidays!

Once Daisy's first grandchild was born, we made get-togethers a priority. Three generations of ladies in the family!

Wordless Wednesday - Paula and Ibolyka Schwartz

This is a Wordless Wednesday because alas, I knew far too little about my great-aunt Paula Schwartz and her daughter, Ibolyka (Violet), shown in a photo they sent  to my maternal grandfather Theodore (Teddy) Schwartz (original name "Tivador," as in the inscription) in 1930.

Paula and her sister, Etel Schwartz, never came to the US even though their older brothers (Teddy and Samuel) arrived in the early 1900s and subsequently pooled their money to bring their baby sister Marushka (Mary) Schwartz to New York, as well.

Paula and Etel died in the Holocaust in World War II, along with other siblings. Their father, Herman Schwartz, died some time before the war.

2022 update: I've learned a lot about the family by searching Yad Vashem's testimony and connecting with Ibolyka's daughter, who is my 2d cousin on the Schwartz side.

52 Weeks - You Are What You Eat? Junk Soup and Blintzes!

What my mother (Daisy Schwartz Burk, below) cooked wouldn't have made Auguste Escoffier happy...but she had a few notable dishes.

One was junk soup, so-called because anything she found in the fridge was fair game. She started with chuck steak, cut it up into chunks, browned it with a bit of onion, and then into the giant stock pot it went, along with potatoes, celery, carrots, and whatever was available. My sister remembers cans of mixed vegetables were usually part of the recipe because Mom knew we'd eat those (mostly--NOT lima beans for me). Hours later, with the addition of alphabet pasta to give her three girls a smile, junk soup was ready (and in such quantities that it made welcome encore appearances later in the week).

Another of Mom's specialties was cheese blintzes. Her filling recipe called for a mixture of pot cheese and farmers' cheese, two cheeses that weren't watery, plus an egg, a little sugar, and a pinch of cinnamon. The crepe "leaves" were made from eggs, milk, flour, sugar/salt. After making the leaves one by one, and covering the stack with a dish towel to keep them from drying out, she'd assemble the blintzes with a tablespoon or so of cheese mixture in the center, roll up each blintz, and lightly saute it in butter. Certainly Mom learned to make these from her mother, Hermina Farkas Schwartz, whose apple strudel and home-made chicken soup (with home-made egg noodles, made and cut and dried at home) were legendary in the family.

And then there's chopped liver, another of Mom's specialties. She hand-chopped the chicken livers to the right consistency, after they were sauted with onion and mixed with hard-boiled eggs, plus (I assume, in the early days) schmaltz. Add a little salt and pepper and you're on your way to cholesterol city, but a happy journey it is.

She wasn't a happy baker. In fact, she never baked until her daughters begged her to make us cookies (and let us help in the prep). Then she confessed that the oven didn't work right and getting the landlord to make repairs was a long process. Eventually she succeeded and surprised us when we came home from school one day with some kind of fruit bar she baked from a mix. We loved them! At least I did until I unfortunately glanced at the box and saw I was eating fig bars. Ugh! Never touched them again, but now we were on our way to brownies and other easy-to-bake goodies.

My father, Harold Burk, rarely cooked but in his 60s, he became interested in baking apple pies and every fall, he'd experiment with crust and filling to get the highest pie (sky-high pie, he would say) with the flakiest pastry. If his pie fell in after baking, he'd say something like "next year." I'd enjoy eating Dad's apple pie no matter what it looked like.

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History by Amy Coffin is a series of weekly blogging prompts in 2011 to encourage us to record memories and insights.

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy - Home is where the elevator is

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My parents Daisy Schwartz Burk and Harold Burk lived their entire lives in New York City apartments and I was brought up here, one of twin apartment buildings just a block from a huge park in the Bronx. Getting into an elevator every day (many times a day) was part of the experience. 


In the summer, when we were playing in front of the building and the Bungalow Bar ice cream truck came around, we'd yell up to my mother to ask for money. She'd tie two dimes in a handkerchief and float it out the living room window to the street below, where we picked up the bundle and bought choco-covered pops. (Mister Softee trucks came later.)


When my mother tried her hand at writing children's stories, she wrote about children going to visit their grandparents and vying to push the elevator button for the right floor . . . exactly how we visited our maternal grandparents (Teddy and Minnie Farkas Schwartz) every other Sunday for dinner. They lived in an apartment building near Tremont Avenue in the Bronx.


My paternal grandmother Henrietta Burk lived just a few apartments away on the same floor where we lived here on Carpenter Avenue in the Bronx. In fact, as I've noted elsewhere in this blog, most of my father's family lived in this apartment building: His older sister Millie Lang lived on the top floor with her husband and my cousin Elliot, his brother Sidney Burk lived with their mother Henrietta on our floor. (Grandfather Isaac Burk had died 7 years before my birth, so I never knew him, but my cousin Ira is named after him.) Only my father's younger sister lived elsewhere, in Queens.


When I was growing up, this part of the northeast Bronx was a "suburban" area, where one-family homes dotted the side streets and apartment buildings dominated many of the corners and avenues. Because the elevated subway line was just a few blocks away, it was an especially convenient location for commuters (like my father) going to work an hour away in Manhattan. 

Sorting Saturday - McClure Shade Shop Card Is Genealogist's Dream

It's sorting Saturday, and I'm looking through the odds and ends in the STEINER file (one of my resolutions is to do more tracing on this branch of my husband's family tree). In the file was this business card. Why would a card for B.L. McClure's Shade Shop be in the Steiner file?

The back of the card holds the key: Brice Larimer McClure (my husband's maternal grandfather) was married to Floyda Mabel Steiner. Here, someone has listed Floyda and her siblings, in birth order, by first name. A dream find for a family genealogist!

The front probably tells me when these notations were made, because someone has thoughtfully listed the current age of each of the siblings. "O.-79" refers to Orville, born 1856. "F.-57" is Floyda, born 1878. My reasoning is that the notes were written in 1935. Since Orville died in 1936, I'm almost positive about the date of the notes being 1935.

Another scrap of paper in the file lists Jacob S. Steiner and Elizabeth, his wife, age 62 years when the note was written. The back of the scrap shows "Joseph Rinehart, 81 years" but I'm not sure who he was, and Margaret Rinehart. Another scrap shows "Edward G. Steiner," born 28 May 1830, died Mar 13, 1880" and this was Floyda's father, definitely, meaning he's my husband's great-grandfather. More investigation is needed to determine the relationship of all the rest of these relatives to each other and to my husband.

As an aside, Brice (known as "The Old Gentleman" in his later years, within the family) ran this shade shop out of his home, which I know because he and Floyda and their daughter, Marian Jane McClure, were living there at the time of the 1930 Census. The house, he told the Census taker, was worth $9,000 and he owned it. Also he had a radio! His occupation was "machinist" in a shop. The shade shop must have been a sideline. During the 1930s, I imagine everyone had a sideline to pick up extra cash.

2022 update: That listing of Steiner siblings, which I posted on my Ancestry tree, has been saved to other people's trees many dozens of times. It's the kind of original information that really helps support other documentation! 

Those Places Thursday: When the NYC Skyline Went Dark in 1965

Browsing through a book on New York Deco, I saw photos of the Chanin Building, located at 122 E. 42nd Street in New York City, opposite Grand Central Station.

Instantly it brought back vivid memories of the Great Northeastern Blackout of November 9-10, 1965--the one that left most of the Northeastern US and Canada in complete darkness overnight and into the next day. As a young teen, I was already home from school on that Tuesday, when the blackout hit during evening rush hour. Electricity was out and there was no way of knowing when it would return. We had battery-powered transistor radios and soon found out what had happened.

My mother was just finishing her work day on the 22nd floor of the Chanin Building when the power went out. Unless she walked down all the way to the street level and then hitched a ride from the middle of Manhattan to the northeast tip of the Bronx, she wasn't going to be able to get home that night. She didn't know then how lucky she was: If she had left 15 minutes earlier and gotten on a subway train for the hour-long ride home, she would have spent the night in a darkened subway tunnel awaiting the return of electricity.

For two teen twins and our younger sister, it was the start of a one-of-a-kind tame adventure. We were home, safe, in our apartment overlooking the Dyre Avenue subway line in the Bronx. In fact, because the outage happened when dusk was fast arriving, we could easily see that there were NO lights on the New York City skyline. This was a most unusual and memorable sight, to say the least.

Still, the phones worked, the gas stove and oven worked, so we could (and did) cook and play games by candle light and using flashlights. But Mom was stuck in the Chanin Building for the duration of the blackout. As it turned out, the lights came on about 13 hours later.

Mom had to wait her turn to call us, since the law office where she worked had only 1 or 2 phone lines. She called as soon as she could, before dinner, to check on us, and reassure us that she was OK. She called again later in the evening and told us that the people in the office had pooled their money to order from a sandwich shop down on street level, paying about $10 each for a sandwich that would have cost $2 or $3 on any other night. Of course the delivery guy had to walk up 22 floors to reach his customers, and then down again, so I understand why the shop raised its prices on blackout night, even though Mom fumed at the price gouging. That night she slept (poorly) on chairs pulled together to make a kind of bed.

At least Mom knew we were responsible teens and she didn't have to worry much about our safety, since we were already home. We kids were in a great mood, calling all our friends to yak endlessly about the blackout and ask whose parents were stuck where. My memory is that we even invited a friend to come over, and at some point she arrived (probably the next morning after the subways started running). I don't think there was school on Wednesday, Nov. 10th, and the day after that was Veteran's Day, which may have helped get things back to normal. 

Reports say that this was a peaceful blackout, with New Yorkers treating each other civilly and offering assistance where possible. My mother was tired but happy to be home when the lights came on and she could ride home on the subway. And I still remember the night of no lights in the New York City skyline. Very spooky.

Camp Days in Cleveland Heights, 1951 - Amanuensis Monday

Just yesterday I came across this photo reminder of my husband Wally Wood's days as a junior counselor at the YMCA camp outside of Cleveland Heights, Ohio. Wally's third from right in front row, next to the guy who looks like a Marine drill sgt (the actual counselor). Wally remembers his parents dropping him off for the week of camp with a "car full of crap" (clothes, equipment, etc).

This is under the heading of "amanuensis" because the campers and the senior counselor signed the back of this photo! Below are all the names, transcribed, as best as I can make out. Looks like the campers were practicing their cursive handwriting skills.

Don MacMillan
Jim Palermo
Shepard Linsday
Ted Gaeblen [maybe?]
Bob Berd
Arthur Krueger
Fred Wilson
Michael Glaser
Marc Konrissen
Doa Leo
Toms Stevens

PS the envelope tells a lot about Stan's Studio Inc., which took the photo. What it says is:

Stan's Studio Inc.

Weddings - Baby Pictures - Portraits

See Our Kiddyland, Cleveland's Largest and Finest

3025 West 25th Street

Cleveland 13, Ohio

Tel. MAIN 1-7066

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History - Bad Car Karma

This week's blog prompt is "cars." Actually, my first vehicle wasn't a car, it was a motorcycle (a Yamaha 50cc stepthrough, which I'm driving in the photo here). 

But that's a story for another day.

 My very first car was a used, powder blue 1969 Mercury Cougar "pony car," designed to compete with the fabulous Mustangs of the era. I didn't have a GT model, shown at top, but all other details were as you see them . The headlight covers rolled up when the lights were switched on, the center console was sporty and elegant, the seats were cushy and comfy, the engine purred. It was a real creampuff. So why don't I have a photo to put here, instead of a photo from "HowStuffWorks" site? 

Well, one night I was working late in my job as a retail store manager in suburban Boston, while a hurricane raged outside. After 9 pm, when I locked up to go home, I looked around the parking lot--my car was nowhere in sight! (It wasn't hard to figure this out, because there were NO cars in the lot at that point.)

I reported the theft, called hubby to get a ride home, and waited for the call that finally came two days later. The cops found my car! Only problem: They fished it out of a lake 200 miles away. (Now ask yourself: Who would steal a car in the middle of a hurricane and drive it into a lake?)

The insurance company totaled it and with the pittance I received, I bought a 1968 1/2 Mustang, another blue pony car. This one was the opposite of a creampuff: There was so much underbody rust that if you picked up the floor mats, you could see the road beneath your feet. Seriously. But the car had 4 wheels and drove well enough, and the price was right ($150 in cash). I drove that car for less than a year when my bad car karma struck again.

One morning, when I was already late for work, I went to unlock the driver-side door and noticed something funny. Instead of wheels, the car was balanced on cement blocks. Overnight, thieves had stolen all the wheels! New wheels would have cost more than the old car, so I sold the car ($50 net) and carpooled with hubby for a while.

My next used car was a 1970-something Dodge Dart, nicknamed the "Green Battleaxe." That car had one of the best engines of all time. It just kept going and going, with more than 140,000 miles on it, no problems at all. The outside was, well, beat up, but that was OK, since I was parking the car on city streets and didn't want to attract attention. The engine would have lasted for another 100,000 miles, easy. That's why bad car karma had to strike.

Getting ready to drive to the shopping center one day, I couldn't find the Green Battleaxe where I'd parked it. I walked round and round the neighborhood, but no car. Finally I came to the reluctant conclusion that once again, my car had been stolen. The cops mentioned how many thieves target Darts for the parts (especially that strong, sturdy engine). Many months later, the Dart was found at the other end of the city, abandoned and (you guessed it) with lots of parts missing. By then the insurance company had long ago settled the claim and all that was left was the paperwork (ugh).

Bad car karma has left me, finally. From 1995 to 2009, my husband and I replaced 13 windshields in our various cars, because of road debris kicking up to crack the glass again and again and again and again. But not lately. Can that good luck last?? 

(UPDATE in 2022: No replaced windshields yet! Little cracks but that's it.)

Treasure Chest Thursday - Baby Book

My husband's baby book has more than just fun facts from his early years--it also has names of relatives! It also has a lock of his hair from his first haircut decades ago :) No photos, but all entries were handwritten by my mother-in-law, and the book is in excellent condition. She even left notes about his formula and pablum.

The entries are easier to read in reality than they look in this scan, and there are lots and lots of names scattered through the pages. This year I'm going to start tracing his Steiner and Traxler lines, and both names are here. So my treasure chest item for today is this baby book. Are there baby books in your treasure chest?

Wordless Wednesday - Seeking Isaac Burk's Family

One of my research priorities this year is to find out more about the family of Harold Burk's father, my paternal grandfather, Isaac Burk (1882?-1943). Above is Harold (my father), when he was in his 20s, looking impossibly young!

2022 update: I've learned a lot about Isaac since then. See his brother's ancestor landing page.

Shopping Saturday - Browsing in the Bronx and Downtown NYC

Living in the Bronx, our big shopping excursion would be to Fordham Road, where chain clothing and shoe stores lined the big street leading to the Grand Concourse and major emporiums like Alexander's (founded by the Farkas family, but not my Farkas family). After shopping, we might visit Krum's for a malted and then walk back to the bus (and transfer to a second bus or the subway for the trip home).

It was really a shopping crossroads and on a busy Saturday, you could always count on meeting someone you knew. (In those days, there were no Sunday shopping hours, so Saturday was THE big day for browsing and buying.) One day, as a teenager, I had emptied my wallet and pockets buying a new sweater and skirt for date night that evening. Although I usually had subway tokens in my penny loafers in case of emergency, there were none that day. I stood at the bus stop and waited for nearly an hour until someone I knew (some adult, but I don't remember who) came by and lent me the 20 cents needed to board and get home! Big borough but small world.

Back to the late, great New York City stores that filled the newspaper ads of my childhood. Our penny loafers came from Best & Co, and lasted for more than a decade. Alas, Best & Co is long gone. For years I would walk past B. Altman at Fifth Avenue and 34th Street, on my way to a job at 31st Street and Sixth Avenue (renamed "Avenue of the Americas" but no self-respecting New Yorker ever called it that, ever). Above is the B. Altman building, which is now a graduate school center of the City University of NY.

The list of once thriving and now defunct NYC stores that I remember seeing (occasionally shopping in) goes on and on: Peck & Peck, Simon's, A & S, Gimbel's, Arnold Constable, Bonwit Teller, May's, S. Klein, Korvette's.

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy and History - Winter

Week #2's challenge is to write about winter. Growing up in the Bronx, NY, nearly every December our parents took me, my twin, and our younger sister on the subway downtown to see the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree and walk along Fifth Avenue gawking at the holiday displays.

Many years we went to Radio City Music Hall to see whatever blockbuster movie was opening and the main attraction, the Rockettes' Christmas show. (I think I recall seeing "The Sundowners" there.) It was thrilling to see the organ slide into view as the deep chords started the show. At intermission, the luxe bathrooms were a big attraction.

A real treat was going to the elegant Savoy Plaza (later the Savoy Hilton) Hotel, above, where my father Harold BURK and his brother Sidney Burk maintained their travel agency (see my father at his desk, below). The hotel had a Trader Vic's restaurant and we loved tiki meals! But once the GM building was built, it was goodbye to the hotel and the restaurant . . . and my father's travel agency. That's a story for another day. (2022 update with link to GM Building history)

In those days, we kids would drag our sleds over to Bronx Park after a big snowfall, spend an entire day going down the gentle hills, and return home positively encrusted with snow. I don't remember many times when snow forced schools to close, but this must have happened more than a few times.

The elementary school was 10 blocks away, no school bus, so yes, we really did walk 1/2 mile each way in all kinds of weather (and often we walked home for lunch and back again!). No wonder fitness wasn't an issue. No school cafeteria*, so anyone who brought a lunch (which we usually did during heavy rains or very cold weather) ate in the school basement, sitting on benches. *My sister says there was a cafeteria in the basement, and the food was (stereotypically) terrible and she preferred the bag lunches!

And who could forget my mother's beloved Persian Lamb coat? She's wearing in the above photo from her wedding day in November, 1946. For years, she'd wear that when the temperature dropped. We kids loved to run our hands through it, another winter memory.

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History - New Year's traditions and resolutions

Happy new year! First, a couple of resolutions for 2011's genealogy projects:

• Learn all about my new Mac FTM software and move my files from the old PC version to the Mac. 2022 update: Switched to RootsMagic for Mac.
• Keep entering info and citing sources (this is one of my weak spots--I love to solve genealogy mysteries but don't find it anywhere near as much fun to write things up).
• Label more of the family photos that I protected in individual sleeves last year.
• Keep blogging as cousin bait! Can't wait to meet my newly found cousins this spring.

Now for traditions. Whenever my father and his brother and brothers-in-law got together (which might have been on New Year's Day but also one or two other holidays), they played pinochle. I still have the two-deck card set they used. Although I never understood the game, I know they were expert and enthusiastic about playing. So at the table would be my father, Harold Burk; his brother, Sidney Burk; and his brothers-in-law, Charles Lang (married to my aunt Millie) and David Bourstein (married to my aunt Miriam). Lots of laughter but also intense concentration.

The New Year's Eve I most vividly remember was when I was 17 and went to Times Square with my boyfriend, my closest girlfriend, and her boyfriend. Maybe we took the subway (who remembers? It was that long ago), or perhaps one of the guys drove us all from the Bronx. I remember the crowds and excitement, the cold, and the jubilation when the ball dropped at midnight. We all counted along (yes, just like on TV) and kissed at the stroke of the new year. Once was enough. I can say "been there, done that."

My husband's family had a quieter New Year's Eve in Cleveland Heights, because his father Edgar J. Wood always had a gig playing in a band that evening. Insurance adjuster by day, Ed was a professional piano player on the weekends and was booked for New Year's Eve by October every year. Photo above shows him in one of the college bands he joined while at Tufts. He and his friends worked their way across the Atlantic and back by playing on cruise ships, then picked up gigs in Europe to cover room and board for the summer between semesters.

May the new year bring you many family tree discoveries and reunions with long-lost relatives.

Family Recipe Friday - Grandmother McClure's Butterscotch Brownies

Floyda Mabel Steiner McClure, my husband's grandmother, made these not-too-sweet butterscotch brownies. You can see her below, reading to my husband (pre-TV days).

For a little Christmas family bonus, we gave out copies of this recipe held in a cute glass recipe holder clip, along with specialty toppings to be attached with icing.

Grandma McClure's Butterscotch Brownies

7/8 cup flour
1/4 tsp baking powder
3/8 tsp salt
1/2 cup butter (or margerine)
3/4 cup brown sugar
2 eggs, well beaten
1/2 tsp vanilla
1 cup chopped walnuts (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9" or 8" round or square pan.
2. Sift flour with baking powder and salt. In a separate bowl, cream butter and add sugar gradually to blend thoroughly.
3. Stir in eggs and vanilla to butter/sugar mixture. Then stir in sifted ingredients. Add nuts if desired. Batter will be fairly smooth and thin.
4. Spread batter in greased pan, bake at 350 for 20 min. Check for doneness with a toothpick. If toothpick is clean/dry, remove brownies from oven.
5. Cool, cut into squares, dust with powdered sugar, and serve with ice cream for best taste!

Sharing recipes from ancestors is one way to keep family history alive--as discussed in my genealogy book, Planning a Future for Your Family's Past.

Sorting Saturday - Christmas Tradition

The origin of this family Xmas tradition is lost to the mists of time, but we have an annual Silly Sox contest. The goal is to make the youngest child (who's the judge) laugh and choose which pair of socks is the silliest. Not ugliest, not cutest, but silliest.

Years later, we're still laughing at the ridiculous socks family members presented in an effort to win the biggest laugh from the youngest child. (Last year's winner had a hawk head on a chicken body, which only an 8-yr-old would think is sillier than the pirate sox I entered, right?) Today the competition is cut-throat :) And although it's not the kind of competition that fits neatly into a Family Tree Maker category, it's fun to remember and even more fun to enter.

I've been runner-up for 2 yrs in a row. But this year, in sorting through the possibilities, I believe I have sure-fire winners. Take a look (above) and let me know what you think. I'll post other people's entries another day. This is a sneak peek of mine (the contest begins in a few hours). Note that I went to the scrapbooking section of the local craft store and gussied up my chosen sox just a bit. Skulls aren't silly unless they're doing something silly, right?

UPDATE: Nope, I didn't win (again). The judge disqualified sox that had been "customized." So all my wonderful creations were pushed to the side. This year's winners were the penguin slipper-sox wearing red hats (at 12 o'clock to 1 o'clock on photo above). The rest of the sox paraded on family tootsies were pretty silly too.

Next year's rules, according to the judge: The winner will be the pair that's most surprising. Hmm. Better get busy. Only 364 more days to go! Happy holidays to all.

Treasure Chest Thursday - "Cousin Bait" Blog

Over on "West in New England," Bill West posted a message he called "What is the worth of a genealogy blog?" Some of the people who commented on Bill's post mentioned genealogy blogs they called "Cousin Bait."

That's my theme for Treasure Chest Thursday--Cousin Bait.

I'm not a professional genealogist nor is my blog intended as a scholarly recitation of my family history. The real reason to maintain my blog is, as my masthead says, "Finding out about ancestors and connecting with cousins!"

In other words, the true treasure (for me) is in connecting with cousins. Thankfully, I've been blessed with quite a treasure trove of cousins to connect with. Most recently my 2nd cousin Lois "found" me when she searched for her grandfather's name and up popped a blog post I'd written about hoping to find out his story. Her grandfather was my great-uncle by marriage to my great-aunt, Ida Mahler, and in trying to learn about them, I've now connected with her.

Cuz Lois has lots of stories to tell about this line of our family! And she's delighted to share her stories with me. Just as important, she's introducing me to my other 2nd cousins--cousins that, thanks to Lois, I'll be meeting in person in just a few months. 2022 update: We are still in touch and it's a joy to know this part of the family.

So I like the idea of a Cousin Bait blog because it brings me closer to my treasured family connections. Yay for Cousin Bait blogs! And here's hoping that 2011 will bring more cousins together, in your family and in mine.

Wordless Wednesday - Numbers tell the story

465

That's the number of days until the 1940 Census is released. And I can hardly wait! For one thing, the Census asked everyone 5 and older where they were living on April 1, 1935, filling in some blanks for where my ancestors were living between the 1930 and 1940 Census periods.

The 1940 Census will include a special series of questions--more data! In addition, there will be extra info about housing, although Dr. Weintraub (see comment below) says this is unlikely to be released for individuals.

Looking forward to April 2, 2012! But first, happy 2011.

2022 update: The release of the 1950 US Census has been accompanied by a basic search function for name and location, enabled by AI/handwriting recognition technologies. For more about this Census, see my summary page here.

Ancestors in the Newspaper

Sometimes we find out something about our family tree because a distant relative or ancestor is mentioned in the news--often because of something bad that happened. My friend Mary's ancestors made the newspaper because they were involved in mysterious illnesses and death.

My grandfather Theodore SCHWARTZ made the newspaper because he was robbed.

His lone news coverage was in a New York Times article of Dec. 17, 1937, titled: "Band Robs 3 Stores; Three Armed Men Get $300 in Series of Bronx Raids."

Grandpa's grocery store at 679 Fox Street in the Bronx (above, with Grandpa at the counter) was robbed, he was hit on the head with a pistol butt when he resisted, and robbers stole $50 from his store.

That $50 represented a lot of money for my grandparents, especially during the Depression, when customers had difficulty paying their monthly tab.

So now, with Dec 17th just a couple of days away, I'm paying tribute to Grandpa's bravery in trying to resist...and then having to go home to tell Grandma that they were out of pocket by $50.

What Was Really Important to My Ancestors, the Journey Takers?

Leslie Albrecht Huber asks this question in her new book, The Journey Takers. It's a really interesting question to think about as I delve into my family's history, trying to figure out not only where my ancestors came from but also why they left on their journey to America, how they left, and what they expected in their new lives here.

I was lucky enough to be in the audience when Leslie spoke to the local genealogy club last night, and her presentation was both inspiring and informative. Her ancestors' immigration experiences were entirely different from those of my grandparents and great-grandparents, and so it was especially intriguing to follow along as she discovered her family's hometowns and pieced together a picture of what their lives were like before and after their decisions to come to America. I also got some new ideas for immigration research and for understanding the social and historical context of my ancestors' challenges and successes.

Don't miss her book, which tells the fascinating story of her decade-long search for ancestors in Germany, Sweden, and England--with some unexpected twists along the way! Updated 2022 with fresh link. 

Wordless Wednesday - family gatherings

Every summer for years, the Farkas Family Tree (my maternal grandmother's side of the family) gathered for a weekend at a summer resort or bungalow colony to talk over old times, let the cousins get to know each other, and just plain have fun. This photo was taken in June, 1958 (I'm a twin at far right). My grandparents had just retired and this was a chance to relax with kin. Since we had no car, I'm sure we carpooled with my aunt (Mom's twin).

This photo was taken at the Pines, a long-abandoned resort in upstate New York. Sad to see the current photos of what was once a comfy summer getaway area.

Happy Thanksgiving - Parade Memories

Living in NYC, my family often went to the big Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, which meant getting up early and riding the subway an hour to get downtown to a street where we could see the floats and bands pass by. Of course Spider Man wasn't in the parade then, but other cartoon favorites were fun to see. Santa in his sleigh arrived at the tail end of the parade, then as now, much anticipated as the high point of the whole show. The crowds were enormous but we usually staked out a spot where we children could sit on a parent's shoulders or climb on a nearby statue or fountain to get a better view. If we were lucky, we'd come home with a little balloon of our own! My honorary aunt Lee Wallace directed this big parade for a number of years.

In other years, we watched the Macy's parade on TV and flipped channels to see the Dayton's parade in Detroit (after the Macy's parade was over) and the Gimbel's parade in Philadelphia. I didn't realize that the Philadelphia parade had continued after Gimbel's went bust in the 1980s, but now it's the a sponsored parade by another brand. 

Happy Thanksgiving and happy memories. (updated 2022)