Sunday, September 25, 2016
Sometimes, interruptions to the daily routine can be welcome.
Twice each month, I try to keep tabs on my research progress by counting such items as total number of individuals added to each family tree—a tree each for my paternal and maternal side, as well as the same for my husband's family. I also track how many autosomal matches are currently in each of our accounts at both Family Tree DNA and AncestryDNA. And, in that ever-hopeful anticipation that it will someday occur, I also keep a column to list those matches which have actually been confirmed by a documented paper trail (a sorry number, incidentally, as I've only been able to confirm five apiece, of which two people were already known relatives solicited by me to take the test).
The past two weeks, however, have been taken up with the joyful possibility that I might just be able to confirm at least one more distant cousin, if not two.
After sending out introductory email after email—many disappearing into the ether, never to be seen again—I actually got an encouraging response from one match on my husband's side. The beauty of this connection was twofold. First, this respondent was just as keen as I am to figure out the connection. Second, checking the "in common with" function at FTDNA, this particular match also brings up the New Zealand connection I mentioned earlier this month.
I sometimes hesitate to suggest working as a group on these DNA projects, else someone may think I'm spamming—yes, believe it or not, there have been such innuendoes—but I gave it a try and was delighted to see that the other two parties were game to work on this together.
This isn't an easy project, incidentally. Apparently, this newer match doesn't clearly have any surnames which fit my husband's profile, as far as his ancestors from County Kerry go. But there is that unusual match with the other Kelly family I've been talking about lately. The reason I'm pursuing that connection is because of this work, behind the scenes, comparing genealogical notes with this new DNA match.
The fallout from this development is that I've had some promising progress on some lines, but not so much on the others. There is, after all, only so many research hours in any given week.
So let's look at the numbers, and see where progress has been made, so far in this second half of September.
For my husband's paternal tree—the one with the potential Kelly and Falvey family DNA connections—I managed to add only eleven new names to the tree, giving a current total of 1,062. However, that is a misleading report. Because I wasn't entirely sure that the other Kelly family I'm researching would actually turn out to be relatives of our John and Johanna Falvey Kelly, I actually constructed a separate tree for them. So, if you add the total number in that new tree to my father in law's tree, you'd have an additional thirty three people—forty four in total added in the last two weeks, resulting in 1,095 on his paternal side.
There. That sounds better.
That wasn't all, though. I do try to keep up on research on all sides of our families, so I added 83 more names to my mother in law's tree, to reach a total there of 8,557. On my own trees, I added 115 to my maternal side, to total 8,723. Now that I've switched from working on my paternal Polish roots, however, there was zero progress on that tree, which still stands at 345.
Meanwhile, those DNA matches keep rolling in. My husband is up to 861 matches at FTDNA and 159 at Ancestry. Guess that sale at FTDNA is working, because it means an additional twenty five matches to work on there since I checked two weeks ago.
On my own side, I now have 1,362 matches at FTDNA, up 29 from the last check, and 372 at Ancestry. I limit my correspondence with new matches to those at the range of second to fourth cousins or closer, so I only contacted two additional people in this last sequence, same as I did for my husband's results.
Still, just that one respondent has kept me busy with reviewing family trees and various theoretical scenarios proposed in our correspondence. I'm having a grand time considering the possibilities. Of course, the bottom line is that we all hope we can figure out the connection—doing so will likely shine a light on a branch of the family tree we hadn't known about before. But even if it comes to naught, I'm certainly enjoying myself having such an invigorating discussion about a pursuit over which we all seem to be equally passionate.
Saturday, September 24, 2016
Stories incorporating the author's family history are captivating me, lately. I love to see how writers weave that history into their narrative.
For those of us who have spent years honing the genealogical research skills of the process, we tend to focus on the precision of the verification—details of documentation, ad nauseam. While those skills may be admirable in genealogical circles, they're not quite so compelling to the general public. If we want our family's stories to have a reception less icy than the dreaded "my eyes glaze over" response, we need to branch out and see how those with more writing skills than genealogical research skills handle the project.
The book I read last month—The Stonecutter's Aria—definitely was presented with a writer's flair. Artfully crafted, the story presented the case for one Italian immigrant family with a tender touch. The handling of the tale, though, verged on fictionalization, somehow riling my internal genealogist enough to interrupt my passive acceptance of the narrative.
This month, I want to see how another writer dealt with sharing his family's story—Oh Beautiful, published in 2010 by journalist John Paul Godges. While this author may see himself as being in the same vein of memoir writing as the last author I mentioned—who saw the writing of her family's history as personally therapeutic—his claim of "group therapy" for his family aside, his was a masterful effort to blend the story of his immigrant parents with the disparate legacies bestowed by them on each of his siblings.
Perhaps seeking my cues from similar works of professional writers may seem intimidating. After all, this book was written by a man who does this sort of work for a living—and yet, he says it took him ten years, from start to finish, to produce the book.
Being a professional does have its up side. After the launching of this indie volume—Godges published using CreateSpace—the book received enough acclaim to make any writer envious. He made the rounds on several writers' blogs, discussing the-writing-of and related topics. He even made a (predictable) cameo appearance on the family history focused blogger Lynn Palermo's The Armchair Genealogist.
Using his family's dynamics as illustration, he used his manuscript to demonstrate his theme:
To be an American in the fullest sense of the word means to discover oneself as an individual within a community—and to sustain that tension, to the detriment of neither the individual nor the community.
This idea grew from his reflections on how different each of the siblings in his family—the children of a Polish immigrant and the daughter of Italian immigrants—turned out to be. That became not only the metaphor for supporting his theme, but the concept upon which he hung the subtext of various spans of American history. Even the titles of his chapters leaned upon that concept, taking their cues from such eras as the Great War, the Depression, and various episodes within the social turmoil of the twentieth century.
Oh, Beautiful is not for the faint of heart. Godges tightly weaves that theme throughout all 485 pages of the text, then augments it with endnotes, bibliography and lots of family photographs. However, as he, himself, pointed out, "there is an awful lot of pain in this book." Though he does admit having author John Steinbeck as his role model, his choice to present that pain as starkly and unembellished as he does comes from that realization about life. As he mentioned in his interview with Lynn Palermo,
The most important parts of our lives also happen to be the most painful parts of our lives. When we keep those stories of pain to ourselves, either intentionally or unintentionally, we deny ourselves a great deal of wisdom that we can also pass down to our children.
For the not-so-stouthearted among readers, Amazon offers a "look inside" for a reading test drive. Google Books offers three sample chapters below their listing of reviews.
I'm not even sure how I first heard about Oh Beautiful, but I knew right away I needed to read it. As far behind in my reading as I am—I often am possessed with that "gotta read it" spirit, but not so much with the follow-through—it is probably a good thing that the weather here has finally turned to that curl-up-with-a-book kind of season. It will probably take several of those sessions—and multiple cups of coffee and hot chocolate—to get through all five hundred pages.
Friday, September 23, 2016
The family plot in the Fort Wayne Catholic Cemetery co-owned by two Kelly families presents me with some names which I know and already have researched—those of my husband's ancestor, John Kelly. The others belong to a family which might be related to ours, or may not. The task now is to determine the connection. That assignment, however, may take on the aspect of a very exhaustive search.
Though John Kelly and his family have been familiar names to me for years, the family of Timothy Kelly has presented research problems. Seeking out each member's date of death, though, is not so complicated; here they all are, assembled for anyone to view, in the same family plot. So that will be our starting point for today's review.
The Fort Wayne Catholic Cemetery was established at its current location in 1873. The first burial in the Kelly family plot was actually of a one year old infant named William Kelly, who died July 29, 1874. Whether he was the child of John and Johanna Kelly or the plot's co-owner, Timothy Kelly, I can't tell at this point, but his was likely the family's impetus for securing a family burial location.
The few details I can determine regarding the co-owner of the Kelly family plot, Timothy Kelly, are provided on the Allen County Public Library's genealogical databases. As we've already seen, Timothy Kelly was born in Ireland around 1828. (I say "around," because as you've already read, there have been several dates offered for his year of birth.) The cemetery burial records give his passing as September 22, 1901.
Timothy Kelly's wife was Ellen Hannan Kelly, who happened to be the first of his family whom I can confirm was buried in the newly-established Catholic Cemetery. According to cemetery records, her date of death was September 27, 1875. She died young. Her obituary alluded to that fact in mentioning the many who mourned her—though not happening to actually, you know, mention the names of any of those in her family who would have been the most grieved at her passing. The cemetery record made note of her age as thirty seven years, three months.
She was not alone for long, laid to rest in that lonely spot outside the city limits of their adopted home in America. The eldest son of the other Kelly family joined her at the start of the new year in 1876.
As for the children of Timothy and Ellen, not all were buried in this family plot. Of those who were, the eldest was Andrew, a divorced man who died December 2, 1940, at the age of seventy three years.
The next youngest child of Timothy and Ellen was a son named after his father. The younger Timothy was one of the three Timothys I mentioned the other day. He died in 1909, much like the namesake son of the plot's co-owner, John: young, single, living and dying in the same home in which he was born.
With these burials related to Timothy Kelly plus those already mentioned for co-owner John Kelly, that totals nine family members. There were others in the family of Timothy and Ellen Kelly, but since they were married, they were buried in their own family plots.
Still, to help in scouring the details for any clues allowing us to determine just how this plot's co-owners might have been related (if at all), it would be useful to review the two married children of Timothy and Ellen, and then puzzle over what might have become of two additional daughters who seemed to have dropped from view about the time they reached their twenties.
Above: "On the Quays," 1888 charcoal on canvas by Irish landscape artist, Frank O'Meara; courtesy Wikipedia; in the public domain.
Thursday, September 22, 2016
When John and Johanna Falvey Kelly arrived in the United States sometime before July of 1869, they brought with them their three surviving children who had been born in County Kerry, Ireland. This included their eldest son, Timothy, and two daughters, Catherine and Mary.
The reason I know the family made it to Fort Wayne before July, 1869, is that this was the date when their next son arrived. Patrick Timothy Kelly was born on July 18, 1869, conveniently placing an incontrovertible marker on the Kelly family immigration timeline. Thus, the family had to have crossed the Atlantic sometime after their youngest daughter, Mary, was born in County Kerry in 1867, and before Patrick's arrival in 1869.
Once the Kelly family settled into their new home in Fort Wayne, they welcomed one last child into their household: son John, arriving in 1876.
The oldest and the youngest were the only Kelly children to have never married. John's son Timothy, because he died of an accidental gunshot wound at the age of sixteen, never had the opportunity. John's youngest son, named after him, never carried on the family name either, living in his parents' home as a single man until his death in 1925 at the age of forty nine.
The other Kelly siblings all married. The eldest daughter, Catherine, married widower John Kelly Stevens and became the mother of my husband's paternal grandfather before her untimely death. Her younger sister, Mary, married local railroad man Patrick Phillips and became the mother of four daughters. Their next youngest brother, also named Patrick, married a young widow named Emma Carle Brown from Logansport, Indiana. He adopted her then-sixteen-month-old son, Frederick Brown, and together they welcomed seven additional children into their family—all told, a total of four sons and four daughters.
Each of these Kelly children I can locate in the Fort Wayne Catholic Cemetery—and quite a few of the grandchildren, as well.
When it comes to questions about the Kelly family plot, though, what I need to see is who, among the burials in lot number 232 of Section C, belong to the family of John and Johanna Kelly. Of course, there is John, himself, who died in 1892. His wife Johanna joined him in 1903. Their son John, who died in 1925, was also buried in the family plot. And the tragic youth, their young son Timothy, was the first of their immediate family to be buried there in 1876.
Another burial in the plot remains a mystery: the one year old child named William may have been the son of John and Johanna—or he may have been the son of Timothy and Ellen. I haven't located any documentation to determine the relationship, yet.
With one exception, the remainders of the burials appear to belong to the family of Timothy and Ellen. Since we are trying to find any further clues about this other family sharing the same burial plot, we'll begin discussing what can be found on Timothy Kelly's family from these burial records tomorrow.
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
The Kelly family plot in Fort Wayne, Indiana, was—as I discovered in searching for our ancestor Catherine Kelly Stevens—a jointly owned plot held by two different Kelly families.
The presumption is that the joint owners—John Kelly and Timothy Kelly—were relatives, but I still haven't been able to determine just how they were. To document this relationship might involve a more exhaustive search into the roots of the other Kelly family than I would otherwise have done. After all, this might turn out to have been just another friendly face remembered from that far away homeland in County Kerry, Ireland. Or these two Kellys might turn out to be cousins. Or brothers.
I spent a lot of time using the online databases of the Allen County Public Library—at least, when I wasn't traveling through the area and could stop in for a brief in-person research session—so I'm grateful for that long-distance access. Because of those resources, I was able to determine more about the Kelly family plot at the Fort Wayne Catholic Cemetery than could otherwise be gleaned using Find A Grave.
For the most part—with one notable exception—the family plot was labeled Lot Number 232 in Section C of the Catholic Cemetery. According to the map on the cemetery's website now, Section C is also called the Garden of Angels. An information page provided on the cemetery by Find A Grave indicates that, at its current location, the Catholic Cemetery was open for interments in 1873—just two years before the first of the Kellys' burials in their family plot.
It could have been possible that the church, in a push to gather enough support to purchase the new cemetery property on Lake Avenue—then one mile outside the city limits of the time—might have encouraged parishioners to pool their resources to purchase plots. However, the fact that—with one notable exception—each of the burials in the family plot were surnamed Kelly leads me to think that all those buried in the Kelly plot were likely related to each other.
The question is how.
For instance, there are three different Timothy Kellys buried in this plot. One, obviously, became the final resting place of the co-owner of the plot, the Timothy Kelly born—at least according to the cemetery record—in 1829. Because I already have verification on it, I can identify the Timothy Kelly who died in 1876 as the son of John Kelly, while the third Timothy Kelly was the son of the co-owner, Timothy Kelly.
With just those three—the third Timothy having died in 1901—you can see how the family plot was comprised of members of two families. How they related to each other—if at all—I have yet to discover.
By searching the Allen County library's database of Catholic Cemetery burials, I can simply enter the surname Kelly and bring up details on the seventy Kellys who were buried there from the cemetery's establishment in 1873 through 1993. Then, using my "find" function and searching the exact designation of lot number—entered in the database as "ln. 232"—I can spot every one of the people buried in that Kelly family plot.
Since the database records provide me with the name, date of death and sometimes the year of birth—as well as some other details—I can begin to separate those Kellys belonging to the family of John Kelly from those belonging to Timothy Kelly. Since I don't yet know how Timothy Kelly fits into my husband's Kelly family line, I started a separate tree in my database management program for the details I find on his family members. Once I've located enough convincing documentation to do so—and if the relationship warrants the move—I'll migrate the information into my husband's family tree.
Hopefully, at that point, it will help me match up the relationship between my husband and these two recent matches that have popped up on his DNA test results.
Before we can untangle any of that, though, we need to start at the beginning, and review what is already known about each of the players in this two-family tango of Kellys.
Above: "Cobbler's Shop in Lancelot Place, Knightsbridge," watercolor by Dublin-born artist, Rose Maynard Barton; courtesy Wikipedia; in the public domain.
Tuesday, September 20, 2016
It all started—and ended—with an untimely death. Catherine Kelly, daughter of John and Johanna Falvey Kelly, had recently married a widower in Fort Wayne by the name of John Kelly Stevens. The recently bereaved man, left with a one year old daughter and a two week old infant—who also eventually succumbed—was likely keen on finding a new wife as quickly as possible. Life in the 1880s afforded no such niceties as Family and Medical Leave Acts.
Factoring in a respectable amount of time for mourning his loss, John Kelly Stevens returned to work at the Bass Foundry and Machine Works, where he was a molder. He found someone to temporarily care for his toddler daughter while he took care of the inescapable duties of providing the finances to meet their needs.
Life seemed to return to some normalcy once John found a suitable bride and new "mother" for his daughter. John K. "Stevans" and Kate Kelly were married on October 16, 1883.
The new "norm" didn't last long, however. What might otherwise have been joyful news that Catherine had delivered a son turned to yet another tragedy. Soon after giving birth, Catherine Kelly Stevens died on November 23, 1884—barely a year and a month after her marriage.
Left, this time, with two young children to care for, the man must have been doubly devastated. After his first loss, even though his first wife had died in Fort Wayne, he had had to turn to his father and step-mother, back in Lafayette, Indiana, to assist with caring for his surviving daughter as well as burying his wife and infant. Like many young couples, this was a young man who had no financial margin.
When John's second wife, Catherine, died in 1884, it was difficult to determine exactly where she was buried. There was no family plot in Fort Wayne for a couple as young as this, and John's family was not only all the way across the state, but likely in no condition to step up and bear the burden of this additional cost of burial.
It was thus understandably difficult, all these years later, to find the location of Catherine Kelly Stevens' grave. In retrospect, the emphasis of her maiden name over her married name on the headstone and records may have been part of my research dilemma. But the rest of the difficulty lies with the fact that it was not her husband who stepped up to pay her burial expenses, but her father, John Kelly—and another man.
That other man was named Kelly, as well—Timothy Kelly. This Timothy, however, was not Catherine's older brother Timothy, who had died years before in a tragic accident. Besides, this Timothy Kelly was too old to be John Kelly's son. And yet, he seemed to be too young to have been John's brother. With the inconsistent manner in which Irish-Americans handled reports of their date of birth, John had reported, at various times, that he been born anywhere from 1808 to 1830. Timothy's date of birth had been given as anywhere between 1827 and 1839.
No matter how they were related—I can only presume, at this point—they were enough of acquaintances of each other to decided to go into the financial arrangement of jointly purchasing a family plot at the Fort Wayne Catholic Cemetery.
The impetus for this financial partnership was likely not the death of John's daughter Catherine, as I eventually discovered. But it was in seeking the location of her resting place—and in examining all the burials in John and Timothy Kelly's family plot—that I found the record of Catherine Kelly Stevens' burial.
That discovery, years ago, was the start of the collaboration with the Kelly researcher I mentioned yesterday. It was in a partnership of our own, through multitudes of emails and snail mail packages, that we tried to piece together the relationship of those two Kelly men back in 1880s Fort Wayne.
We never could.
Again, as had happened with another research partnership I've discussed here before—that time, on the Gordon family—my fellow researcher eventually died, not knowing the answer to the questions we had about our mutual Kelly families. Since then, online research has evolved so much that I begin to entertain hopes that maybe, just maybe, this time, I can find something more to lead me further down the trail to an answer on this two-Kellys puzzle.
Above: "An Old Woman and Children in a Cottage Interior," 1887 painting by Irish artist William Gerard Barry; courtesy Wikipedia; in the public domain.
Monday, September 19, 2016
It sometimes takes the amorphous ambience of a weekend to let the riveting focus of the business week drain out of our lives and allow the ebb and flow of the breath of life to rejuvenate us. Somehow, researching that family tree on Sundays also benefits from the laid-back gift of weekends.
I was mulling over my dilemma with the New Zealand connection to my Falvey family from County Kerry. Mainly, I was wondering what my next move could be. There was nothing definitive out there, as far as records went in Ireland during the 1840s through 1860s, that seemed to finger our Johanna Falvey. Certainly not her husband, the unfortunately-named John Kelly.
So, here I was, lazily poking around the Internet yesterday, letting my mind wander while I caught up on some blog reading. As usual, I made the rounds of my favorite bloggers who make a habit of publishing those "Best of" collections—Randy Seaver at Genea-Musings, Linda Stufflebean's "Recommended Reads" on Empty Branches on the Family Tree, and for my Canadian roots and branches, Gail Dever of Genealogy à la carte. I ran across a mention of a post by Amy Johnson Crow regarding that well-known advice by Elizabeth Shown Mills about following the leads in your ancestors' "FAN Club"—Friends, Associates and Neighbors.
There is hardly a genealogical researcher alive who hasn't been exposed to that concept, but just in case you haven't heard, the idea is that people do not live their lives in total isolation. They move in circles. The people in those circles have a habit of showing up with enough regularity in our mystery ancestors' lives to merit some attention in their own right.
You are probably guessing, by my emphasis on this casual encounter with yet another helpful Amy Johnson Crow article, that I am going to take up the rallying cry and go pursue some Falvey FAN Club members.
If so, you are almost right. It is not exactly a Falvey connection I'm going to follow—despite my current quest to figure out the nexus with a gentleman in New Zealand who just happens to match my husband's DNA—but a Kelly connection.
What happened was this: as I do every two weeks, I had just checked the most recent additions to our DNA matches, isolating those who rank at the relationship of second to fourth cousin or closer. A new match turned out to have our New Zealand Falvey connection in common with us. Looking at this new match, pulling up the tree and list of surnames, I noticed one: Deheny.
Deheny is not in my husband's tree. But it has come up in my research, over and over again. The reason is that someone in our Kelly line—a Kelly man of an unknown relationship—lost his wife at a young age and remarried. His second wife's name was Deheny.
Because I could never figure out just how this Kelly man was related to Johanna Falvey's husband, John Kelly, I did what made the most sense to me: not plug it into our own family tree. Even though I had extensive correspondence, over the years, with a Kelly researcher from this branch of the family, we never could figure out the connection—so I filed all those emails and notes away in a box. To work on later.
Looks like it is now time to retrieve that box and go through its contents, once again. Maybe this time, not only will I figure out how to connect this Deheny marriage and Kelly relative to Johanna's family, but find a way to explain just how these two DNA matches connect with a person living in New Zealand.
Above: "Parks Place, Knightsbridge, London," 1916 watercolor by Dublin-born artist, Rose Maynard Barton; courtesy Wikipedia; in the public domain.