Derafada You Say?

     While researching, I tend to get bogged down in details.  I'm aware of this, and it does slow me down, but I enjoy it and when I find what I'm seeking it reassures me I'm on the right track.  Today I was looking at Daniel Welch, (or Walsh), who coincidentally married two cousins of mine who don't appear to be related to each other.   Daniel first married my cousin Catherine Lawler, from Rathdowney in Queen's County, around 1846 in Ireland.  About ten years later they and their two young daughters immigrated, settling in Palmyra, New York where Catherine died in August of 1865 at about the age of fifty.    

     Long ago I visited the parish office of Saint Anne's in Palmyra, and copied all the birth, marriage, and death register entries that seemed relevant to my family. It was in those records I had found Daniel married Ellen Hogan, another cousin of mine, in 1866. Like her husband, Ellen was born in Tipperary, to Darby and Dora Hogan.  There is no indication Ellen and Daniel were acquainted in Ireland.  Indeed, it was unlikely, Ellen was twenty-one years younger than Daniel.

     Today I noticed their marriage record contained the names of Daniel's parents, John Walsh and Mary Quinn.  Having those names enabled me to locate Daniel's baptism along with those of four of his siblings, all in the Parish of Moyne and Templetuohy in Tipperary.  The address his parents gave in each case was Derafada.  That's when my penchant for detail and second-guessing myself kicked in, did I have this right?  How did Daniel and Catherine, living in different counties, get together?  I needed to know.

     I ran a search at Google Maps for Derafada with no results.  A general Google search produced nothing with the exception of a few sites containing histories of unrelated families.  After some thought, I tried the site called SWilson which has tons of Irish genealogy info, the Seanruad townland site, now called "The Core", Tithe Applotments, and Griffith's Valuations.  None of them had anything on Derafada. Lists of Tipperary townlands were of no help, nor was Google Books.  Running out of ideas, I was about to give up when I tried an image search.  No Derafada came up, but something almost as good did.

       This is exactly what I was hoping to find, right above the Walsh's parish, Moyne and Templetuohy, was the Lawler's parish of  Rathdowney.  Being familiar with Rathdowney records, I knew there was a huge gap during the decades surrounding the famine.  Fortunately, the Lawler's lived right on the border of Queen's County and Tipperary.  I'd had some luck finding Rathdowney relatives in Templemore records, (just above Moyne and Templetuohy), and I'd be willing to bet the Walsh family in Tipperary lived near the border as well.

     The above map indicates they were practically neighbors so the mystery of how they met was solved.  It also explains why I was unable to find a marriage record for Daniel and Catherine, they were likely married in the bride's home parish, the one with the missing records. I'm now confident in saying I have Daniel's parents and birthplace correct as well as his marriage to Catherine Lawler.

 

      

Of Naming Patterns and Expectations

 

     At various times I've applauded and cursed the Irish Naming Pattern.  A name like John Ryan in Tipperary renders it practically useless if not a hindrance due to the lack of originality in names, while more uncommon given names can make it a gift.  The thing is, there are times when the pattern falters.  A sickly infant not expected to survive may not be given the typical name, one born soon after the loss of a family member may be given the deceased's name out of respect, a child born on the feast day of a locally favored saint might bear that person's name; there are a number of reasons the pattern may not have been followed to the letter, but most often it was.

     For instance, my great-great-grandmother Anna Ryan, born in Goldengarden, Tipperary in 1831, was the daughter of Cornelius Ryan and Alice O'Dwyer.  Anna immigrated to America as a young woman, followed later by her parents.  In New York she married James White, from Queens County, the son of James White and Margaret Keyes.  Their first child, a son, was born a year after their marriage and predictably was named James, after his paternal grandfather.

     Two years later Alice, named for her maternal grandmother arrived, followed by the births of Margaret named for her paternal grandmother, Mary named for her maternal aunt, and Julia named for her paternal aunt.  Then at last another boy was born and finally, Anna's father, now in New York, would get his namesake. Only he didn't.  That child was not christened Cornelius, but Thomas.  What the what?

     Had I somehow missed a child?  Julia was born in November of 1864 and Thomas on the first of December in 1866.  It's possible a child was born in 1865 and didn't live long I suppose.  The New York census of 1865 for Wayne County is not online, nor is the mortality schedule for that year, and the newspapers were silent on the matter. This puzzled me for quite a while.  It wasn't until 1876 that a son to be named Cornelius White entered the world, after the birth of two brothers before him.  He was born when Anna was forty-five years old, and probably thinking her child-bearing days were behind her.  

    A good deal of time was spent looking for any trace of an earlier Cornelius White, there had to have been one, didn't there?  But none was found.  Then I had the opportunity to visit the Family History Library in Rochester and was able to view the registers of Saint Anne's Catholic Church in Palmyra, New York where the family were parishioners.  There among the baptisms was this--

     Please excuse the orange highlighter, I was pretty excited about this find at the time.  The first baptism was for Cornelius White on December 9, 1866, son of Jacobo White and Anna Ryan.  The second was that of his twin brother Thomas.  Thomas' sponsors were Cornelius Ryan Jr., (Anna's brother), and his wife Anna Hennessey.  So, there had been a baby named Cornelius after all, the pattern had not been broken!  In fact, this family was almost a textbook case.  Their only deviation was in not naming their third daughter Anna after her mother, but that wasn't really uncommon.

     Of course, now I wanted to know what had happened to Cornelius so I began collecting clues.  He would have been three in 1870, but only his twin brother Thomas appeared in the census that year.  Ditto the 1875 NY census.  I scoured the 1870 mortality schedule, but he wasn't listed there.  The burial register from Saint Anne's doesn't commence until 1868, but he's not there either.  We know Cornelius was alive to be baptized in early December of 1866, the last mention I've ever found of him.  All of which leads me to believe Cornelius likely passed in 1867.  The causes of death for young children in the 1870 mortality schedule for the family's location were scarlet fever, lung congestion, and diphtheria, in that order.  Of course, I can't say what illnesses might have been circulating in 1867.

     There is very little I can say.  But I have questions. Were you called Connor like the grandfather whose name you bore?  Were you a happy baby, or were you fretful and not thriving?  What caused you to leave so soon?  With no obituary I'll most likely never know what befell wee Cornelius, but at least I know he was here and lived for a short time in an age when it was ridiculously easy for small ones to slip away...

No, Natives Did Not Steal Your Father

 

     This coming June will find me on the Massachusetts Island of Nantucket, which my research on Martha's Vineyard two summers ago indictes may be the place my 5th great-grandfather Thomas Garner was born.  I'd love to confirm that hypothosis, so I have the entire winter to pore over my Garner notes and make a research plan for the Nantucket library.  I want it ready to go since my library time will be limited, (there is a beach after all).  I've already started digging in by constructing a timeline.  

     Thomas' son, Thomas Jr., my 4th g.g., was born at Tisbury on Martha's Vineyard in 1773.  Thomas Jr.'s daughter Clarissa was born at Hartland, Vermont in 1795, indicating the family left Tisbury at some point.  Probably around the time of Thomas Sr.'s death in the Revolutionary War in 1777.  By the early 1820's Clarissa and her parents were living in New York, in the Town of Locke, the eastern part of which, (the Garner's part), became the Town of Summerhill in April of 1831.  

     Looking through the trees on Ancestry was perplexing. They all have Clarissa married to Samuel Lamphier and maintain she gave birth to Spaulding Lamphier in 1802.  Only that's not possible.  Aside from the fact she was only seven or eight years of age in 1802, she was with her parents until at least 1820.  It's in the census!  I'm confounded how anyone can think an eight year old having a baby makes sense, never mind that Ancestry flashes a red warning if you  attempt to type something that ludicrous into your tree.  Clarissa did marry Samuel Lamphere, that much is correct, but not until about 1823, she could not have been his first wife nor Spaulding's mother.

     Another odd one was the death date of her stepson Spaulding and the circumstances surrounding it.  Every Ancestry tree had clearly copied the other one, for none of them had real sources and they all claimed he died in 1859.  "Believed by the family to have been taken by 'Indians' while on his way to vist a neighbor."  His corpse was never found.  In the year 1859!  I am quite certain there were no native uprisings taking place in New York State in 1859.  To be fair there was a reservation for the Cayuga Tribe about thirteen miles from Locke although they were pacified by then and caused no trouble; it's also true Spaulding appears to vanish about that time, three years after his wife Prudence Marble's death, which left him with seven children ranging in age from twenty to seven.  It appears Spaulding did not handle her death well, which eerily mirrors his half-brother Samuel Jr.'s, (who was Clarissa's son), decline after his wife's death.  Within three years Samuel was in the county poor house whose blunt description of him was, "this old man has lost his mind".

     See, this is how I get sidetracked.  I'm not even related to Spaulding since I do not credit the assertion that Clarissa Garner was his mother, but now I was curious what the deal was with him.  He wasn't in the 1860, 1865, or 1870 censuses and his children were scattered about the neighborhood.  He was gone alright, but I still wasn't buying the captured by Indians theory.  It seemed to me there was good reason no body surfaced, though that didn't stop someone from putting him on the Find A Grave site with a death year of 1859.

     As I continued examining Spaulding, I came to the 1875 New York State census and who should I see there... a resurrected Spaulding Lamphier!  Living in Locke with his widowed daughter Emily Whipple and her children. So how does the story of his abduction and murder still live on?  Granted it's a good tale, it made me take notice, but it's clearly untrue.  I posted a copy of the census to the Find A Grave page for Spaulding and the owner did change his death date so that's progress I guess. 

     The question remains, where was Spaulding all those years?  Gone west perhaps?  It was after all, the era of the Pike's Peak Goldrush.  The territories may have looked like the perfect opportunity to shed his responsibilites and make his fortune. The fact Spaulding can't be located in three censuses makes it seem he may not have wanted to be found.  In the end, he returned to Locke where his daughter Emily found a place for him in her home.  I don't know if the other children were as welcoming when their father reappeared, in fact one or two had died during his absence, though I can't locate any obituaries that may have shed some light on these questions.  But now I need to get back to someone I really am related to-- like Thomas Garner Sr., possible birthplace Nantucket.

I Finally Found Ellen or, Transcibers Don't Get the Last Word

 

     This week I've been taking another look at the family of Darby Hogan.  From the information I've assembled, it seems Darby had a connection to my White/Ryan family, though as of yet I've been unable to find the link.  Over the years I was, however, able to prove Darby Hogan had two marriages, both of which took place in Tipperary's North Riding.  His first wife was Dora whose maiden name appears to have been Hogan as well; the second was Maria Callanan or Cooney depending on which record one is looking at.  Three children were born of the first marriage, Darby Jr., Ellen, and Hann, but only Ellen left a trail I've been able to follow.  She immigrated to Palmyra, New York in the 1860's, the same place her father Darby was first seen in an American census- the 1855 New York State Census, living with his second wife Maria and their fourth child Michael.  Oddly enough, Darby's three children with Dora, and his first three with Maria did not immigrate with him but remained in Ireland.  His three eldest children with Maria as well as Dora's daughter Ellen, as mentioned above, came over at later dates.

     I've pretty much exhausted all the sources I've located for Darby and his wives Dora and Maria, so it was time to take a closer look at Ellen whose baptism I had yet to find.  Hopefully it would contain something new, especially about Dora Hogan who must have passed before Darby married Maria around 1842 give or take.  Dora's last child, Hann, was baptized in 1840 making me wonder if perhaps she died giving birth to another child in 1842?  Darby and Maria's first child, Anna, was born in July of 1844 so I think 1842 is a fair guess at his second marriage date. 

     I first tried finding Ellen at Find My Past in their Irish Roman Catholic Baptisms.  I found Darby Jr. and Hann, but no Ellen.  There was nothing for it, but to do a line-by-line search.  This was going to take a while since I had no clear birth year for Ellen.  The transcription of the 1870 census at Ancestry gave her birth year as 1820 but that was a transcription error.  The 1860 census said born in 1840, and Find A Grave had 1837.

     I went to the NLI site and began searching at 1830.  Since I didn't have a firm date for Darby's birth either it was possible he had been born a few years earlier than I believed.  Thankfully, the parish registers were in fairly good shape, and I was making progress until I realized I was looking in the parish Darby had moved to after his second marriage, Birr and Loughkeen, rather than Lorrha and Dorrha parish where Ellen's two sibling were baptized, so back to square one.  After about thirty minutes I came to the entry below:

     That was her alright, why didn't that come up in my search at FMP?  I checked there again using just the parish of Lorrha and Dorrha, the year, and the name Ellen.  There it was, Ellen born to "Daily" and "Dolly" "Hoyer".  Good grief.  Ellen was baptized 19 July in 1836, her sponsors were Thomas and Mary Hogan.  While all the other mother's last names on the page differ from their husband's, in this case it gives Dora's maiden name as Hogan just like her other two children's baptisms did.  Unlike the baptisms of Darby Jr. and Hann, however, Ellen's did not give an address.  Since Ellen was the middle child and her siblings were both born at Killeen in County Tipperary, I would think she likely was as well.

     Other than the two sponsor's names, who could be relatives of either parent, and Ellen's real birth year, nothing new was found in the baptism record.  I still had nothing about Dora's passing or Darby's second marriage.  Unless. What if the anonymous transcribers had messed that record up as they had Ellen's age in 1870 and her parent's names in her baptism?  Hold on a sec while I check... Wow!  I just found it, "Dorny Hogan" and "Mary Collonan" were married on 1 November in 1842 at the parish of Lorrha and Dorrha!  That meant Maria likely lived near Darby before their marriage.

     This has been a great reminder to not take indexes at face value and try to look at the original document.  Transcribers make mistakes as we all do, though in the case of the Irish records here, it would appear the real fault lies with the parish priest, he did mangle those names pretty badly and his handwriting would not win any awards.  These are official church records, a little care would be in order! I'm looking at you Father...

Of Soppers and Whiteboys

 

     This week I learned something new thanks to Uncle George Gunn, born in 1854 at Ballygologue in County Kerry; another brother of my great-great-grandmother Mary Gunn.  I’ve written several blogs about George, mainly because there’s just so much to say about this man.  He survived only two years after his arrival in New York, which is a real shame, I’m positive he’d have given me a lot more to write about had he lived longer.  George would have set Palmyra New York on its ear.  Unfortunately, to quote the old song, “With a love of the liquor poor Tim George was born”.  After imbibing one evening, he somehow missed his footing while strolling along the Erie Canal, plunging to his watery death--

 Palmyra August 1892--The body of George Gunn, a laborer about 30 years old, was found floating in the canal just west of this village on Sunday morning last, and was taken in charge by Drake & Johnson undertakers.  Gunn was in Palmyra late Saturday evening and the supposition is that he had been drinking and while on his way to Macedon by tow-path he fell into the canal and met his death by drowning.

     George’s rap-sheet in Ireland was impressive with numerous arrests for drunkenness, assaulting a caretaker, bad language, a few for assaulting police officers as they attempted to apprehend him, and a charge of Whiteboyism.  From a stint he did in Tralee Prison in 1888 for drunk and disorderly, we learn George was 5’9 ½”, with brown hair and grey eyes.  The number of times he was arrested previously was eight, but I’m betting there were plenty more cases he got away with.  George was definitely a character, one of those “wild Kerry peasants” I’ve heard tell of.  The arrest that really caught my attention, however, was the one in 1882 accusing him of being a whiteboy.   https://www.askaboutireland.ie/narrative-notes/whiteboys/ I do love a good rebel.

     The newspaper report of the incident read--

Early on Sunday morning a patrol of police discovered a body of men engaged at drill. They captured ten of the party who were brought into Tralee.  The men, who are of the lowest order in Listowel, were brought before the magistrates on Monday.  When arrested they had their faces blackened and wore false whiskers.  The prisoners are George Gunn, Richard Barry, James Kissane, Thomas Hayes, John Browne, Jeremiah O’Connor Denice Bunce…

     A few days later another article appeared in the local newspaper detailing their court appearance--

     The men's defense intrigued me. Their solicitor argued the accused had gone to a neighborhood wedding as, “soppers” which explained their appearance. That certainly required further explanation.  A google search brought up next to nothing, but then I remembered the Schools Collection, which as far as I’m concerned is a national treasure.  In the 1930’s schoolchildren from all over Ireland collected stories from grandparents and older neighbors, which they then recorded in composition form.  It’s amazing what can be found there.  There is no better site to get a feel for life in old Ireland.  I typed “soppers” into their search box and was not disappointed.  Up popped two full pages of results, many of them from County Kerry.  Most descriptions of soppers noted, “To entertain the party, they came with their faces colored or covered so they would not be known. They played and danced and sang”.  In other words, they were expected to be in disguise just as George and the others maintained.

     Resident Magistrate Captain Massey, (in the above article), who comes across as a real prig clearly wasn’t having any of that.  His smug speech stating it was fortunate the prisoners had no firearms about them, has a disingenuous ring to it.  In spite of no real evidence, he still required a £10 surety, (several hundred dollars in today’s money), or two months in prison.  It appears he would have loved to throw the book at Uncle George and his pals and was peeved he hadn't the grounds to do so.  I'm not crazy about his, "men who are of the lowest order", crack as reported in the newspaper either.

     Uncle George had no way of knowing that within thirty-nine years the likes of Captain Massey and his ilk would be gone from Ireland.  Gone from the Free State anyway, and good riddance.  It’s too bad George didn’t live long enough to see that marvelous day.  

 

Richard Gunn's Abject End

 

Killarney District Lunatic Asylum

     Since I've been having such good luck wrapping up loose ends in my Gunn family line, I thought I may as well give my great-great-grandmother's brother Richard Gunn another shot.  I only learned of Richard's existence when I found his 1857 baptism record.  It mangled his name, but the address of Ballygologue in County Kerry was correct, and his parent's names were right for the most part.

     I couldn't find Richard in the 1901 or 1911 censuses, nor in civil registration records.  His was not a common name, so I went for broke and did an all Ireland search of registrations, all events, all locations, and all years.  Amazingly, there were only five registrations under the name of Richard Gunn!  I don't know how that could be possible, but I tried the search several times and there are only five.*  Factoring in his age, there was only one death registration, but it occurred in Killarney, County Kerry in 1885.  I thought it unlikely to be him, he must have died in infancy in Ballygologue before registration was mandated, but I clicked on it anyway and was in for an unpleasant surprise.

Richard Gunn Ballygologue, death at Killarney District Lunatic Asylum, pulmonary phthsis one year

     Richard died of tuberculosis in an insane asylum? I was not expecting that one. This suggested all sorts of questions and called for more research.  It appeared possible he had been a patient for at least a year since the onset of his illness was known to the institution, but that's conjecture.  I wondered of course, how he ended up in that place and what his diagnosis was, but I understand those records, archived in the Kerry Library in Tralee, are sealed.

      I also wondered how hard it was to be admitted to an asylum in Ireland in the late 1800's, the answer seemed to be--not very. The list of causes below is from the Killarney asylum.

     During the period of Richard's stay, there were two forms in use for admissions, one for dangerous and criminal lunatics which required the signatures of two magistrates sitting together, and another called Form E. That form, shown below, required a declaration by friends or relatives, a certificate from a magistrate and clergyman or poor law guardian, along with a medical certificate.

     Another question was, what was the asylum like? Being locked away with mentally ill persons, some of them violent, so far from home would be unpleasant under any circumstances.  Ballydribbeen, where the asylum was located, was almost 40 miles from Richard's home.  In 1885 that would have meant visits from his friends and family were probably infrequent at best.  It surprised me there wasn't a closer option for treatment.  After doing a little reading about the Killarney asylum however, I learned that as a district asylum, it was responsible for the mental healthcare of the entire county.  Like most of the population, Richard had no resources for private care so the district asylum was his only option. But what of Richard's day-to-day living conditions?  One report referred to a chronic problem with wet walls, while another spoke of overcrowding, gloomy rooms, and inadequate ventilation. With those surroundings, it's hardly surprising respiratory illnesses and phthisis (TB), were frequent causes of death, or that they spread rapidly.  What a dreadful place for a suffering, twenty-five year old to spend his last days.

*  One of the five Listowel registrations was of the birth of a formerly unknown Richard Gunn in 1865; his father Francis Gunn could well be a brother of my Richard's father John Gunn, who named a son Francis.   

More About That Lost Son of Johanna Gunn

            My last blog ended with the amazing discovery of Johanna Gunn's firstborn, living in the same townland as his mother, after many years of my believing he likely hadn't survived childhood.  Naturally, after all that searching, I wanted to know more about this man's life.

     Edward Gunn was born December first in 1867 and baptized the fourth day of December in the parish of Listowel, County Kerry.  The church register of baptisms shows the parish priest wrote, mother Johanna Gunn of Ballygologue, godparents George and Mary Gunn.  No father's name was recorded there or on the registration of his birth as seen above.  And there it ended, Edward Gunn couldn't be found in the 1901 or 1911 censuses, nor did he appear in any other civil registrations after his birth.  I had nearly given him up, but while researching that blog about his mother Johanna, it suddenly became clear he had simply changed his surname to that of his father, Edward Burke Sr., and had never left Ballygologue.  Like his half brothers William and John Connor, Edward was a shoemaker; in 1898 he married Mary Denihan, setting up housekeeping in Ballygologue.  Their daughter Ellie was born there in 1899, followed by Daniel Joseph Burke in1902, then four more sons, and daughter Mary Ellen in 1910.

Edward, Mary and Ellie Burke 1901 with Mary's father, all spoke English and Irish

     In studying my Kerry ancestors, I was struck by how bleak and precarious their lives seemed.  Johanna's mother, Margaret Browne Gunn, gave birth to seven children with only three surviving her, Johanna and two others who immigrated.  Johanna had seven children but again, only three survived her, two of them in the states.  Edward Gunn Burke was also father to seven children, three of whom survived him, two in Ireland and one in the states.  Do you see a pattern here?  I know it was not unusual to lose a child, but my ancestors from southeast Ireland seemed to have much better luck with children.  The losses in this family seem staggering by today's standards.  I'm convinced the social and economic conditions in Kerry, one of the poorest counties in Ireland at the time, were a big factor in the death rates and why so many of my realtives left.  In the period after the famine, County Kerry had the highest immigration rate, followed by counties Cork and Clare.

    The only child of Edward's to try his luck in America was his oldest son Daniel.  While putting the pieces of Edward's life together I found an obituary for a Daniel Burke of Palmyra, New York, fifteen minutes from my current home.  That could have been any old Daniel Burke, it's hardly an uncommon name, and yet, this one was from Ireland, was of the right age, and had two brothers with the correct names still living there.  And he was in Palmyra.  Looking at the 1930 census of Palmyra, I found a Dannie Burke from Ireland living with Mary Mahoney from Ireland, (maiden name O'Connor I knew from previous research), and her husband. That had to be him! 

     The census had an immigration date which led me to the passenger list of Daniel's ship arriving 22 September1924 in New York.  Passenger lists from that time period contain a trove of information.  From that single document I learned Daniel was an agricultural laborer, stood 5 feet 3 inches tall, had black hair and gray eyes, and $30 in his pocket.  It showed his father's half-brother William O'Connor, already in America, had put up the money for his nephew's passage.  It further showed Daniel was on his way to the home of his great-aunt, Mary Gunn Power, my great-great-grandmother, in upstate New York, and he had left a father, Mr. Ned Burke, in Ballygologue.  

     It gives me such a rush to make the connection between Ireland and the place where I still live.  A feeling of closeness.  Daniel's destination, the Power home, was a mile from where I would grow up decades later, Palmyra was the next village over.  Daniel eventually landed a good job, married in 1935, and raised two children, Daniel Jr. and Rosemary.  He passed away in Rochester, New York in 1971.  

     Back in Ireland, Edward Gunn Burke lived out his days in Ballygologue, his wife passing in 1928, his mother Johanna in 1930, and himself in 1939 at age 71.  His death registration says he died from toxemia of burns in Listowel Hospital, but even after extensive newspaper searches, the scant information in the registration was all I could find.  By then he had lost his firstborn daughter Ellie to bronchitis in 1902 at the age of two, two young sons to whooping cough at ages two and four in 1907, his only remaining daughter, Mary Ellen at 18 from typhoid fever, along with his wife. His oldest son Daniel was far away, but Edward at least had his sons Mike and Edward Jr. with him until the end.