James Files for Workman's Comp

Another interesting set of documents included in James McGregor's probate records pertain to an on-the-job injury he sustained in 1911.  At that time, James was a station hand working for the Burlington railroad in Macon, Missouri, and had held that position for 10 years.  Then, on the 27th of November, an accident happened that appears to have changed, and may have ultimately ended, James' life.

Five documents make up the Brotherhood of American Yeomen Proof of Accidental Injury packet.  At first I assumed that the Brotherhood of American Yeomen (BAY) was a type of labor union, but once I dug into the organization I found that it was actually a fraternal insurance society associated with the Iowa State Insurance Company, through which James maintained several policies.  It's clear from the affidavits that James' injury was severe enough to warrant a claim, and that his career was ended by the events of that November day.

According to James' statement, signed on 24 February 1912, he was unloading timbers from a rail car when somehow the 10-foot long 8x10 ties broke loose.  Eight to ten beams fell on top of James, breaking his pelvis and severely bruising his left side and back.  He was confined to his bed for six weeks and to his home for four weeks after that.  Two physicians attended James, a W.H. Miller and an A.B. Miller, and both of their statements are included in the package.  Both of their accounts and diagnosis are similar, with their answer to one of the questions being of particular interest.  Question number 11 asks "Will claimant recover from accident in the ordinary course of treatment?"  Dr. W.H. Miller simply states "do not know" while Dr. A.B. Miller writes "I cannot tell. He is slowly improving."

According to James' death certificate, he died from sepsis with a contributing factor of tuberculosis prostate, a condition he suffered from for 2 years - or since early 1912 or late 1911.  I'm certainly no medical expert so I cannot say if James' accident contributed to the onset of this disease or was simply a coincidence.  I can conclude, however, that the events in the rail yard on November 27th, 1911, ended James' career.

Besides shedding light on the injury, the affidavits also give a glimpse into James' every day life.  His own questionnaire (pictured below) shows James to be fond of a beer now and then, having last visited a "saloon" two days prior to the accident.  There is also a form from a correspondent, or witness, named Mrs. Elizabeth Miles who was a seamstress in Macon.  She's essentially a character witness, having known James for 3 years and confirming James' own description of his lifestyle.  The final affidavit in the package was completed by F.T. Skinner, James' foreman, who also knew James for 3 years prior to the accident.

Introducing James and Giddie McGregor

My wife's new-found cousin has been kind enough to send some scans of family photos our way, and of those we've received thus far the most cherished is this photo of James and his third wife Ida "Giddie" Calhoun. I am uncertain of when the photo was taken, though judging from their clothing I would assume this is a wedding photo and would be dated around 24 December 1897.  It is credited to The Smith Photo Co., but I can find no information about that entity.



James McGregor's Will

Back in August I blogged about my James McGregor brick wall and mentioned that I had sent away to Macon County for his will and probate records.  Well, the packet arrived a couple of days ago and I was very pleased with the wealth of information, and number of surprises, it contained.  As to the big question about James' origins, the documents didn't contain even a hint of an answer.  They did, however, reveal some details about James' life that were previously unknown to us.

The first document in the packet was James' will, handwritten on the 3rd of February, 1914 - the day before he died.  It was obviously written by someone else's hand, for James' scratchy signature is at odds with the rest of the handwriting on the page.  The will revealed the expected - dissolution of his estate, with the proceeds distributed among his children Robert Lee, James, and Opal - but the valuable information began to be revealed immediately.  We learned that James' (the son) middle name was Pleasant, after James' (the father) father-in-law.  We also learned that Giddie Calhoun was actually James' third wife!  Until now, nothing we'd found mentioned previous wives - or children.  The will revealed both.

First mentioned was Mary Jane Jenkins, with whom James had a daughter named Mary Jane McGregor.  Digging through Missouri records online I discovered their marriage in 1882 and Mary Jane's birth in 1884.  Sadly, Mary (Jenkins) passed away on September 14th, 1884, at the age of 21.  While the record of her death attributes the cause to malarial fever, the proximity to her daughter's birth leads me to think that complications from that event at least contributed.  With the loss of the 1890 federal census it's hard to say if James' baby girl lived with him or her maternal grandparents. What is certain is that in 1900, according to the census, Mary was indeed living with her grandparents in Lingo Township, Macon County.  I suspect it wasn't very long before she went to live with them because....

Wife Number 2 came on the scene.  James married Emma Bundren on June 16, 1886, in Macon County.  With Emma he also had a daughter, May.  I could find no birth record for May, but additional contents of the probate packet places her age in 1896 at 8 years.  Those additional papers are the divorce decree issued in Arapahoe County, Colorado on February 25th, 1896.  Did James spend time living in Colorado?  It turns out that he did not, but his wife certainly did.  The same year that her divorce from James was granted, she married a man named William Baer - in direct violation of the divorce terms which stated that neither party was to marry within one year.  James married Giddie Calhoun on Christmas Eve 1897, but Emma's circumstances seem shady.  William Baer was also from Missouri, so there's circumstantial evidence to believe that the two ran off to Colorado.  It would certainly be interesting to know the whole truth of the matter.

There are many more documents and other interesting tidbits of information contained in the probate records, but this post has become quite long so I will share the rest in subsequent installments.

The Greatest Reward

For family historians, discovering who our ancestors were and where they came from is what drives us to spend hours upon hours pouring over records, indexes, photographs and newspaper clippings. Equally important and rewarding, however, is the opportunity for discovering previously unknown (or long-lost) living relatives with which we can share being a part of the same family. Yesterday I had just such a breakthrough.

Back in August I detailed my James McGregor brick wall which prevents me from peering further back down the McGregor family line.  I decided to attack the problem using a linear approach - digging for more on James' two other children (Robert Lee, James' other child, was my wife's great-great-grandfather, so I have his descendants pretty well researched).  I knew the birth date and place of James' son James, but little else.  For his third child Opal, however, I had a lot more to go on.  One item of interest was her obituary.  A month ago I blogged about the value of obituaries, and so I'd hoped to strike gold (or at least some silver) by looking for Opal's survivors.

Opal had two sons listed, Wendell and Jerry.  I hit the 'net and found Wendell rather quickly.  Unfortunately, it was his obituary from Wisconsin.  I'll be sending away for a copy of it soon, but in the meantime I returned to my searching and focused on Jerry.  I found a match in both name and location, but the only additional info I managed to learn was his mailing address.  Cheryl typed up an introductory letter containing her contact information and snail-mailed it to California - fingers crossed.  Last night an email popped in from Jerry, and he confirmed that he was indeed Cheryl's first cousin (twice removed)!  As an added bonus, he had been doing his own genealogical research and mentioned having boxes of photos, records, and newspaper clippings that he'd be more than happy to send our way.

Besides the prospect of knocking a few bricks out of the James McGregor wall, Cheryl has reached out and connected with a member of her family that she never knew existed.  Jerry mentioned that he thought his branch of the family had lost touch with his uncle Robert's branch (Cheryl's g-g-grandfather) forever, so he seems equally thrilled at this discovery.  This is what makes those long hours so worth the effort.

Tombstone Tuesday: William Shumate

William W. Shumate

Kentucky

Pvt 501 Prcht Inf 101 Abn Div

World War II

Feb 2 1923    Jan 3 1945

Photo taken 5 September 2010
Location: Georgetown Cemetery, Georgetown, Scott County, Kentucky

Private William W. Shumate is one of Scott County's few casualties of the Second World War.  He was drafted the first of April, 1943, and as a member of Company H of the 501st Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division, he likely saw action during D-Day, Operation Market Garden, and the Battle of the Bulge.  The war for Private Shumate ended on January 3rd, 1945, at Bastogne in Belgium.  Ironically, most of the intense fighting suffered by the "Battered Bastards of Bastogne" had subsided by the end of December, 1944, with only sporadic action occurring after the first of the year.  Without his service records, the circumstances of Private Shumate's death remain a mystery that deserves to be solved.

Central Kentucky Obituaries

I've added a new page to the blog, aptly titled Obituaries, on which I intend to provide a running index of the obituaries that appear in The Anderson News, the Frankfort State Journal, and the Georgetown News-Graphic.  These publications cover the Kentucky counties of Anderson, Franklin, and Scott respectively.  The index may seem a bit busy, with quite a bit of info condensed into rather smallish text, but there's only so much that can be done when working within the constraints of a template.

I'll gladly provide an electronic transcript of any obituary requests I receive.

Tombstone Tuesday: Bernhardt Pinke

Bernhardt Pinke

July 16, 1917

Photo taken March 2009
Location: Frankfort Cemetery, Frankfort, Franklin County, Kentucky

This very simple grave marker belongs to Mr. Bernhardt Pinke, a carpenter who emigrated from Germany and in 1910 was making his living as an employee of a hotel located at what was 417 Main Street in Frankfort (and also served as his residence).  On July 14th, 1917, Mr. Pinke had the misfortune of being run over by an automobile in downtown Frankfort, resulting in his death.  His grave marker lists the 16th of July as the date Mr. Pinke died, but according to his death certificate he passed on the 14th and was buried on the 16th.  It seems he had no family nearby, and little about his history is recorded on his death certificate other than he was about 68 years old at the time of his death and that he was originally from Munster, Germany.  What was known for sure, however, was the date that he died and you'd think that those in charge of providing this marker would have at least got that right.

The Death of James M. Riley

When tracing a family tree, it's not often that I come across a cause of death that catches my attention as being unusual or remarkable.  In my own family history there have been drunken accidents and even a series of murders, but while recently researching my wife's family I came across one that I had never before encountered - tornado.

James M. Riley, my wife's second great-grandfather, was a farmer living in northwest Ohio in 1922 (just outside of Wapakoneta in Auglaize County, to be exact).  The day after Easter, April 17, a monumental storm began assaulting the Midwest.  Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio were devastated as a series of tornadoes carved a path of destruction stretching from Washington County in Illinois to Auglaize County in Ohio.  One particular series of tornadoes began at about 3:30 CST near Ogden, Illinois and moved east-northeast through Indiana before dissipating 210 miles later in Auglaize County - near Wapakoneta.  While these tornadoes were certainly not the most destructive in terms of lives lost and damage caused to property, they nonetheless wrecked havoc among the farms and small towns of the area.  Unfortunately, James was one of the sixteen deaths attributed to this storm.

According to his death certificate, James did not perish during the storm but was injured enough to be transported to St. Rita's Hospital in Lima, a distance of approximately twelve miles.  I can only imagine how jarring that journey must have been.  Even if James' family possessed an automobile, the farm roads would have been treacherous after a storm like that - especially considering that the trek was likely made after nightfall.  The records indicate that there was some kind of surgical operation performed on his left arm, which apparently did not go very well and contributed to James' death.  My medical vocabulary is sparse, so it's hard for me to determine exactly what that "contributing cause" might be other than a gangrenous left arm.

As tragic as this event was, it could have been considerably worse.  The eight Riley children, including my wife's great-grandfather Glenn, survived.  I personally have issues with tornadic storms, so this particular discovery has really touched a chord with me.  The things you find when you start to dig.....

Tombstone Tuesday: Patrick J. Coleman, Jr.

Coleman

Patrick Joseph Jr.

July 14, 1884

Mar. 22, 1931

Photo taken 6 March 2009
Location:  Frankfort Cemetery, Frankfort, Franklin County, Kentucky

Patrick Coleman's parents, Patrick Joseph Sr. and Margaret Murphy, along with his sister Elizabeth, emigrated from the "free state" of Ireland in 1882 and settled on Steele Street in Frankfort, Franklin County, Kentucky.  Patrick Jr. was born there in 1884 and didn't stray far at all, living at house number 509 until his death from pneumonia in 1931.  He was a career plumber and never wed, instead sharing the family home with his parents and younger brother Lambert and his family (which included seven children).  It appears a bout with influenza brought on the pneumonia, and Patrick died at home.  He was buried two days later, on 24 March, in Frankfort Cemetery.

Sources:
[1930 U.S. Census, First Ward, Frankfort, Franklin County, Kentucky; ED 2, sheet 6A, family 133, dwelling 144, Pat Coleman household; National Archives microfilm publication T626, roll 745]
[1920 U.S. Census, Bridge Precinct, Frankfort, Franklin County, Kentucky; ED 81, sheet 5B, dwelling 109, family 112, Pat Coleman household; National Archives microfilm publication T625, roll 570]
[1910 U.S. Census, Bridge Precinct, Frankfort, Franklin County, Kentucky; ED 44, sheet 15A, dwelling 286, family 289, Pat Coleman Sr. household; National Archives microfilm publication T624, roll 476]
[1900 U.S. Census, First Magisterial District, Frankfort, Franklin County, Kentucky; ED 66, sheet 5, dwelling 73, family 85, Patrick Coleman household; National Archives microfilm publication T623, roll 521]
[Kentucky Dept. for Libraries and Archives, Vital Statistics Original Death Certificates - Microfilm (1911-1955); Frankfort, KY]

The Value of Obituaries

An item that can prove invaluable to a genealogist's quest, the obituary is nevertheless often overlooked.  One can find a wealth of information within these short blurbs, such as married names of female descendants, residences, occupations, church membership, etc. - each providing yet another avenue to pursue in learning all that we can about our ancestors.  Obituaries can also help solve genealogical mysteries and knock holes through a brick wall or two.

A week ago I posted about requesting some Robak obituaries from the Monroe County Historical Museum in Michigan to help tackle some outstanding issues I'm currently facing, the main one being the immigration brick wall.  In addition to the obituaries (which arrived in less than a week!!), I had requested a death certificate for great-grandfather John Robak from Monroe County.  The same day I made my request, I received a call from a very helpful woman at the County Clerk's office because there was no record of John's death in their files.  The obituary that I'd requested now had the potential of playing a role in dismantling two brick walls.

As to the first issue, the obits for John and his wife Viola did little to shed light in the immigration problem.  One of the arrival years I already had was 1906, and both of their obits echoed this fact.  Same with their country of birth, but I was able to learn that they married on September 12, 1902, when all I'd had before was a census estimate of 1903.  Unfortunately, no names of parents or siblings was given.

Significant light was shed upon the matter of John's death, however.  It turns out that John had died while visiting his daughter Rose, who's house was located just across the county line in Wayne County.  This explains why Monroe County had no record of his death, since the event actually occurred in a different county.  Not only was that mystery solved, but I was able to add several other lines to the family tree by discovering the spouses of all of John and Viola's children.

If you can find them, they're definitely a valuable source.  All that being said, they are comprised of second-hand information which can be vague and even contradict official records.  Keep that in mind.

Tombstone Tuesday: John Brislan

In Memory Of

John Brislan

Born

May 19, 1800.

Died

Mar. 6, 1876.

May he rest in peace.

Erected by thine Son.

Father.

Location: Frankfort Cemetery, Frankfort, Franklin Co., Kentucky
Photo taken 23 March 2009

For my first Tombstone Tuesday contribution, and the inaugural post for this blog, I profiled the grave marker of a Ms. Hanora Canty and mentioned that in 1880 she was living with her son John's family, which included John's father-in-law James Brislan.  This week I'd like to introduce Mr. John Brislan, whose relationship to James is unclear but there is likely a familial tie of some kind.  None of the Brislans appear in the 1870 census for any county in Kentucky, or the United States for that matter.  In 1880, however, they are clearly established in Franklin County.  Jerry Brislan, a reputable 47-year-old grocer, appears likely to be the son of John who erected the monument in the photo and whose own son Jerry Jr. went on to be elected Sheriff in 1890.  Alas, I can't declare this mystery solved until more in-depth research is done.

Immigration Consternation

I find it quite frustrating that the vast physical boundary known as the Atlantic Ocean often manifests in genealogical research as an equally foreboding obstacle.  Two of the lines I'm working on for my wife's family reach the East Coast and then - vanish.  Well, it's not quite as dramatic as that, but information about them definitely dries up around the time they were to have arrived in the United States.

The Robaks, for example, are quite the enigma.  Thankfully my wife's grandfather is still with us and is more than happy to share stories of his childhood growing up an a farm in southern Michigan.  According to his recollection, the Robak family (mother, father, eldest brother) arrived in Detroit from Austria just prior to his birth in 1916.  The census records bear some of this out, showing father John as being of Polish decent born in Austria and a naturalized citizen from 1920 on.  His oldest child Walter and his wife Viola (or Valerie of Valeria, depending on the year) remain aliens until the 1930 census.  Their year of arrival is most suspect, however.  My wife's grandfather insisted it was 1916, yet in the 1910 census all three family members are counted and list the year as 1907.  In 1920 they list the year of arrival as 1909, and in 1930 it jumps back to 1906.  It seems obvious that the 1916 suggestion is erroneous, particularly when one considers that their first two children born in America have birth years of 1908 and 1912.  This fact also eliminates the year of 1909 listed on the 1920 census.  Still, what were the Robaks up to?  Were they trying to hide something, or did they truly forget when they came to America?  An internet search of immigration and naturalization records, including those of Ellis Island, has turned up absolutely nothing even remotely related to the three immigrant Robaks.  Thanks to Chris Kull, Archivist for the Monroe County Historical Museum in Michigan, I was able to find obituaries for John, Viola, and Paul (a son).  A request for copies has been sent, in which I hope to find more clues about the Robaks' arrival in the United States.  The next step is, I suppose, firing off $20 for a USCIS index search and, if they get a hit, another $20 for the record.

The other family that is giving me fits is the Riley family.  Whereas the Robaks are early 20th-century immigrants, the Rileys take things back to the mid 19th-century and the Irish diaspora.  Beginning with the 1860 census, the Riley family of Christopher and Bridget are fixtures in Urbana, Ohio.  Both Christopher and Bridget consistently list their origins as Ireland. Their first child, Mary, was born in Ohio in 1859 and that is the first record we have of them in America.  In 1860, Christopher's mother Bridget (born in Ireland in 1799) is living with them, so that gives us two ancestors to search for in naturalization and immigration records.  Like the Robaks, however, nothing can be found.  Unfortunately, both Christopher and Bridget (as well as Christopher's mother) are gone before the census questions regarding year of arrival are asked.  Christopher was born in 1831, so basically I am stuck with a considerably large range of twenty-eight years to sift through.  I've not yet exhausted my options when it comes to the Rileys.  I have the date that Christopher passed away, as well as the location of his grave, so perhaps something in his death and burial records will shed some light on the situation.  Assuming, of course, that his records still exist somewhere in Champaign County or the state archives.

With the amount of records kept regarding arriving immigrants, I find it remarkable that actually discovering information pertaining to specific ancestors is a considerable challenge.  I suppose it speaks to the sheer number of people arriving that so many immigrants went uncounted and unrecorded, frustrating genealogists generations later.

Tombstone Tuesday: Ellen Callahan

Ellen

Wife of

Michael Callahan

Born 1806 in Co. Cork

Ireland

Died Jan. 2 1880

Rest in peace

Location: Frankfort Cemetery, Frankfort, Franklin County, Kentucky

Photo taken:  March 2009

Ellen Callahan is, unfortunately, largely anonymous to history.  While no Ellen, married to Michael, can be found living in Franklin County around 1880, there is such a family recorded in Owenton, Owen County, as far back as 1850.  While it's not impossible that Ellen would have been buried in the (at that time) new State Cemetery at Frankfort - 30 miles distant from her home - it does seem unlikely.  The fact that the Ellen in Owenton lists her age such that a birth year of 1810 seems more reasonable than 1806 further lessens the likelihood that this is indeed her resting place.

Brick Wall: James McGregor

I've recently begun researching my wife's ancestry and it didn't take very log at all before I encountered my first, and very formidable, brick wall.  At issue is the origin of her paternal great-great-grandfather, James McGregor of Macon County, Missouri.  Through online research I've been able to learn a great deal about James, such as his marriage to Ida "Giddie" Calhoun and his death in 1914 which left his three young children (the oldest of which, my wife's great-grandfather, was only 15) orphaned.  He's a steady fixture in Macon County from 1880, according to census records, but it's the time from his birth in 1858 until that first census appearance that has me scratching my head.

Family lore has always held that James was an orphan, and that fact is confirmed on his death certificate.  James' father-in-law, Pleasant Calhoun, is listed as the informer on the certificate and notes that James was orphaned in infancy, an event which occurred in Pennsylvania.  This is also circumstantially backed up in the census records as James' story about where his parents were born varies from year to year.  For example, in 1880 he declares that they were both born in Pennsylvania.  In 1900, however, he states that his father was born in Scotland and his mother originated from Ireland.  The census for 1910 displays a slight alteration to the story, with his mother now being from England.

A pretty exhaustive search of census records from 1860 and 1870 has yielded no match for James McGregor, or any name remotely similar, with a birth year of 1858.  So how, if he truly was born in Pennsylvania, did he reach Missouri twenty-two years later?  When he first appears in 1880, he's a boarder in the home of an elderly couple named Linn.  No other McGregors are listed in the county, so a familial tie is very unlikely.  Enter the Orphan Trains as a possibility, then.  I fired off an email to Shirley Andrews, the Missouri contact for the National Orphan Train Complex, asking for more information of the resources available to those who think they may have had an ancestor who was a rider.  After all, several hundred thousand children from eastern cities moved west as part of this phenomena.  Shirley very quickly replied to my inquiry, though she couldn't locate James among her records.  She did, however, have some great suggestions, such as perusing the local newspapers from the period since many Orphan Train arrivals were mentioned in the press.  An interesting side note to my theory is that, in the 1870 census, there is a James Smith living with a Gordon family in Macon County.  This James was born about 1856 in Pennsylvania and is listed as a "domestic servant".  Many Orphan Train riders weren't adopted, but were taken in as laborers, farmhands, and servants.  Could this James and my James be one and the same?  Intriguing.

So what are my next steps?  Thanks to the great information on the website of the Macon County Genealogical Society I was able to ascertain that James' will and probate records still exist at the county courthouse.  I've sent away for copies in the hope that some clue to James' early years might be found there.  The State Historical Society of Missouri has a great collection of newspapers on microfilm that contains many Macon County editions from the 1870s.  They participate in the Inter-Library Loan program, but my local library refuses to accommodate requests for microfilm.  Hopefully the Kentucky Historical Society's Martin F. Schmidt Research Library can help me to get my hands on these reels.  One way or another, I am going to scour through those newspapers!

I'll keep you posted.

Lost Photo: Mary Rech

Do you ever wonder, when browsing an antique store, how all of those great vintage photos came to be there?  Did no one want them?  Were they somehow misplaced?  Or were they the unfortunate victims of estate sales?  I've always wondered who these people were and if their descendants would want to claim the photos, if they only knew.  So to hopefully foster such reunions, I'm starting a periodic feature here at Every Man A Quotation called Lost Photos.  When I find an item with at least some basic identifying information to work with, I'll post it here with what further information I can dig up and hopefully a relative will stumble across the blog.

To get this started, I present a photo of young Ms Rech:

Handwritten on the back of the photo are the words "From Mamie [?] Rech to Aunt Mary.  At the age of 12 yrs. old."  Also on the back is the name of the photography studio in rather ornate style: Gale Studio, 136 Main Street, Bristol Connecticut.  This particular item is what's called a cabinet card, the successor to the highly popular carte-de-visite photos of the mid 19th-century.  Printed on thick stock approximately 4 inches by six inches with embossed lettering on the front and reverse, this photo was meant to be displayed in - you guessed it - cabinets.

So enough about the item, and on to the young woman whose image is captured upon it.  A search of Ancestry.com quickly revealed a Marie M. Rech, a music store sales lady, living in Bristol, CT in 1910.  Born in 1882 in Connecticut, Marie would have been 12 right around 1894 - when cabinet cards were in their heyday and Gale Studios was in fact located at 136 Main Street in Bristol.  According to the census entry, Marie was living with her mother Elizabeth at 102 Laurel Street in a home they shared with another family - widow Elizabeth Hayland and her widower son-in-law James Davis.  Marie's mother was born in New York about 1860 to French-born parents, while her unnamed father is recorded to have been born in Germany.

Unfortunately, I could find nothing about Marie prior to 1910 nor after that particular census until the 1939 Bristol city directory, which lists Marie as Mary M. Rech living at 141 Prospect Street and working as an office assistant at 124 Main Street.  Living with her at this time was a John J. Urnevich.  Marie/Mary resurfaces again in 1948 at the same address and working the same job, though this time she is sharing her home with a William J. Lamb.  Successive city directories (1949, 1951, and 1952) show no change in here whereabouts or occupation, but in 1953 and 1954 she is no longer listed as an employee.  For the years 1955 and 1956, Marie/Mary is living at 119 Academy Street.

On 25 January 1957, at age 75, Marie departed this life.  The information contained in the Connecticut Death Index declares her to have never been married.  That fact, combined with being the only child of Elizabeth Rech, perhaps explains why her photo ended up in an antique shop in Kentucky and not in the hands of descendants.

If Marie, or Mary, M. Rech of Bristol, CT fits into your family tree please get in touch.

Sources cited

[1910 U.S. Census, Bristol, Hartford County, Connecticut, ED 135, sheet 9B, dwelling 92, family 159, Elizabeth Rech household; National Archives microfilm publication T624, roll 130]

[Connecticut Department of Health, Connecticut Death Index, 1949-2001.  Hartfod, CT]

[City directory for Bristol, Plainville, and Terrville; years 1939, 1948-1949, 1951-1956]

Tombstone Tuesday: Hanora Canty

In Memory of

Hanora

Wife of

Owen Canty

A native of Ireland

Born Mar. 7, 1799.

Died Jan. 11, 1887

May her soul rest in peace.

Amen.

Location:  Frankfort Cemetery, Frankfort, Franklin Co., Kentucky

Photo taken 6 March 2009.

Not having delved too deep into the Canty family history, information on the clan prior to 1880 is thin.  Seven years before her passing, Hanora was living in the small village of Millville, Woodford Co., Kentucky just 7 miles southeast of Frankfort.  Owen, her husband, had already passed and she was living with her sons John (45), Patrick (46), and Owen (41).  Also occupying the homestead was John's wife Hanna (40), their son Owen (8 months), Hanna's father James Brislan (70), and an unknown relation named Ellen Tarpy (68).  The entire household, with the exception of the newly-arrived Owen, had been born in Ireland.