Musings On A Summer Night

     

     You may have noticed a discernible uptick in my number of blog posts lately.  Yes, I'm on vacation!!  More of a stay-cation since I'm just hanging around home, but I'm enjoying every minute of it.  I've spent hours researching on the net, writing and just relaxing on my deck, which is where I was until a few minutes ago.  We're experiencing a heat wave here in New York, temps were in the mid-ninety's and the humidity made it seem like a sauna--cliche I know, but in this case it's no exaggeration.  

     Sitting here alone on a warm summer's eve listening to the "peepers" is the perfect time for reflecting on my ancestors.  I've written before about how I would love to be able to get inside their heads. To really understand them, their thoughts and concerns, their likes and dislikes--in short, their world.  Time and again I find myself wondering what they would have thought of some event or object.

     It's a lovely starry night and the temps are down to around 80 now, the last of the fireflies are blinking out, their mating ritual completed for another year.  They won't be back until next spring and I will miss them, but even the fireflies make me wonder--did my ancestors enjoy them as much as I do?  Suddenly that seems like a pressing question, so to the computer I go.  It turns out there are no fireflies in Ireland, which made me sort of sad, but they did have something called a glow worm.  They are insects, not worms, and they don't fly, but they do glow like a firefly.  Being such a rural place in the 19th century, Ireland must have been full of them I would think?

     Earlier I saw a shooting star streaking it's way across the sky, surely the ancestors must have enjoyed spotting those.  Again, Ireland was rural--no lights to distract from the beautiful glimmer of the overhead stars.  I like to think these simple little gifts of nature brought them some joy in their straightened circumstances.  I used to believe I was fairly atypical to feel such a connection and curiosity with and for these long ago kin, but after meeting so many similarly minded people, both on the net and in person I know I'm not alone.  Say, I wonder if there are peepers in Ireland????

The Leaving of Liverpool Part 2

     
     In a previous blog, The Leaving Of Liverpool, I wrote about finding the immigrant ship of my 3rd great grandmother Mary Travers Hore.  She sailed on the packet ship America which entered New York harbor on August 13th of 1852.  I knew from the ship's manifest that the America left from Liverpool, but not the date of it's departure.  I began the search to find that date, just because I'm curious about things like that, and I've finally found an answer.

     The ad above, from the Liverpool Mercury of 18 June 1852, stated that "the splendid American Packet ship" America would sail punctually on the 24th instant, (instant means that same month), meaning it only took 20 days for Grandmother to reach New York; pretty good time for those days before steam.  The packet ships were known for keeping to their schedules which made travel easier than the days when immigrants might have spent days or weeks in Liverpool waiting for their ship to finally begin it's trip down the Mersey.

     I'm still curious about her time directly before the ship sailed.  I haven't been able to find any other familiar names on the manifest, no one who might have been traveling with her, though it's possible of course a neighbor or friend may have.  She must have been widowed by that time since no husband is listed with her.  Mary, age 50, would have had to leave her small townland of Ricketstown in County Carlow and travel about 45 miles to Dublin to catch the ferry to Liverpool-- then navigate that city to her ship's berth on the Waterloo Dock.  Did she do this all on her own?  I like to think perhaps her son Patrick or daughter Winifred, the only two of her children still in Ireland, accompanied her as far as Dublin and possibly to Liverpool; the ferry wasn't terribly expensive.  It's little details like that that intrigue me--the ones that are lost within a generation or two and are so hard to recover.  What I wouldn't give for a detailed diary...

    

Wednesday's Website/California Digital Newspapers

   

      I love old newspapers, what genealogist doesn't?  Today's website California Digital Newspaper Collection as the title implies, is a collection of newspapers covering most of the state of California.  On the home page, across the top, you will find a search tab which allows you to search by individual newspapers, a titles tab listing all the newspapers available on the site along with their dates and a county map tab which takes you to a clickable map of counties.  Just click on the county of interest to generate a list of newspapers available for that place.  A useful source of information even if the dates you need aren't yet digitized.

     I've found many references to my O'Hore family who settled in San Francisco using this site, like the death notice below of Edward O'Hore Jr. son of my 3rd great uncle.  Edward Sr. was born in Rathvilly Parish, County Carlow but moved his family to California in the early 1860's, becoming a miner before ending his days in a tenement in SF.

     As you can see, the search terms are highlighted on the newspaper page and it's an easy site to navigate.  Hope you find something useful.

Mayflower Descendant Twice, Me?

     

     In a previous blog, here I wrote about my 11th great-grandfather John Billington, a controversial passenger who sailed on the Mayflower.  Well amazingly enough, or maybe not all that amazing, I have found that another progenitor was on that storied ship;  Francis Eaton who is also on my mother's side of the tree.  It doesn't surprise me at all that both these Mayflower passengers were on Mom's side; my father's family were relative latecomers, not reaching America's shores until during and after the potato famine for the most part.

     The new ancestor is Francis Eaton, born in England in 1596.  Yes, 1596. That. Is. Mind boggling.  Men were mincing about in neck ruffs, codpieces and hosiery at that time.  It's a time so far removed from my experience that in truth, I can't begin to summon any real feelings about this individual.  Yes, he's my 11th or 12th great-grandfather, but I really can't make any emotional connection.  Anyway--Francis and his third wife begat Benjamin after arriving in modern day Massachusetts.  Benjamin begat Benjamin Jr., who begat another Francis around 1700.  Francis and his second wife Lydia Fuller had a son  in 1734 whom they named Silvanus.  We're now approaching a time I can begin to relate to-- slightly.

     This brings us to Annis Eaton born in Massachusetts just before the American Revolution.  Annis married Joseph Foster Jr. and they were the first direct ancestors of this line to move to New York State and into Wayne County where my mother's family lived for many decades after.  Annis' son Asahel Foster was one of the pioneers of Wolcott, NY; he married Hannah Southwick and they had at least one child, Lucinda, born in 1832.  Hannah died in 1834 and Asahel then married Martha Gregory who bore him six more children--five girls and finally a boy, Asahel Jr.  I wonder how many more children there would have been had he not gotten that son in 1852?

     This is where the Galloway's come in, Asahel's third daughter, Clarissa, married George Galloway.  Their granddaughter Grace was my mother's mother who died in a tragic fire leaving seven children under the age of twelve, the youngest being eight months. 

     I often wonder how other researchers feel about their far distant ancestors?  I'm very curious about them and find myself reading histories of their time and place and studying costume sites online to see how they may have dressed, but I admit it, I feel somewhat emotionally detached. Francis Eaton was born 420 years ago.  When you say it like that, it doesn't seem all that long a time and yet everything has changed-- attitudes, modern conveniences even gender rolls, no woman today would be content with being her husband's chattel.  I will likely find more Mayflower ancestors on Mom's side, but to tell you the truth, I'm more impressed with my 8th great-grandmother Winifred the witch than I am with my Pilgrims.

Workhouse Howl*

     

     The workhouse at Baltinglass sat a mile from town on seven acres of land.  All that survives today are the blueprint-like drawings above; even the records no longer exist, lost to fire in 1920.  Poorhouses were established in Ireland as early as 1703 when the Irish Parliament authorized a "House of Industry" in Dublin to provide sustenance for the poor and infirm along with orphaned children.  Over the years, more facilities were built around the island at Waterford, Limerick, Belfast, Cork and a few other localities.  

     With the Act of Union in 1800, Ireland became part of England.  The British answer to the question of  Irish pauperism was to export their workhouse system to Ireland.  While that system may have worked well  in England, Ireland's real problem was the lack of work or other means of supporting oneself.  The idea of being confined to a workhouse was repugnant to the population of Ireland and it was a dreadful and dreaded last resort.  To discourage anyone taking advantage of the system, conditions were made as unpleasant as possible.  Whole families were required to enter the workhouse together, helping landlords clear their property of them, but they couldn't remain together.  Men and women were sent to different quarters and even more cruelly, children over the age of two were taken from their mothers.  Their diet was poor, as was their treatment by the staff.  Conditions worsened during the famine years with rising numbers of inmates and the fevers that afflicted the malnourished population spreading quickly in the confined quarters of  a workhouse.

     I thought my ancestors had all escaped that horror until yesterday.  I feel like I've uncovered most of the information about my direct ancestors currently available on the internet, so I've begun expanding my search to their siblings.  While looking through the parish records the NLI has made available online I came across the baptism of Sarah Holmes in October of 1846, the second year of the famine. Sarah was the daughter of George Holmes and Mary Hore; Mary being a distant cousin of mine and the daughter of my 3rd great-grandfather Michael Hore's brother John.  As I looked at the entry in the Baltinglass Parish register giving the family address, I caught my breath--it read "Workhouse".

     The entry is not in great shape, but I can make out 1846 Spt 6- Holmes Sarah of Geo. & Mary Hora or Horan, Workhouse.  Sponsors ? Hayden and Bridget Breene, I think.  I hate to think of my ancestors, or anyone's ancestors, being relegated to such a ghastly place, or of a tiny baby being born there amidst the crowding and disease.  There were four older Holmes children in 1846 ranging from 17 year old James to 7 year old Thomas, all would have been separated from their parents.  How did this family end up there, how did their state become so destitute that the only alternative was the nightmarish workhouse?  Did George Holmes die, or the famine and resulting evictions cause them to lose everything?  Did baby Sarah survive and what became of them afterwards?  It seems there is still plenty to uncover about my family if I go far enough afield.

* The workhouse howl was a cry of grief and utter despair that not infrequently was heard echoing through the halls of those institutions

Disclaimer

Yesterday I was horrified to see an ad soliciting funds for a political candidate on my blog.  I did not post the ad and in no way do I endorse it.  I regret it appeared here, and hopefully the problem has been fixed.
Ellie

Myles Keogh And Grandather

     

Myles Walter Keogh

     I love history, I think alot of genealogists do.  I will read just about anything that deals with the story of humankind; most especially if that story concerns Irish humankind.  Awhile ago my wonderful cousin on the opposite coast, the one who sends me books, sent me one about Custer's last stand on the banks of the Little Bighorn in eastern Montana Territory.  It's such an interesting topic, made more so to me by the presence at the battle of Myles W. Keogh.  What does Myles have to do with my family history?  More than I would have thought.  Myles was born in 1840  at Orchard, Leighlinbridge in County Carlow about 20 miles from where my great-great-grandfather James O'Hora was born at Ricketstown, it's probably not in Ireland however that their paths may have crossed.  

     Myles would have been thirteen years younger than my grandfather, and from a much more prominent family.  Myles attended college while Grandfather was recorded in early US censuses as illiterate and signed his naturalization papers with an X, though he did at some point learn to read and write.  While Myles became a soldier of fortune, serving with the Irish Battalion of St. Patrick and with the Papal forces of Pope Pius IX, James came to America, settling in Aurelius, New York near Auburn.  As James was leading a quiet agricultural life and raising a family, Myles was fighting the forces of Garabaldi in Italy where he was awarded several Papal medals.

Myles with the Martin daughters

     Myles so loved military life that he also traveled to America,  fighting for the Union during the Civil War in a cavalry unit.  While in the army, he made the acquaintance of  General Emory Upton and the two became close friends.  In 1867 Myles traveled to Owasco, New York to serve as best man when the General married Emily Martin of the wealthy Martin family  at their estate, Willowbrook.  It's here, many miles from County Carlow, where paths might possibly have crossed.  James O'Hora was then leasing a farm from the Martin family there in Owasco very near the estate.  While I'm sure James was not invited to the wedding, or any other events at Willowbrook for that matter, Myles was a popular guest of the Martin family and visited many times over the years.  There is even speculation that the incredibly handsome Myles and one of the Martin daughters were in love, a romance made impossible by his Catholicism.

                      Andrew R. Pulsipher

     The story of Myles Keogh of course does not end well, but on the grassy plains of Montana Territory.  He and General Custer were the only two soldiers whose bodies were not mutilated that day, supposedly because of the Papal medals he still wore.  It's said that when Sitting Bull was killed years later, he was wearing one of those medals. After Myles' death he was buried on the battlefield with the others-- the only survivor of the fight was his horse Comanche.  His body did not remain in that lonely, windswept grave for long.  His friends, the Martin family, had his remains shipped to Auburn where he rests in their own family plot at Fort Hill Cemetery.  It's somehow fitting Myles is buried in a cemetery with a military sounding name though it is not a military cemetery.  His sister Ellen in Ireland was reportedly horrified that her brother's final resting place was not a Catholic burial ground.  To appease her, the Martins had a cross placed on his grave.

     So, did Grandfather ever meet Myles Keogh?  It's sort of doubtful, but certainly not outside the realm of possibility.  Perhaps on the road or if Grandfather had cause to visit the grounds of Willowbrook as an employee at some point.  One of those questions that will probably never be answered, but intriguing to think about.

     There is a short You Tube video about Myles here.