52 Weeks of Genealogy: Books (of Parents and Children)

So many books, so little time! This is a shared posting with my hubby, Wally. First up, the books of my childhood and my memories of what was on my parents' bookshelves.

As a preteen, the first two novels I remember plucking off library shelves were: Sands of Mars, by the legendary sci-fi author Arthur C. Clarke; and Landfall the Unknown, a young adult novel by Evelyn Cheesman, an entomologist and prolific writer. 

Why these book titles have stuck with me all these years (when so many really important details have disappeared from my brain), I don't know. Both books deal with exploration and survival, one on Mars and the other on an uninhabited Pacific island. Interesting theme for a genealogy buff searching for ancestors who came to America from far-away homelands!

My father preferred newspapers (reading 2-4 a day on his one-hour commute to and from Manhattan) but my mother was an avid reader of books. When I was young, she'd fly through paperback mysteries of Erle Stanley Gardner, among others. After we girls were grown and gone, and she was on her own, she acquired a very eclectic collection of books to read and re-read, including The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire and various natural history books. Sometimes she'd dabble in a best-seller to see what the hub-bub was about.

Guest post by my hubby, Wally:

Starting around age 12, I got hooked on the Hardy Boys (see earlier post). In addition, Earth Abides by George R. Stewart impressed me when I read it as a 16-year-old. Earth is being swept by a disease (something like the 1918-9 flu pandemic), which kills 98% of the population. The story is the reestablishment of civilization, seen through the eyes of a man who survived and returns to the now-deserted city of San Francisco. What impressed me was how he and others managed to live among the remains of a society where the people had vanished but many man-made parts of the world still continued (food sits on store shelves, books are in the library, etc).

Rereading this 1949 best-seller as an adult, I was struck by Stewart's basically positive view of human nature. Although most post-apocalyptic novels portray a world where life is nasty, brutish, and short, Earth Abides portrays a world in which humans establish a new, positive civilization and culture on the ruins of the old.

My father didn't read books (just newspapers and magazines). But once a week in the summer, my mother and I (and probably my siblings) would walk to the nearest branch of the public library in Cleveland Heights, Ohio, where we'd all borrow a stack of books. The only book I remember my mother buying was The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand. I also read it as a teenager when it first came out, and was dazzled by the hero. Rereading it as an adult, however, I found it preposterous and problematic.

Wisdom Wednesday: Ancestor Hunting on Gen Blogs

When Dan Lynch first released his book Google Your Family Tree, which I highly recommend, he made a presentation to my local genealogical society. The minute I got back from his talk, I turned on my computer and put a few of his ideas to work--and quickly found a blog comment written by my long-lost first cousin, who I hadn't seen in decades!

As time went on, I developed a few useful tricks to supplement Dan's suggestions, tips I've shared in my own presentations to local genealogical societies. For example:

• Search blogs only. To search only blogs and only on genealogy, start at the Google home page. Enter your surname, add the word "AND," then enter the word "genealogy." Next, move your mouse along the menu at the top of the page until you see the drop down menu under the word "more" (as shown in this screen shot). Click on "blogs" and then click to start your search.

•  Use quotation marks around full names. When searching for a specific ancestor, search for the full name in "First Middle Last" order (typing "Thomas Haskell Wood" in the search box, with quotation marks as shown) as well as in "Last, First Middle" order (typing "Wood, Thomas Haskell" in the search box, with quotation marks). And don't just try "First Middle Wood"--also search possible variations like "First Middle Woods" and "Woods, First Middle." 

• Browse for surname genealogy blogs. Look at the lists of blogs on Genealogy Blog Finder and GeneaBloggers. You just might find one or more genealogy blogs devoted to the surnames you're researching.

• Include a search box on your blog. Make it easy for people to find surnames on your blog by including a search box, as I did at top right, just below the blog name/description.

Happy ancestor hunting!

52 Weeks of Genealogy: Secrets (What to Reveal and When?)

Spoiler: If you're looking for deep, dark secrets from my family's past, you won't find them here. Building trust with distant or newly-found relatives is hard enough without blabbing any "secrets" all over the Internet. But I do want to talk about how we, as genealogists, handle family secrets that might be painful or embarrassing to others.

From my vantage point here in the 21st century, it's no big deal that a child of the Depression was born 6 months after his parents' wedding (although both parents took the "secret" to their graves, carefully avoiding any discussion of their exact anniversary date). And it's hard to know whether a long-dead ancestor staved off bankruptcy by arranging a theft to collect insurance money. The situation can be interpreted in different ways by different people, and no one with direct knowledge is still alive to say.

What about the ancestor who died in an insane asylum? Early in the 20th century, chronically ill people were sometimes cared for in asylums because long-term care facilities simply didn't exist. This ancestor was in the asylum for at least 5 years, according to Census and death records, and may have had a heart condition or some other illness rather than a mental problem. Another ancestor died in a poor house, but I don't know any other details of how he came to be there and for how long, or why he wasn't taken in by a sibling who lived less than 200 miles away.

I want to respect the privacy and dignity of family members and yet, I want to tell the truth about my family's history. It's impossible to understand or explain what ancestors did if I don't know their circumstances. We genealogists are always speculating about the "why" of our family's movements and decisions. Knowing the real story can reveal a lot about the reasons behind an ancestor's actions and help us "walk a mile" in his or her shoes.

So here's my plan: I'm telling the true stories, as I know them, to selected family members who can be discreet, and leaving notes in the files. The genealogist of the next generation or the generation after can decide what to reveal and when. Use this knowledge wisely!

Tuesday Time Travel: 1885, the year Great-Grandpa Came to Manhattan

Meyer E. Mahler, my paternal great-grandfather, arrived at Castle Garden (shown above) in New York City in about 1885 (or as early as 1883). Born in Latvia in 1861, Mahler was already married to Tillie Jacobs Mahler and the father of 2 children when he came to America. He sent for his family (including his mother-in-law) just a few years later.

What was the world like when great-grandpa started his new life in the new world? I reread the wonderful Time and Again novel by Jack Finney, which takes place (partly) in the NYC of 1882, for a taste of the ordinary person's day.

• He was part of a huge influx. The decade of the 1880s brought massive waves of immigration from Eastern Europe, in particular. Meyer was one of many Jews who flocked to America (especially New York) seeking work, as well as to avoid conscription and deadly persecution. Meyer didn't speak English when he arrived, but he said he could speak (not read or write) by the time of the 1900 Census. Not a problem: Many people in the tenements spoke his native language and his children (even the two born in Latvia) learned English very quickly in public school; they must have served as interpreters for their parents on many occasions.
• The big city was getting bigger and busier. The Brooklyn Bridge (above) was only 2 years old when Meyer arrived, a triumph of engineering. A year after Meyer arrived, the Statue of Liberty would be dedicated. Elevated railways (with steam locomotives) were being expanded in Manhattan, but underground subways were still years in the future. Meyer and his family almost certainly walked everywhere, dodging horse-drawn conveyances (and detritus) all the way. It was noisy, dirty, and crowded. But he was his own man, and his family had new opportunities not available in the old country.
• Tenement life was tough. In the early years, great-grandpa and his family lived in Lower East Side tenement apartments (later moving to 105th Street in Manhattan, a much better neighborhood). Until the turn of the century, many tenements had outhouses, and electricity and gas were almost luxuries.
• Inventions? So what? Meyer was too poor (and too early) for the phonograph, the telephone, the automobile, Coca-Cola. Radio wasn't even a thought experiment yet. If he was lucky, he had an ice box and replenished the ice regularly. But one invention important to Meyer and family was the photograph. Like many immigrants, he had family portraits made for a few special occasions.
• Long, hard work week. Meyer was a tailor and most likely worked six days a week in a small sweatshop, possibly in the front room of a tenement flat, cutting and sewing by daylight when available and candlelight when necessary. Sewing machines were available, and he probably knew how to use one (but didn't own his own, at least at first). My cousin Lois inherited his tailoring tools, including his fabric shears! During the 1880s, the US labor movement gained momentum as workers fought for better conditions. Although Meyer would have known about unionization, he was unlikely to have been a union member, at least in the early years.
• Meyer wanted to live in a major city. Meyer saw New York as a place where he could practice his religion and be sure his children married within the faith. His oldest son (born in Latvia) never married but his oldest daughter (also born in Latvia) married in 1906, and she was my grandma. Just four years later, Meyer died of cancer. His widow Tillie outlived him by more than 40 years.

For more about this family, see my ancestor landing page here. (2022 update)

Military Monday: A WWII Officer Answers Mom's Note

On Memorial Day, my thoughts turn to family members who've served our country in the military. Looking for a photo to scan and post, I chanced across this letter written to my mother (the then-unmarried Daisy Schwartz) on April 17, 1945. 

The writer, Major A. Schn___(illegible), showed a return address of Northington General Hospital in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. Although the hospital no longer exists, it was a major war-time medical center specializing in plastic surgery. 

I don't know whether AS was recuperating or on staff, but he clearly knew Mom from an office job she had during the war. This is the only letter AS ever wrote her (if there were others, they haven't survived), but it speaks volumes about his longing for an end to the war and his knowledge that my mother hoped to settle down and marry some day soon. She was 25 at the time AS wrote, and her first date with Dad (Harold Burk) was still six months in the future.

Here's what Major AS wrote:

Dear Daisy,

What a pleasant surprise it was to read your most welcome note at the end of your boss' letter. And to learn that you still like me made the outlook in this war-torn world much brighter for me. Now wouldn't these words sound swell if they came from a single, unattached fellow? Trouble is there are too many men off to war, and the rest haven't been lucky enough to meet you yet. Perhaps at your new job there'll be plenty of eligible men around to recognize your charm. Then you'll need a bat to keep them in line.

     So you're really going to leave Charlie Phillips? He'll surely miss you, I know, and the office just won't be the same. But you must know what you're doing. So good luck! Let me know where you locate and what happens to you. Maybe I'll find your Prince Charming for you and I won't know where to send him.

     Best regards to you, Charlie, and Freddie. Here's hoping you have a swell vacation. Take a rest for me too. 

     Cordially,  AS

Wordless Wednesday: Photos Put Me in the Mood for Genealogy

Researching the world in which my ancestors lived, I'm writing a series of "Tuesday Time Travel" posts. Next week's post will be about the 1880s, when my great-grandparents came to New York.

This led me to reread Jack Finney's classic novel, Time and Again. If you have ancestors who lived in New York City in the 1880s, you'll enjoy this work because it evokes the period (1882) and the place (lower Manhattan). A number of photos and sketches illustrate the main character's time-traveling adventures, including some well-known views of Central Park more than 125 years ago.

I've also been browsing period photos from the NY Public Library, including this one of Grand Central Depot. The library's digital gallery has many thousands of photos, not just of New York. Definitely worth a look to get a feel for what the world was like for our ancestors, wordlessly.

Tuesday Time Travel: 1919, when Daisy Schwartz was born

Daisy and Dorothy Schwartz, my mother and her twin sister, were born on December 4, 1919. This photo shows them with their older brother Fred and their mother, Hermina Farkas Schwartz, in 1923.

The photo was most likely taken in front of P.S. 62 on Fox Street in the Bronx, across the street from the apartment at 651 Fox St, where my mother grew up. Just a few blocks away was Teddy's Dairy, owned and operated by Theodore (Tivadar) Schwartz, Hermina's husband (my grandfather).

This part of the Bronx was NOT Fort Apache at the time. Later, it developed a reputation for violence and crime. However, in 1919, it was an enclave for families, with good schools and neighborhood shopping, plus access to public transportation such as trolleys and subways. The public library was in easy walking distance ("a twice-weekly jaunt we made in the summer time," my aunt Dorothy remembered in a 1984 letter). 

What was the world like when Daisy and Dorothy were born? Think pandemic, patriotism, prohibition, and more.

• The pandemic was over but parents worried. Millions of people worldwide were killed by the 1918 flu pandemic, which by spring of 1919 was no longer the terrible threat it had been. Still, parents were afraid for the health of their children, especially in crowded NYC areas such as the Bronx, where all kinds of contagious diseases might spread quickly. No wonder Mom made sure that her children got vaccinations for everything.
• Patriotism! The Great War was over and homecoming ceremonies abounded. WWI had ended in 1918 but parades, memorials, statues, etc were commonplace in New York City as most troops returned home in 1919.The League of Nations was formed. Patriotism was in the air, and immigrants such as my grandparents were excited about and proud of their adopted nation.
• Prohibition?! The 18th Amendment to the Constitution outlawed alcohol but especially in New York City, this didn't seem to stop many people from drinking. Although my family wasn't big on alcohol in any case, widespread disregard for this law of the land influenced how people regarded "authority" when my mother was a child. She once told me, matter-of-factly, how NYC political party bosses routinely canvassed neighborhoods with offers of coal or something else in exchange for votes. Nobody batted an eye at these shenanigans.
• Skyscrapers were a NYC wonder. The race was on to build taller buildings in Manhattan, where real estate prices were sky high. The Woolworth Building, finished in 1913, was a marvel and President Wilson personally pressed the button to turn on its new electric lights. Before Mom graduated high school, many of the most famous buildings in the world had opened in NYC (the Empire State Building, for instance, opened when she was about to enter high school). Later, my mother worked in the Chanin Building, one of the iconic skyscrapers built when she was a child.
• Vote! My grandmother and mother always emphasized the importance of voting, which makes sense, since the 19th Amendment passed in 1919 and was ratified in 1920. Grandma was an independent lady anyway, working alongside her husband in the dairy store while bringing up three children. Daisy absorbed those values and exercised her right to vote. Me, too.

52 Weeks of Genealogy: Commercials (Winky-Dink!)

The entire Winky-Dink show was a commercial! Remember? It was the early days of TV and on our little black/white console we could get channels 2-13 from New York City (thanks to the big antennae on top of the Empire State Building). Winky-Dink was on CBS, channel 2.

I still remember my parents' frustration that we twins would take our crayons and write on the TV screen to help Winky-Dink get out of a tight spot by drawing a bridge or some such. They ultimately bought us some cheapy version of the product so we wouldn't ruin the TV. I bet they heaved a sigh of relief when the show finally, finally went off the air in 1957.

Speaking of TV, because my father was a travel agent with a desk at the Savoy Plaza Hotel across from the famous Plaza Hotel at 57th Street, he got various freebies, including tickets to TV shows that aired from New York City. My twin and I saw Howdy-Doody live (I remember the "kid wrangler" was a bit testy since we studio audience kids were rowdy). Also we were in the audience of the local Wonderama show, starring Sonny Fox.

We saw Ed Sullivan live at least once, but sadly never when the Beatles were the guest stars. Sometimes rock groups would stay at the Savoy Plaza or nearby Hampshire House and Dad would bring us home a 45 rpm record (not autographed) given to him by the manager of Gerry and the Pacemakers, for example. He looked like a hero to his teenaged twin girls!

Growing up, we thought going to see a TV show was just something all NYC kids did.

Treasure Chest Thursday: Siblings in Ungvar, 1915

I've been trying to learn more about the siblings of my maternal grandfather, Tivadar/Tivador (Theodore) Schwartz, born in Ungvar, Hungary (Uzhhorod in Ukraine today, see map).

In 2011, I knew Teddy was one of at least five children. In 2022, I now know he had more siblings. See the ancestor landing page for more info here.

The postcard photo at left is a treasure, unearthed in a box of newly-discovered family photos and documents. It shows Teddy's two sisters, Etel and Paula (back left and seated, right) and others, unknown, from the Schwartz family. It's dated August 15, 1915 and inscribed to Tivadar, my grandfather.

Clearly the young man is in uniform, but I don't know what country he's serving.* 

*Thanks to Greta Koehl, whose husband identified the uniform as Austro-Hungarian. Yes! This link shows such uniforms and hats. Another confirming detail. Thank you!

Wordless Wednesday: Ibolyka Schwartz in Folk Costume

Here's a newly-discovered photo of Ibolyka Schwartz--my first cousin once removed, daughter of my great-aunt Paula Schwartz. 

The handwritten name at bottom looks like it was added by my grandfather, Theodore (Tivador/Tivadar) Schwartz.

I wrote about Ibolyka (Violet) and her mother earlier this year, including a photo of Ibolyka as a child in 1930 in Ungvar (which was then part of Czechoslovakia but earlier and later, part of Hungary. Today, Ungvar is in Ukraine.)

This photo is undated, but she's wearing (I believe) a Hungarian folk costume and looks to be a teenager. Here's a translation of the Hungarian inscription on the back, with my thanks to John Kemeny for his assistance (see below for a scan of the original inscription): 

For Uncle Tivadar and family, memorabilia.
Respectful handkisses,    

                                                Ibolyka

This postcard was probably sent between 1938 and 1940, given Ibolyka's age and the internal political situation in Ungvar at the time. Within a few years of writing this post, I discovered that Ibolyka had survived the Holocaust but her mother and many of her aunts and uncles were killed. - 2022 update.

Tuesday Time Travel: 1909, When Marian McClure Was Born

This is the first in a series of "time travel" entries, looking at what was going on when/where my ancestors were born or at other significant points in their lives.

This entry is about my late mother-in-law, Marian Jane McClure, born in 1909 in Cleveland, Ohio. Here she is in May, 1955, with husband Edgar James Wood. Marian made the ceramic bird pin she's wearing. *Update in 2022: In the 1950 US Census, Marian and her husband Ed were living at 1142 Cleveland Hts Blvd in Cleveland Hts, Ohio, and his occupation was claims adjustor, casualty insurance company.

I know from the Census that in 1910, Marian was living with mother (Floyda Mabel Steiner McClure) and father (Brice Larimer McClure) at 567 E. 115 Street in Cleveland, Ohio. This was a quiet residential neighborhood with modest homes, off of St. Clair Ave, a major street. Her father, an expert machinist, worked as a wire weaver, making wire cloth.

Here are some of the influences on Marian's world in the Cleveland of 1909:

• Exploration was all the rage. Shackleton thought he'd arrived at the South Pole in early 1909 but he was actually nearly 100 miles away when he turned back. Peary and Cook were vying to "discover" the North Pole. Such travels of exploration captured the public imagination during the years leading up to WWI. Marian would have picked up some of these tales of undaunted courage. Her granddaughter is very interested in Shackleton, as it happens!
• Everyday life was changing. The Cleveland Electric Illuminating Company was wiring many neighborhoods. Even if Marian's home wasn't wired when she was born, it would be very shortly. Radio was the coming thing (Marconi shared the Nobel Prize in 1909); Marian would have grown up with radio programs in the background all her life. Air flight was in its infancy, but as an adult, Marian liked ocean-liner trips with her husband, Edgar. 
• No car? No problem. The interurban light rail system and streetcar networks were well-established ways to get around in Cleveland and beyond. Marian and her family could pay a few pennies to hop on a streetcar and visit friends and relatives. Her father, Brice, probably rode the streetcar to his job as a wire weaver. Cars were still expensive and rare, and not really needed (yet).
• City girl. With a population of more than 500,000, Cleveland was the 6th-largest U.S. city and by far the largest in the entire state. The Industrial Exposition of 1909 attracted more than 200,000 visitors, who were impressed with Cleveland's manufacturing might. Although Cleveland was spread out, residential neighborhoods like Marian's were only a few streets away from small shops (drugstores, bakeries, grocery stores, etc.) Marian lived in Cleveland most of her life. By the time she left Cleveland to move closer to grandchildren, the city's pollution had been mostly cleaned up and the Cuyahoga River no longer caught fire as it had many times before, starting in 1868.

Military Monday: What Dad Did in the War, 1942-1945

Second from left in the front row is Harold Burk, my father. He enlisted on March 7, 1942 at Camp Upton, NY. Maybe this is his basic training photo?

Dad served in the Army's 3163rd Signal Service Company, as a teletype operator and then as a personnel clerk, rising to the rank of Technician, 5th grade (insignia at right) by the time of his discharge in October, 1945. In all, he served for 3 years, 6 months, and 28 days.

The pinnacle of his advancement was becoming a sgt, but he didn't hold that post for long (see earlier blog post about his story about that experience).

Dad's military paperwork shows that he served in Central Europe and Rhineland (red/blue insignia above left), leaving for Europe in November, 1944 and returning to the US in July, 1945. At left are three photos of him, marked "Paris, April, 1945."

He received a "European-African-Middle Eastern Service Medal" as well as a good conduct medal. Sadly, I don't have either of his decorations, and he told precious few stories of his time in the service.

After his service was over, Dad didn't waste any time looking for the right gal to marry. Three weeks after his discharge, he met Mom (Daisy Schwartz) and kissed her on the first date, according to a letter she wrote to her best friend. By New Year's Day, 1946, they were engaged, and because of the severe post-war housing shortage, they didn't get married until November, 1946. My father wooed my mother endlessly during that time, sending her cards and letters when separated, many of which she saved for decades (and passed along to her daughters). He was 10 years older than my mother and eager to make up for lost time by settling down right away!

52 Weeks: Fame--I Danced on Broadway with Rum Tum Tugger!

Terrence Mann--yes, that handsome star--was my partner in an impromptu dance to the stage of New York's Wintergarden Theatre on the last Monday in February, 1984. Cats was still one of the hottest tickets in town.

At the time, I was an executive with a retail trade organization and was running a New York meeting for 300 credit managers from department stores around the United States. The committee head had arranged for the tickets on a free night during the meeting--it was his third time seeing Cats--and he made sure that I sat in K 120, an aisle seat mid-way up the orchestra section. (My twin sis was there too--her tx is above.)

When sexy Rum Tum Tugger (played by Mann) pranced off the stage in Act I during his big musical number, he ran up the aisle and stopped right next to my seat. He held out his hand to me, I grabbed on, and he pulled me up and into the aisle. Then he spun me around in a circle and we flew back down the aisle. He propelled me onto the huge stage, at the very center of the spotlight, in front of the cast and chorus (who kept singing and dancing in the background). Good thing I was wearing a nice outfit and my best makeup!

Astonished, excited, and blushing--but playing along--I mimicked Rum Tum Tugger's dance steps for a minute or two onstage. He then did something even more surprising: He reached down to the knee-length hem of my skirt, picked it up ever so slightly, and said to the audience, "Great legs!"

Rum Tum Tugger finally danced me back to my aisle seat, blew kisses to me, and went back to the stage. Throughout Act I and into Act II, every time this hunky guy left the stage to sing or dance in the aisles, he moved near me and blew me kisses. Again and again. I was so flustered that I couldn't pay any attention to the show itself. (In fact, I got tickets again the next year so I could enjoy the performance as part of the audience. I didn't sit in an aisle seat, and anyway, Terrence Mann had left the show by that time.)

I had no idea that dozens of the credit managers from my meeting were sitting in the mezzanine at that Cats performance! The following day, when I walked into the meeting, I was cheered (ahem, not jeered). The managers assumed that I had arranged my Broadway debut specifically because they were in the audience. I sheepishly admitted that I didn't know they'd be there and I certainly didn't expect to be dancing with Rum Tum Tugger. The committee head surely knew when he gave me the aisle seat--but he stayed mum before, during, and ever after.

So that's how I came to dance on Broadway with Terrence Mann. Want to see him as Rum Tum Tugger? Click here for the video snippet!

52 Weeks of Genealogy: Bedroom (Three's Company)

Time marches on. A long time ago, My two sisters and I shared a bedroom in our family's 2-bedroom apartment in the Bronx. (At that time, everybody we knew--everybody--lived in an apartment, except for one friend whose parents lived upstairs in a two-family home.)

Three's company in one crowded bedroom: Three beds, a standing closet, a bureau, and three active girls.

On a rainy day, we'd push all the beds against the walls and march around to the music of "Zulu Warrior" blasting from the record player. Stomp, stomp, stomp, it's a wonder our downstairs neighbors didn't go ballistic!

On summer nights, the windows would be wide open to let in the breeze. This also let in night-time sounds, such as the distant rattle of trains on the elevated subway line, one l-o-n-g block to the east. Although there was a bit of street noise from the occasional car driving along Carpenter Avenue, where our windows faced, traffic was pretty sparse in those days.

Our bedroom was painted one of two colors: Landlord beige or landlord green. Every three years, the landlord was required to repaint, and those were the "standard" colors for everybody. (Want something different? Tip the painter privately for paint and special treatment.)

Wedding Wednesday: My Farkas Family

In 1932, my great-aunt Jeanne (Regina) Farkas (third from left in front row) married Harold Marks (third from right in front row).

The matriarch and patriarch, my maternal great-grandpa Moritz Farkas (second from left in front row) and great-grandma Lena Kunstler Farkas (fourth from left in front row), were in their early 70s.

My mother's parents, Hermina Farkas Schwartz and Theodore Schwartz, were married about 20 years at that point. Hermina (known as Minnie) is second from right in front row, an honored sister of the bride. Theodore (Teddy) is third from right in back row. In later years, Minnie came to look very much like her mother Lena, including the trademark natural waves of hair on the forehead. Minnie kept her white-gray hair very long, in a bun at the nape of her neck. It's difficult not to wonder where, in the Depression years, the family found the money for what looks like a formal wedding. 2022 update: The original of this beautiful wedding photo has been given to grandchildren of Jeanne and Harold Marks, as I curated my genealogy collection.

Motivation Monday: A Secret Gift (Book Review)

Over the weekend, I read A Secret Gift by Ted Gup, the story of the author's quest to learn more about his maternal grandfather. For any family genealogy nut (like me!), this is fascinating reading. It's wonderful motivation, as well, because of the satisfaction of following along as Gup puts the pieces of the puzzle together and reconstructs the past (very vividly).

What drew Gup into the quest was a dusty suitcase. By the end of his years of research, Gup had uncovered most of his father's secrets--and his father's secret kindness in his adopted hometown of Canton, Ohio.

It all started when Gup's mother, 80 years old, was clearing out her attic and gave him a suitcase of letters and other family memorabilia. Inside was a large envelope with the mysterious inscription: "Pertaning Xmas Gift Distribtion." (Yes, bad spelling and all.)

The letters were dated December 18, 1933, one week before Christmas, in the dark days of the Depression. Also with the letters was a sheaf of canceled checks, each for $5 and each signed by "B. Virdot." Gup puzzled over the envelope until he pulled out a folded piece of newspaper and read the story of a mysterious benefactor, B. Virdot, offering money to locals who were down on their luck. B. Virdot, it turned out, was Gup's grandfather, Sam Stone, acting anonymously to help families in his community.

Why would Sam hand out money to Canton residents? That's what Gup wanted to find out. He also wanted to know who got the money, why, and what it meant to them. So he not only applied his genealogical tracing skills to Sam and family, but to the people who had written the letters found in the suitcase. Once Gup tracked down descendants and read them the words of their parents or relatives, he got their side of the story and showed what the $5 gift meant to each family. (Gup reminds us that $5 then was like $100 today.)

Sam's story, as told by Gup, reveals his dreams and fears, his ups and downs. Highly recommended for the genealogy as well as the writing and the heart-wrenching, heart-warming picture of his family and the families he helped.

Sentimental Sunday: Matriarchs--Daisy, Minnie, and Yetta

My mother and grandmothers are gone, sorry to say, but they live on in my heart and in my blog! Happy mother's day to these matriarchs of my family.

At left, smiling broadly, is my mother, Daisy Ruth Burk (nee Schwartz), on her wedding day in 1946 in New York City. She's wearing her fave Persian lamb coat and getting ready to go to Bermuda on her honeymoon with Dad (Harold Burk). Daisy married at 26 and had three much-loved children. She had a passion for reading, was an ace typist, enjoyed crocheting. Cooking wasn't her strong suit but she had a few signature dishes that we children relished (like junk soup and blintzes).  

At right is my maternal grandma (Daisy's mom), Hermina (Minnie) Schwartz (nee Farkas), on her wedding day in 1911 in New York City. She married Theodore (Teddy) Schwartz, who was then selling insurance (?) to immigrants, and after her son Fred and her twins Daisy and Dorothy were born, she and Teddy opened their own grocery store in the Bronx. Minnie was an expert seamstress and the back of her embroidery pieces looked just as good as the front. She was also a great cook: Her native Hungarian dishes (like strudel) were legendary in the family.
 

At left is my paternal grandma, Henrietta (Yetta) Burk (nee Mahler). Yetta, born in Latvia, married my grandpa Isaac Burk in New York City in 1906. Yetta had four children: Mildred, Harold (my Dad), Miriam, and Sidney. She crossed the border to and from Canada following Isaac for about five years as he got carpentry work in Montreal. Thanks to my cousin Lois, I know a bit more about Yetta: She was a lively woman who knew how to laugh, she had a dog named Blackie, and she was particularly close to her sister Ida Mahler Volk.

Wedding Wednesday: "Father's Consent on File" for Elizabeth Rinehart

The probate court of Crawford County, OH is surely the most genealogy-friendly place in America. Less than a week ago, I sent for the marriage record of Edward George Steiner and Elizabeth Jane Rinehart, my hubby's maternal great-grandparents. Here's their application for a marriage license, received in my SASE just a couple of days later!

This application, dated 6 August 1851, was written out one day before the actual marriage on 7 August 1851.

Although it doesn't tell me who Edward and Elizabeth's parents are, it does say that Elizabeth was under the age of 18 (confirming birth info I found in later Census records). Her father had to consent to the marriage, which he did, as you can see from the notation at bottom left.

Best of all, this document puts to rest the question of how to spell Elizabeth's maiden name, sometimes shown as Reinhart.

The "marriage license" itself is a handwritten note in which P. Flack, M.G., (Minister of the Gospel) certifies that he "solemnized the marriage of Edward G. Steiner with Elizabeth Rinehart." 

2022 update: For more about these families, see my ancestor landing page here.

52 Weeks of Genealogy: Weather--Hot Town! Summer in the...

City. Both my mother (Daisy Schwartz) and my father (Harold Burk) grew up in New York City. They never owned a car and never lived anywhere but a city apartment.

New York was and is a hot town, in more ways than one. Summer in the city meant trying to get OUT of the city heat!

Of course air conditioning was a thing of the future, so they used box fans to cope with summertime heat. And they never slept on the fire escape, not once (nor did I, growing up in a Bronx apartment).

Sometimes my grandparents (Hermina Farkas and Theodore Schwartz) took a week or two off from their Bronx grocery store and rented a room in the "country" (upstate New York, anywhere from Spring Valley to the Catskill mountains). This photo shows my mother and her twin, Dorothy Schwartz (both in front row), with family members at a casual summer resort during the 1930s.

During the 1940s, when she was working as a secretary or typist and living with her parents in the Bronx, my mother made enough money to go to the Catskills or Adirondacks for a week or two to escape the blazing city heat. One year she made enough to go to ritzy Scaroon Manor on Schroon Lake, NY, partly to relax and partly to meet eligible bachelors. (I know this sounds like a typical genealogist's interpretation, but it's actually based on letters written to her by friends, asking about her vacation and any date possibilities.)

My father, who lived in Manhattan until he came back from WWII and met and married my mother, told of spending a summer day as a teen, picnicking with his family in the Bronx. This was in the 1920s, when the Bronx was "country" with farms, dairies, etc. It was an all-day outing to get from Manhattan to the Bronx, unpack and enjoy the picnic, pack everything up, and get back home. My memory of his memory is that the family made the day-journey in a horse-drawn conveyance of some sort. I suspect they used public transportation to get to the outskirts of the Bronx and then picked up a horse-drawn streetcar from there. Summer in the city? Get out (of town)!

Wordless Wednesday: The Steiner Sisters' Tea Party

Elizabeth Rinehart Steiner and her husband, Edward G. Steiner, had an all-girl family except for their only son (Orville, my Sympathy Saturday subject).

Here, four of the six sisters pose for a "tea party" photo. My sis-in-law thinks that Carrie, Floyda, Blanche (Etta), and Minnie are in this photo. This photo was probably taken after Addy (Addline) Steiner died in 1879, so the fifth sister shown must be the oldest, Margaret (Mary) Steiner (later Margaret Post).

Tuesday's Tip: Floyda's Hidden Past Proves the Power of Please and Patience

Above is the marriage license application and cert for Floyda Mabel Steiner and Brice Larimer McClure, married 10 June 1903 in Wyandot County, Ohio (Upper Sandusky, to be exact). They're my hubby's maternal grandparents. There's been some question about the exact names of the great-grandparents, so I wanted their marriage info just to be sure. I found out where and when they were married via Ancestry's Ohio marriage database. The next step was to get a copy of the documentation.

First tip: Ask nicely. I called the probate court, explained that I was doing genealogical research, and asked (pretty please) whether the marriage documents for 1903 were available. The answer was yes. Next, I asked how to apply for a copy and what the cost would be. Answer: Write a detailed letter, include a SASE, and include a dime for each copy. However, I was told to be patient, because genealogical requests have to wait their turn while more pressing business is attended to. I thanked the clerk for her time, hung up, and immediately wrote out my request.

Second tip: Be generous. I put two bucks into a small envelope and wrote "payment for processing" on the outside, and included that with my letter and SASE. It's a bargain, IMHO, when you consider the convenience.

The bottom line: One month later, my SASE showed up in the mail, with a certified copy (well, photocopy) of the log book where Floyda and Brice's marriage info is kept. Not only did it show their parents' names (spelling is still a question mark), it revealed that Floyda had been married before, to Mr. Gottfried. That's an intriguing development I'm going to investigate.* Thank you, Wyandot County!

PS - Crawford County, Ohio, is just as friendly as Wyandot. I called to ask about Floyda's parents' marriage documents (from 1851) and they said to go ahead and send a SASE and 50 cents for a copy. Of course I sent more--what a bargain!

*2022 update: I learned more about Floyda's ill-fated first marriage from divorce documents obtained later. She filed suit against him, alleging her first husband was mentally and emotionally abusive, threatened and belittled her. Eventually she actually won her case and was awarded alimony. She took back her maiden name until remarrying two years later. 

52 Weeks: Pets--Mittens the Mongrol Terrier

This is a guest post from hubby, Wally, about Mittens, his family's dog, who lived to the ripe old age of 17.

"When I was 6, my sister was 4, and my brother was an infant, my family picked Mittens from a litter of mongrol terriers that a neighbor's dog had. He was named Mittens (Mitty for short) because he had four white paws.

"Mittens was fearless--except for thunder. During a thunderstorm, he would come tearing into the kitchen, slipping on the linoleum, to crawl under the old-fashioned electric stove and hide.

"In the summers, when I'd ride off on my bicycle, Mittens would run alongside. When the family rode in the car, Mittens would sit on the back shelf of the Plymouth, his nose out the rear window.

"One time, after we had been out in the car with him (getting ice cream?), we all got back in the car and my father started to drive away. Several blocks later, when we stopped at a red light, a car pulled up beside us. The driver called out, "You know there's a dog chasing you?!" We'd forgotten Mittens and driven off without him, but he wouldn't let us get away!

"One Sunday, my mother opened the vegetable bin under the old-fashioned refrigerator, screamed, and slammed it shut. She'd seen a rat in it. We looked for the rat but found no sign of him. That evening, Mittens came down to the basement where I was playing, and began sniffing around. He kept trying to get behind a door that was leaning up against the wall. When I pulled it away from the wall to take a look, there was the rat.

"I immediately pushed one end of the door tight against the wall to trap the rat and Mittens went crazy at the other end until my father rushed downstairs to kill it. Mittens was barking, I was shouting, even the rat was making a racket. Looking back, I think Mittens was disappointed that he hadn't been able to get at the rat. Mongrol terriers were used as "ratters" in the old days, and Mitty certainly had those genes!"

52 Weeks of Genealogy: The Automat and More

The quintessential New York City "casual dining" experience during the 1950s was at one of the Horn & Hardart Automats. The last one in Manhattan was near the Daily News building on Third Avenue and 42nd Street, and I remember going there to enjoy the Art Deco ambiance, not just the food.

As discussed in a Smithsonian article and in a book called The Automat, the Automat was cavernous and self-serve, with reasonably-priced hot and cold meals as well as prepared food ready for takeout by hungry commuters on their way home.

Eat-in customers would get a handful of nickels from the change lady and pump a few nickels into the slots to buy . . . well, my friend Rich's favorite was applesauce cake. My absolute favorite was sticky buns. My twin sis remembers great mac 'n cheese (the recipe, cut to family proportions by food maven Arthur Schwartz, can be found here).

My first restaurant experience on my own was a trip to the local Chinese restaurant at the corner of 225th Street and White Plains Road in the Bronx, at the foot of the steps leading to the elevated subway stop. I was 11 when I met my classmate Linda Kelly at the restaurant one weekend afternoon (we were in 6th grade at PS 103 together). We read the menu and ordered "one from column A and one from column B" plus wonton soup and spare ribs. When the bill came, we each had just enough money to pay our half.

I went home feeling very grown up because my friend and I had dined out all on our own. Only later did my parents think to mention that people usually leave a tip after a meal. Oooooops. I'm certain that my father stopped into the restaurant and slipped a couple of dollars to the owner or waiter, along with his thanks for treating two young girls with dignity during their first "grown up" restaurant meal.

Sympathy Saturday - Orville J. Steiner of Ohio

Hubby's granduncle Orville J. Steiner died in August, 1936. Thanks to the Ohio History Store, I have his death cert, as you can see. So why is this a Sympathy Saturday item?

There's almost no personal info on this death cert, even though the informant is one of Orville's younger sisters, Carrie Steiner Traxler. For some reason, "unknown" is the father and "unknown" is mother's maiden name. 

And the info that appears on the death cert makes no sense. Orville was apparently married, but the name of his wife is "unknown." Poor Orville died of uremic poisoning, on top of chronic myocarditis. He was 80 and living in Marion, Ohio, not far from Carrie and other sisters, who lived in Upper Sandusky, Ohio.

I'm remembering him on Sympathy Saturday. **

** Update: I've just discovered more about Orville by tracking him back through the Census. In 1930, he was an "inmate" at an almshouse. My assumption (not proven) is that he was in the almshouse when he died, and the officials listed his next of kin as the "informant" without actually consulting her about details such as Orville's parents' names. He really has my sympathy now. 

2022 update: I've been in touch with Orville's descendants, who say he had some kind of chronic illness that required long-term care. 

Talented Tuesday: James Edgar Wood, Cleveland Builder

James Edgar Wood, hubby's paternal grandfather, was a builder in Cleveland, Ohio. He would often build a home, move his family in as he finished the inside, and start on another home.

Once the next home was built, he'd sell the one he was living in and move to the newer home. My late father-in-law remembers living in a succession of homes as a child.

James built homes on Wood Road in Cleveland, named after him.

In photo at top left, you can just make out the sign that says "James E. Wood, Carpenter and Builder." That's him at the front gate, next to his wife, Mary Slatter Wood. I'm tracing the Slatters right now, as noted in yesterday's Military Monday posting.

Photo at bottom left probably shows two of James Edgar Wood's four sons standing in front of a house their father built, but since it's undated, we're not sure which two.

Military Monday: Capt. Slatter at Camp Borden, Ontario

This is Captain Slatter*, who is related (somehow) to my husband's grandmother Mary Slatter Wood. The reverse of this photo, handed down in the family, has a handwritten notation:

Camp Borden, Ont. 1917

Standing outside my tent

I only put my kilt on for special occasions in camp as it is so dusty with sand blowing all day.

Capt. Slatter's hat is the same as he's wearing in the earlier photo below, taken in Toronto, where he has on a dress kilt and is holding a baton. (A bandmaster?) 

Camp Borden was the WWI training grounds of Canada's Royal Flying Corps. Mary and her brothers John, Albert, and Harry Slatter (and sister Mrs. James F. Baker) came from England to Winnipeg, and the rest stayed in Canada. Exactly who Captain Slatter is, I can't tell (yet). Mary died in 1925 and her obit mentions her sister and three brothers.*

Thanks to Darcy, whose comment is below, the mystery of the uniform is solved: This appears to be of the 48th Highlanders of Toronto. I've written the 48th, with the photos, to ask for confirmation. A very good start! Darcy, your help is much appreciated.

*Update: This is most definitely renowned bandmaster Captain John Daniel Slatter. The 48th Highlanders identified him for me! See my later post here. For more, including the answers to my questions in this early post, go to the Slatter family landing page at top of this blog.

Sunday's Obit: John Andrew Wood, b. Cleveland, d. Michigan City, IN

John Andrew Wood was one of my hubby's paternal uncles (the others were Theodore "Ted" Wood and Wallis Walter Wood). When John died in 1980, the only surviving sibling was Edgar James Wood, my hubby's father.

After the funeral, John's widow sent this obit and memorial card to her brother-in-law Edgar and his wife Marian (my hubby's parents) along with a note: "Thank you so much for the flowers-but especially for your lovely note. The funeral was very simple and plain, just as Jack requested. I'm sorry you couldn't be three but as we agreed, it would have been a little too much." 

2022 update: I'm looking for John Andrew Wood in the 1950 US Census. 

Surname Saturday: Steiner in Wyandot County, Ohio

My husband's grandmother was Floyda Mabel Steiner, born 20 March 1878 in Nevada, Ohio. Floyda married Brice Larimer McClure and had one child, Marian Jane McClure, my mother-in-law (who I never met, sad to say).

She had no birth cert, apparently, and went to court in 1944 to have her birth registered through the testimony of her older sisters, Carrie Steiner Traxler and Etta Blanche Steiner Rhuark of Upper Sandusky, Ohio.

Thanks to the Ohio History Store, operated by the Ohio Historical Society, I ordered Floyda's brother Orville Steiner's death cert. This will help me with their parents' names, which are variously shown as Edward George Steiner (or George Edward Steiner) and Elizabeth Jane Rinehart Steiner.

I talked about the Steiners in my earlier post about the handwritten names/dates on the back of the McClure Shade Shop business card. Now it's time to pin down more specifics!

Wisdom Wednesday: 5 Things to Do Before I Become an Ancestor (Update)

Last year I wrote about the 5 genealogy things I have to do before I (gulp) become an ancestor. Now it's time to update the list with a slightly different take on the 5 "must do" genealogy tasks:

1. Document the most important things (and don't count on technology). The genealogist(s) of the next generation may not be able to figure out who's who and what's what, even with the Census photocopies and other notes in my files. Whoever comes after me may not know (or care) how to use my genealogy software and they sure won't be able to access my Mozy backups. That's why I'm creating and printing pedigree charts and family info NOW, this week. Each major family has a file folder in my cabinet and some major figures in each family have their own folders within folders. But if there are no pedigree charts, a system that makes sense to me may not make sense to the next genealogist. So I'm putting the basics into print and sending a copy to interested family members, with extra copies in my files.
2. Keep putting labels on photos. I've made a good start. Nearly all my photos are in archival plastic sleeves. But I feel strongly about telling the stories that go with the photos (see #3 below) and that's slowing me down. I've been scanning each photo and writing up a couple of paragraphs about it. After all, that's the only way that the little girl who was 18 months old in a family photo will know that we were gathered for a certain holiday, that her dress was hand-made by her mother, that great-uncle Joe had just died, and her grandmother was too ill to be present. Small details, I know, but they bring family history alive and they put the basic facts into a context. And, because others may not know how to use my Picasa photo software, where I've carefully named each scanned photo, I need to print out the photo with the story and file it where it can be found.
3. Tell the stories. What did my ancestors value? What did they aspire to? What made them cry or laugh? Why did they leave their hometowns and move across the state or around the world? What else was happening around them that affected their lives? I know some (not all) of the answers...and I'm compelled to tell the stories. Maybe my nieces have a vague understanding of WWII, but they don't know much about what their grandpa did in the war and why he was busted to private more than once. The stories show what kind of guy grandpa was! And when I tell a story to a family member, it's possible that that relative may know another part of the story or have a different take on the situation. So keep telling the stories.
4. Reopen the search for key ancestors. Three years ago, I conducted an intensive search to determine whether William Madison McClure and his father Benjamin McClure are definitely my husband's ancestors. With the help of a genealogy angel who had some key local history books, I concluded that they were "very probably" family members. It's time to reopen the search, write away for more info if necessary and available, and either put them on the pedigree charts or find out who belongs there. The McClures are high on my "to do" list for 2011. And I have other holes in the family tree to plug, of course.
5. Stay in touch. It was on my previous list and it's still on my list this time around. Last fall, my 2d cousin Lois found me through this blog and we've met and corresponded. Plus she introduced me to our 2d cousin Lil! The joy of genealogy is in meeting cousins and widening the family circle, IMHO. Blogging is wonderful cousin bait--and I mean that in the best way possible. If a cousin I haven't found does an online search for our family name and lands on my blog, I'll be thrilled, and I'll stay in touch.

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy--Sports: Rooftops, Subways, and Skating

How about this as a sport: Leaping from rooftop to rooftop without a safety net.

My Dad, Harold Burk, grew up in Manhattan at a time when cars were becoming more common. In addition to dodging traffic to play stick ball (a kind of street softball), he and his friends would dare each other to leap across the rooftops of the 6 or 8 story tenements in their neighborhood. Luckily, he was sure-footed. (When he told me this story, he seemed a bit amazed that he had survived--me too!)

Dad (shown at left, graduating from elementary school) grew up, served in WWII, came home, married Mom (Daisy Schwartz), and had a family. As long as I can remember, he was a rabid Yankees fan. Since we lived in the Bronx, a subway ride away from Yankee Stadium, he'd take my twin and me and our little sister to games several times each summer.

Sometimes the tickets would come from his travel agent connections, and we'd wind up in the box seats behind home plate, with a great view of catcher Elston Howard's back and a chance to hear Mickey Mantle or Roger Maris's bat sock the ball out of the park. We saw many of the Yankee greats of the 1950s and 1960s, way too many to name.

We savvy local fans knew what to do when the ball game got down to the middle of the 9th inning. If the score wasn't close, we would scamper out of our seats, exit the stadium, and run up the stairs to the elevated subway alongside the stadium, subway token in hand. Standing on the subway platform overlooking the ball field gave us a perfect place to watch the final out. Sometimes the subway train would idle there for a moment, waiting for the out (conductors and motormen were fans too) and then we'd jump inside the train as the doors closed, whisked away before the other fans were even out of their seats.

Today my spectator sport of choice is figure skating. It's a great sport to watch on TV when your hubby is out skiing. And it's even better to see live, at a rink where Olympic champs train (Alexei Yagudin has startingly blue eyes up close!) or at an international competition. My most memorable skate world moment was in 2003, watching Shen and Zhao win pairs gold at the World Figure Skating Championships in Washington, D.C., skating to Turandot. Below, I'm at SkateAmerica in 2006, next to Ina and Zimmerman's poster, with a stuffed toy in my jacket to throw onto the ice as a tribute to the skater I like the best.

Surname Saturday - Pietroniro of Casacalenda, Italy

Piacentino (Peter) Pietroniro, my step-children's grandfather, came from Casacalenda, Campobasso, Italy. But that's as far as we could go with his genealogy. Until now, thanks to Susan, a very kind genealogy angel, and the efficient Casacalenda officials.

After attending a talk by Toni McKeen about obtaining genealogical records from Italy, I wrote to the town officials of Casacalenda, requesting Peter's birth record and his family status record, if possible.

Today I received this extract of Peter's birth record. We already knew his birthday was February 27, 1901. What we had to determine was his parents' names. And now I know for sure that he's the son of Giovanni Antonio Pietroniro and Maria Teresa Mansi!

Susan looked up many Casacalenda records for me and found Peter's siblings plus his family four generations back in Italy. She also explained a bit about the area and why young men would leave in the 1920s (to find work). Thank you, Susan! And thank you, Casacalenda officials, for speeding this birth extract to me in only three weeks. Here's a sketch of Casacalenda from its site:

Knowing Peter's parents allowed me to prepare detailed pedigree charts (downloaded for free from Misbach!) and show my step-children much more about their genealogical background on both sides of the family.

Now there are more Pietroniro mysteries to unravel: Peter came over with his brother, Paolo (Paul) Pietroniro. Paul settled in Canada with his wife Filomena and their children. Possibly there are Pietroniro cousins out there?

Those Places Thursday: James Monroe HS, Bronx, NY

My mother, Daisy (Schwartz) Burk, and her twin sister, Dorothy, attended James Monroe High School in the Bronx, at the northern tip of the Soundview section. Wikipedia says the school opened in 1924, so my guess is the first school year ended in 1925 (according to the year on the school's seal, at left).

Today the building houses a number of small, specialized public schools, but it was originally one huge high school, drawing from many Bronx neighborhoods. It awarded academic diplomas, general diplomas, practical arts diplomas, and commercial diplomas.

Mom and Auntie graduated in January, 1936 (see bottom, where their names are listed in the graduation program she saved). They were just 16. Mom immediately looked for work. Her older brother Fred had gone to college (one of the free City University of NY colleges) but there was only enough money for one more to go to college, so Auntie went (to another free City University of NY college) and Mom didn't. Both Fred and Dorothy went on to earn a  doctorate degree. To see Mom and Auntie's yearbook photos, click:

View post on imgur.com

Mom, who could have done the course work in her teens, only finished a couple of years of college by the time she went at night as a working mom in her 50s. The math and science courses were, by that time, beyond her. She loved the literature courses most of all!

Matrilineal Monday: Mary Amanda Demarest, Where Were You Born?

 

Mary Amanda Demarest married Thomas Haskell Wood in New Orleans in 1845, when she was 14 years old. Cousin Larry, our Wood family genealogist, has records of her marriage, her children, and her burial, but Mary Amanda's exact birthplace and date -- and her parents -- remain a mystery. She seems to have been born in New York City in 1831 (according to death cert, etc).

Last month, at cousin Larry's suggestion, I checked the records of the Reformed Dutch Church of Greenwich, New York City, where many Demarests were members. Alas, no Mary Amanda. But there were these three records of children adopted by Mary Van Orden Demarest, as you can see from the above excerpts from transcribed church ledgers.

This discovery has led to a new line of thinking: Maybe Mary Amanda was adopted into the Demarest family? Her birth record wouldn't show up as Mary Amanda Demarest. Of course this is only a theory. More research is in our future!

2022 update: No progress after all these years. The parents of Mary Amanda Demarest are still not proven. 

52 Weeks - Spring: Playgrounds, Blue Grass, and Earrings

The Bronx was like suburbia in the 1950s, believe it or not. We lived in an apartment building 1 block from Bronx Park adjacent to the Bronx River in the Northeast Bronx. This park district is now known as "Shoelace Park." By the 1980s, it had become known informally as "Needle Park" and wasn't safe day or night, I understand. (I had moved away long before.)

But back in my day, it was pretty and green and a world apart from the bustle of the city that was a subway ride away.

My mom, Daisy Burk, would pull out the baby buggy every spring, tuck my baby sister Harriet in with a hand-crocheted afghan, and take my twin Isabel and me for a stroll in the park. She wore the fragrance Blue Grass, by Arden, her favorite. (My sister  especially loved that fragrance and the childhood memories it evoked.)

First stop on our Bronx Park spring stroll was "The Circle" aka "The Horse Shoe," a group of benches arranged inside a horse-shoe-shaped stone fence within the park. The moms would sit on benches under the trees while we kids played. Sometimes we'd ride our bikes round and round the circle. Sometimes we'd explore the "woods" outside the bench area.

Another favorite stop was the playground, at E. 227th Street in Bronx Park. In the summer, this playground had free arts 'n' crafts activities for kids and bug-juice (colored sugar water, it tasted like) for a snack. Here's a pair of earrings that one of we twins made for our mom. Unfortunately, these were for pierced ears and hers weren't pierced, but she kept them forever and now I have them in my jewelry box, a treasured memento of Mom and those crafty days.

My twin Izzi just reminded me of one more favorite activity in the playground above--playing King/Queen (a kind of street handball) against one of the retaining walls. Each box was a lower rank, starting from the left. I remember our personal twist on this game. King, Queen, Jack, 10, and then . . . Toilet Bowl, the lowest rank :)

Wordless Wednesday: Ex Prohibito Concubitu

 Looking for my hubby's great-grandmother's birth, I came across this page from the transcribed records of the Reformed Dutch Church at Greenwich (New York City).

Great-grandma was Mary Amanda Demarest, not Pamelia Ann Demarest (see last entry in the photo). However, Mary Amanda's parents and early years remain a mystery, even though cousin Larry (our family's super-genealogist) has been searching for more than a decade.

Baby girl Demarests born in 1831 in New York City are of interest to us, since that was Great-grandma's year and place of birth. And looking for Mary Amanda Demarest led me to stumble across Pamelia Ann Demarest, born in 1831, in the church records.

Pamelia Ann was born ex prohibito concubitu which, a professional genealogist explained, meant her parents weren't allowed to marry. Having never seen or heard this phrase before, I was wordless for a moment (rare for me).

Was the parents' relationship too close (first cousins, for example, or even closer)? Was the father or mother already married? Was the mother (or father) too young to marry? Note that no father was listed, and the baby was adopted. It's also a legal issue: This child can't inherit.

But there's more to the Demarest mystery. I'll save that for another day!