For Remembrance Day, Honoring Lance Sgt Arthur Albert Slatter

My husband's 1c1r, Arthur Albert Slatter (1887-1917), was among the second generation of Slatters to choose military service as a career. 

Born in London, England, on July 2, 1887, he was the son of hubby's great uncle, Henry Arthur Slatter (1866-1942) and Alice Good Slatter (1864-1914). Great uncle Henry was a military bandmaster and not surprisingly, his son Arthur was musically inclined.  

With Remembrance Day approaching, I thought this post would be a straightforward bio of Arthur and his death while serving in World War I. To my surprise, there was more to the story, as I learned by digging deeper into his military service.

Serving with the Royal Fusiliers, 1902-1914

In 1902, supposedly at the age of 16 years and 11 months, Arthur enlisted for a dozen years of service in the Royal Fusiliers. He said he was a musician (see paperwork at right). 

In reality, Arthur was not yet 16, if his baptismal record and second record of military service are both correct--and I do believe them!

Thanks to Fold3 and Ancestry, I could read all pages of Arthur's paperwork documenting his initial time in the Royal Fusiliers. He trained as a stretcher bearer and ambulance driver, passed a swimming test, and qualified in chiropody (treating feet) at Parkhurst on the Isle of Wight. By 1913, he had been promoted to a corporal. This was one year before he was due to complete his 12 years of service.

From London to Vancouver, 1914-1915

In the ordinary course of events, Arthur would have gone on to the next stage of his life after earning a pension for a dozen years of service with the Royal Fusiliers. 

He was, in fact, honorably discharged on July 17, 1914, "on the termination of his first period of engagement." This was only a few weeks before the United Kingdom became embroiled in World War I. 

After leaving the Royal Fusiliers, Arthur journeyed to Vancouver, Canada, where his parents had moved in 1911. Arthur's father Henry was bandmaster of the 72d Seaforth Highlanders, and Arthur joined up as well. But tragedy struck on Christmas Day of 1914, when Arthur's mother Alice died at the age of 50. 

On May 20, 1915, after six months with the 72d, Arthur signed papers to serve with the Canadian Overseas Expeditionary Forces. He was single, in his late 20s, and he stated his occupation as "musician." (See excerpt above.)

The Plot Thickens

Upon enlisting, Arthur was made acting sergeant of the 11th Canadian Mounted Rifles and then promoted to provisional band sergeant by June, 1915 (see document directly above). By November of 1915, however, the red ink tells the story of an unexpected event: Arthur was discharged as a deserter, having apparently gone away in October of 1915. 

Yet Arthur somehow made it across the Atlantic and rejoined the Royal Fusiliers. That's clear from the index card at right. He was officially listed as wounded and missing in action in France as of May 20, 1917. At the time, he was serving in Company C of the 20th Battalion of the Royal Fusiliers. 

In addition, I found documentation that Arthur was awarded a Victory medal posthumously for WWI service in the 1st and 20th Battalions of the Royal Fusiliers. 

Somehow, Arthur unofficially left the Canadian forces and rejoined the Royal Fusiliers, but so far I haven't located the exact paperwork to indicate how he managed to do this in wartime.

Memorializing Arthur Albert Slatter and the Royal Fusiliers

More than 20,000 servicemen of the Royal Fusiliers, including Arthur Albert Slatter, lost their lives in World War I. The graceful Royal Fusiliers Memorial in London is a fitting way to honor their memories and service. 

Arthur's name isn't actually on the London memorial, but it is on the hauntingly stately Arras Memorial which serves to commemorate the passing of the many thousands of soldiers who died in the area during World War I.

Lance Sgt. Arthur Albert Slatter's name on the Arras Memorial has been transcribed and photographed on Find A Grave by volunteers. He has his own memorial page (shown at top of this post) that I've now linked to the memorials of his parents.

There is one more memorial to Arthur Albert Slatter: His parents, Henry and Alice, chose to add their son's name to their joint gravestone in Mountain View Cemetery, Vancouver, Canada. Arthur's name is not in the cemetery's database because he's not actually buried in Vancouver. But looking at the photo of Henry and Alice's gravestone, I noticed his name/date below theirs. 

When Henry Arthur Slatter died in 1942, his obit stated that his son Arthur Albert Slatter had been killed in action during World War I, a final bit of evidence that I am honoring the memory of the correct Slatter ancestor on my husband's family tree.

This is my Genealogy Blog Party post for November, 2020.

Continuing to Curate My Genealogy Collection

As I curate my genealogy collection, I'm finding new homes for items with historical value but no real family-history value.

Case in point: The Cleveland Plain Dealer newspaper from Monday, December 8, 1941. Shown at top, it is intact and in good condition, despite being folded neatly for nearly 80 years.

My Cleveland-born father-in-law (Edgar James Wood, 1903-1986) and his entire family had gathered around the radio on the night of December 7th, listening to the terrible news about Pearl Harbor. When the next day's newspaper arrived, he wrapped it and put it away in a dry, safe place.

Because many families did the same thing, this newspaper is anything but rare. In fact, other historical societies and museums I contacted already had one or more copies of this day's newspaper and didn't want another. 

But after exchanging emails with a senior library official at Cleveland State University in Ohio about donating Cleveland theater programs from the 1950s, I brought up the subject of donating this 1941 newspaper. I explained my worry that the paper would inevitably deteriorate little by little unless kept under the proper archival conditions.

Understanding my concern, the official agreed to accept this issue of the Plain Dealer. My husband signed a deed of gift agreement, legally transferring ownership to the university library, found protective packaging to keep the newspaper safe during its journey to Cleveland, and sent it on its way. 

The acknowledgement of this donation arrived the other day. It feels good to know this item is in an appropriate repository, and will NOT be tossed in the rubbish or sold for pennies at a flea market after I join my ancestors!

--

Want to learn how to curate your genealogy collection? I'm giving a members-only virtual presentation to the Virtual Genealogical Association on Tuesday, November 24, starting at 8 pm. The VGA's membership fee is extremely affordable ($20/year), and includes benefits like webinars and discounts and more. Please check it out if you're not yet a member! 

The Perils of Researching Pauline

 

It took a village to overcome a number of perils in researching Pauline Jacobs, who sadly died at a very young age.

Pauline, my 1c2r, was a daughter of paternal g-g-uncle Joseph Jacobs (1864-1918) and g-g-aunt Eva Micalovsky Jacobs (1869-1941). She was a younger sister of Flora Jacobs, whose life I wrote about yesterday.

My first actual document recording Pauline's death (see above) came from the cemetery where she's buried, Mount Zion in Maspeth, New York. The cemetery has a handy "interment search" where I located Pauline, her sister Flora, and her parents and grandmother, all buried in the Plungianer Unterstutzungs Verein plot. They copied and sent me Pauline's interment record, shown at top of this post.

Even with this information in hand, I still faced four perils in researching Pauline!

Peril One: Details Count 

If I had not seen the cemetery record card with my own eyes, I might have believed the incorrect death index for Pauline, shown at right, which indicates 1908 as her year of death. There is no access to images of the actual index, just this transcription. In general, I prefer to see for myself, not blindly trust transcriptions.

My guess is that the actual death info was received by New York City in 1908, since Pauline died just two days before the end of 1907. But I believe the cemetery got the year correct and the index/transcription was incorrect. Therefore I searched for Pauline's official death cert with the assumption she died in 1907.

Peril Two: Limited Access to Images

Searching on FamilySearch.org, I could see that Pauline's death cert was in fact in the database. However, images of many vital records are accessible only at a Family History Center. The pandemic has mostly closed these down for the time being. 

Happily, I knew from social media that a few volunteers regularly visit FHC parking lots and access the database wirelessly to pull images by request. It's impossible to say enough good things about these volunteers, who are incredibly generous with their time and energy.** 

A kind parking lot angel saw my FB request for Pauline's death cert (I provided full details, including the cert number from the index and my belief that the year was 1907). Within a few minutes, she had accessed and sent me the image, for which I am truly grateful. 

The cert says Pauline had been treated for 3 weeks at Willard Parker Hospital in New York City (specializing in communicable diseases). The cert also solved the medical mystery of Pauline's untimely death at the age of 7. Well, it would have if I could have deciphered the cause of death. 

** During 2021, Family Search is offering a remote lookup service that takes the place of parking lot angels. I've had very good luck using this service! Try it.

Peril Three: Handwriting and Medical Jargon

The cause of death was handwritten...and I couldn't decipher what it said, let alone what it meant. More eyes were needed. I took a screen shot of the cause of death and posted on Twitter with a request for #Genealogy help. And I got out my tissue box, ready to cry.

Within moments, answers began pouring in. Not only did these savvy folks know that the cause of death was scarlatina (scarlet fever), but they read the rest of the details: 24 days, sepsis. Scarlet fever can be treated today but it was quite perilous in the early days of the 20th century, well before antibiotics, making me tear up. 

Thanks to the helpful Twitter community of genies, I knew a lot more about Pauline's fate. But I still needed one more piece of the puzzle for a better picture of Pauline's life.

Peril Four: Finding the Right Jacobs

My next quest was to obtain little Pauline's birth certificate. I clicked to the Italian Genealogical Group's New York City vital records databases and searched for births of "Jacobs, Pauline" after 1899 and before 1902. Jacobs is a fairly common name, of course. I began with her name as recorded on the cemetery and death documents. I would have tried "Jacob, Pauline" if no decent possibilities showed up--because different official records showed "Jacob" OR "Jacobs" for this family's surname at different times. 

I was able to narrow down the list of possibilities, as shown above, from the ItalianGen database results. In my opinion, the most likely is the second on the list, Pauline Jacobs, born on June 26, 1901. I decided it was worth paying $15 for this record and I ordered online from New York City, saving a week or more in the long waiting time for a response. 

Having overcome four perils of researching Pauline, I'll hope to see this birth certificate before the end of 2020. Meanwhile, I'm remembering this cousin who unfortunately died way too young, keeping her memory alive for future generations. 

-- This post is part of the Genealogy Blog Party "Virtual Research Trip" for July, 2021. 

Remembering Thoroughly Modern Flora

The 1c2r cousin in this picture is Flora "Florence" Jacobs (1890-1923), the first child born to my paternal great-great uncle Joseph Jacobs (1864-1918) and his wife, great-great aunt Eva Micalovsky Jacobs (1869-1941). 

Until this week, Flora was just a name from the past on my father's side of the family tree. 

Flora Jacobs in the Roaring 20s

Now I can see from the photo that my cousin Flora was thoroughly modern for the 1900s, a young woman of the Roaring Twenties with cropped hair and a fashionable frock. 

What an emotional experience it was to see Flora's face for the very first time. I am very grateful to the exceptionally kind photo angel who visited the cemetery and sent this closeup of Flora's gravestone. She also was thoughtful enough to post the gravestone photos on Find a Grave.

From US and NY Census records, I learned that Flora worked as a bookkeeper for a neckwear company in 1910, as a "forelady" in a garment factory in 1915, and as an operator on knitted goods in 1920. Working in New York City's garment district, she would have seen and wanted to wear the latest styles, I'm sure, gazing at her fashionable dress.

Flora Laid to Rest in Mount Zion Cemetery

Sad to say, Flora died of rheumatic endocarditis on September 26, 1923, only weeks before her 33rd birthday. She was buried in Mount Zion Cemetery in Queens, New York, near her father (who died 5 years earlier) and sister Pauline (who died 16 years earlier).

Flora's headstone, translated by the nice folks on Tracing the Tribe/FB, indicates that her Hebrew name was Bluma--"flower." She was named for her maternal grandmother,  Blume Manes Micalovsky - I found Blume's name on Eva's marriage license!

Notice the unusual wording "My beloved daughter" just above Flora's name? If I hadn't been aware of the father's death, this wording would be a hint that only one parent was alive when Flora died. The surviving siblings at the time were Louis, Hylda, and Frank Morris. 

In 2020, I'm remembering thoroughly modern Flora of the last century's Roaring Twenties and honoring her memory by keeping her story alive.

Remembering Great-Great Uncle Joseph, the Cap-Maker

On this day 102 years ago, my great-great uncle Joseph Jacobs died. Born in what was then Russia (but today is Lithuania), Joseph came to New York City via Castle Garden in the 1880s. He was a single young man, the first wave of immigration in his family, paving the way for his mother and his sister (and her family) to find more opportunity in America.

Joseph and his mother (my paternal great-great-grandma Rachel Shuham Jacobs) and sister (my great-grandma Tillie Jacobs Mahler) initially lived in the Lower East Side of Manhattan where so many immigrants crowded into small apartments. At the time he was naturalized in 1888, Joseph's occupation was "cap-maker" (see naturalization index card at top). This was a period when well-dressed men wore hats and boys of all ages wore caps, so his skill was in demand.

He married Eva Micalovsky in March of 1890. In December of that year, the couple welcomed their first-born child, daughter Flora. I'll be remembering Flora in tomorrow's post.

Why Joseph's Occupation Changed

In the 1900 US Census, Joseph was listed with his wife Eva and four children, still living on the Lower East Side. Now his occupation was peddler. Then in the 1905 NY Census, he was a janitor, supporting his wife and five children. I wondered about this change in occupation, because peddler and janitor jobs probably meant he earned far less than as a cap-maker. 

I got a hint of why he changed occupations when I found Joseph in the 1910 US Census. Joseph was no longer living with his wife and children. Instead, he was listed by the Census as being in the Montefiore Home & Hospital for Chronic Invalids. 

The enumerator wrote that Joseph was in his first marriage (correct), was married for 19 years (actually 20 but close enough), was 55 years old (sort of close), could read but not write (likely true), had petitioned for naturalization but was not yet a citizen (nope, he was naturalized years earlier). 

When Joseph died on November 3, 1918, the death certificate revealed the sad reason why Joseph had been hospitalized for so many years: his cause of death was "paralysis agitans" or Parkinson's disease. He is buried in Mount Zion Cemetery, Maspeth, New York, where others in his family were laid to rest.

On the anniversary of Joseph's death, I'm reminded of his courage as the journey-taker who left Eastern Europe so the rest of his family could have a better life in America.