Dark Records

At this time of year an awful lot of thought is given to the macabre; cemeteries, skeletons.

I am going to relay a story, a dark, serious story that many of my relatives would not want me to share. I do, however, feel it is an important family story to retain; a skeleton, if you will. And so here I go airing laundry in this very public medium.

It speaks to the character of my grandfather, Clarence Albert Gardner (a.k.a.: Whitey Gardner), love of family, and deep dysfunction.

To understand this man you need some back story...

My maternal grandmother, Marilyn Irene Fay-Gardner (a.k.a.: Lynne), died on June 5, 1972 at the age of 41 due to cancer of the liver. She left my grandfather a widower at the age of 44 with 6 children. Since I was not born until 1974 some of what I am about to relay is pure conjecture on my part; pieced together from stories I have heard from various relatives and feelings I have picked up on.

I sense my grandfather deeply loved my grandmother as evidenced by the fact that he never remarried. he did have a very close companion, though; Pat. She was a little kooky but the what member of the family isn't?

Grandpa was a warm and loving man in a quiet, unobtrusive way. He was the kind of man who you could go months, even years without speaking to but should you call, when he answered, it would be as if not a day had passed. He was always happy to talk to me and always wanted me to come see him at his home in Florida. Thinking back on it now, I don't know if my grandfather ever called me in his whole life. I am not even sure he knew my birthday...but I had no doubt he loved me and was very, very proud of me. I was the oldest of his 9 grandchildren; and named after my grandma. My full name is April Lynne Earle.

You see, after grandma passed and my mom got married, and my uncle was off on his own, Grandpa Whitey sold his home in Merrick, Long Island, NY and bought a trailer home in West Palm Beach, Florida. He took his four youngest children with him. I believe he wanted to start life anew; I suspect that he wanted to escape the memories of life with Lynne.


In any case, after my parents' divorce and my mother's subsequent remarriage, I would spent my summer vacations in Florida. I would divide my two months there between time with my grandfather and time with my father's sister. It was my opportunity to not only escape my evil step-father but to bond with my distant relatives; mainly grandpa.

He would take me on little excursions; long drives in the truck; museums; zoos; but mainly we played monopoly. Yes, one summer long game of monopoly.

Grandpa did not live in his past. Maybe his heart, maybe his mind carried the pains and scares of days gone by but grandpa lived in the now. He took what those would give him at face value and expected nothing; at least that is how he felt to me. We cherished every moment we spent together.

In the family's shadowy past existed my evil step-father who died many years ago. My mother had two children with that man; children who have not had an easy deal in life. My step-father taught his children to mistreat my mother who deserved nothing but love and respect really. My sister has matured into a warm and loving soul. My brother, who I really do not know at all, was a very troubled child. The treatment my mother received from them as small children, I believe permanently damaged her emotionally, but I digress.

At one point my grandfather, this non-intrusive man, could no longer bear to watch my mother be abused by her son and so grandpa filed a suit to have my brother removed from my mother's home for her own good. Needless to say it caused a huge rift between grandpa and mom and my brother. 

She would hate me for writing this. Grandpa would probably also be ashamed of me for airing such family matters; but I do not care to hide my history. It has shaped how I am today. 

So in among the papers I have gathered about my family history is a document I secured from the State of Florida acknowledging that Clarence A. Gardner made this plea to remove my under-aged brother from my mother's home. He did so because he loved his daughter. In his quite, strong, unassuming way he stood strong by what he believed in. He LOVED his daughter and needed to protect her at any risk; regardless of the results.

Ultimately the suit was dropped. My brother remained with my mom. 

So why save and this story of dysfunction, drama, and disdain?

Because these are the people I come from.

Because last night I had an incredibly intense dream about my grandfather. One of those dreams so vivid you wake up unsure where reality is. Here or there, I know he is with me. Although he may not have been a very present figure in my day-to-day. I know without a doubt he loved me like no on else.  

In the dream he told me share to this. That someone needed to read this. He told me that the advice I sort from a friend was the right friend to seek it from. And that even though the advice I was given did not yield a positive reaction; I did the right thing. He told me to be who I am, just the way that I am, and to love the only way I know how which is  OUT LOUD! Incidentally, not they same way grandpa loved.

And families are messy. I hate when people where their ancestry with snobbery or elitism. Your existence is a badge of honor and it is fine to polish it off, but believe me, I know what kind of crud can accumulate on it.

And not every picture of the past is a sepia-toned pose...but there is beauty in every fucking one.

Thanks, Gramps!

 Grandpa Whitey and I circa 1979.

Grandpa Whitey and I circa 1990

Labeling Family Photos

I love old family photos. I don't even care who's family they depict; something about capturing a moment of familial love sort of warms my heart. Look at those people gathered attempting to document and share what is important to them; love them.. 

The one thing I would really appreciate, though, is that you label your photos. If these people and events mean so much to you, please take the time to leave some written clues on the back of the photo. I say this know fully well that I possess many photographs that are not labeled. In all honesty, my labeled photos far, far outweigh my unlabeled ones; that's the librarian in me!

My great-grandmother, Ethel Mae Losee-Earle, left a wealth of photographs among her possessions when she passed. Over the course of the next few days I plan to share some of my favorites on this blog.

Sadly, most of her photo have no identifying information. She had a small address book sized album that contained about 20 small  2x3" photos. Although she did not identify the people in the pictures, her son and daughter-in-law (my paternal grandparents) were able to help me label some of the images. When doing so it is important to indicate when you're labeling the photo. It is obvious the photos were taken in the 1920s; I made sure to write "labeled by April Earle, 2000" on the back of each photo. In 100 years should some other ancestor have the photo they'll hopefully understand how credible the information on the back of the photo is; I could have easily misidentified people given it was 80 years after the photo was taken. I am only reasonably certain who those people are.

The funny thing is that the only photo great-grandma Ethel labeled was one of her brother, Luman D. Losee, milking a cow and her eldest son, Allen Preston Earle, then about 3 years-old, was holding the milk pail. She didn't tell you her brother's name, no, not at all; she doesn't tell you what year the photo was taken, nope; she only identified the cow as Martha.

Reads: This is a pretty good picture only Martha isn't as thin as this look. Lu.

Allen Preston Earle, Luman D. Losee, Martha "The Cow" Losee.

Photo taken circa 1920. Labeled by April Earle, 2000.

Crossing New York City Streets in the 1920s

I came across a funny little video on YouTube.com called Driving Around New York City - 1928. I love the music, the humor, the reality of the scene.

Sadly, though, it was an automobile that took the life of my great-great grandmother, Sabina Krantzel-Prinz in 1926 on the streets of Manhattan; specifically the intersection of 76th Street and First Avenue on April 24, 1926 at 6:45 a.m.

I learned this detail through obtaining Sabina's death certificate from the New York City Municipal Archives.

What could a 65 year old woman be doing walking across 1st Avenue that early in the morning? Was she on her way to church, perhaps? I never think of my mother's side as especially religious. Could she have been off to work?? I know my great grandfather, James Fay, this woman's son-in-law, owned a laundromat or dry-clearner's store in that general area of Manhattan but who knows.

Can you imagine trying to cross a street like this at a time when they had few if any traffic controls??

Finding my Michael Fay

Anyone who invests themselves in genealogy research comes to learn that there are those ancestors who want to be known and those who just want to be left alone. As a researcher though, one can be a bit thick when it comes to accepting that last truth. For years and years I tried to find my Michael Fay, my great-great grandfather. It was such a long arduous process that I know I can not accurately detail for you all the steps I took to finally find his resting place; but I did, I found it.

I do recall trusting my hunch that he would be found interned in Calvary Cemetery in Woodside, Queens. This hunch was based on the fact that I had found his wife and three of his children interned there; not all in the same plot mind you but in Calvary Cemetery.

This burial location hunch also came with the strong suspicion that Michael died in the great City of New York. Using the German Genealogy Group's New York City Death Index, searching for Michael Fay with no known date of birth (just an approximation taken from census records) and no known date of death resulted in far more many Michael Fays that I wanted to believe existed; 44 to be exact. Michael Fay is not quite the genealogical purgatory of say searching for a John Smith but still it was rough.

After applying what processes of elimination that I could, I narrowed the list of results. I knew he was listed in the 1910 census and that by the 1930 census his wife, Agnes Joyce-Fay, was living with her daughter, listed as a widow. I couldn't find either of them in the 1920 census. That alone reduced the results from the New York City Death Index list down to 10. Then by estimating those Michael Fay's birth years I limited the list further to 6 possibilities.

If you know a name and date of death for an individual interned in Calvary they are happy to provide a plot location over the phone; however, if you don't have a date of death then they charge a great deal to do the research for you. I don't recall the exact fee but it was enough for me to arrive at a different course of action.

Every week I would call Calvary and ask for a plot location for one of the 6 possible Michael Fays. Some weeks they would say, "Sorry, no Michael Fay buried here in that month." To which i would reply thank you and simply cross that man off my list of possibilities. Some weeks I would call and they would give me a plot location; that happened for 3 of those possibilities. On my 6th call, the woman who answered my call with a reply I recognized as a family plot. 

"Yes, Michael Fay who died on January 13, 1915 is buried in Calvary Cemetery, Cemetery #3, Section #17, Range #22, Plot EE, Grave #12."

That was the plot location I had for his two children, Leo Joseph Fay and Anna Fay who both died in 1918 with in days of each other.

The woman on the phone informed me that there were 4 internments in the plot. And so still there is the lingering question as to who the 4th interment is but at least I know great-great grandpa is there...without a headstone but there..........in the unmarked grave directly in front of this headstone erected for my 3rd great grandparents, John and Mary Ann Joyce; Michael Fay's in-laws.

Again, some ancestors would rather be left alone and others, others are begging to be found.

1918 Flu Pandemic: The "Spanish Flu"

I have mention in previous posts that my maternal grandmother, Marilyn Irene Fay-Gardner, passed away before I was born. Thus, most of what I have learned about my Fay line I have found on my own and through the kindness of researching cousins. It was through a distant researching cousin, Mary Anne, that I learned that my great grandfather, James Fay, had two elder siblings who are believed to have been a dance team that preformed on the vaudeville circuit. This great-great uncle, Leo Joseph Fay, and great-great aunt, Anna Fay, are rumored to have contracted the Spanish Flu while touring.

Now I have found nothing to this point to confirm their vaudeville connection but the did both die during the flu pandemic of 1918. Most victims were healthy young adult as opposed to typical influenza outbreak which predominantly affect juvenile, elderly, or sickly individuals. The pandemic lasted from January 1918 to December 1920; and it is estimated to have killed between 20 and 50 million people making it one of the deadliest pandemics in human history.

For those of you Twilight fans, the fictional character Edwin Cullen was dying from the Spanish flu when he was turned into a  vampire; or so I'm told.

Leo Fay passed first on January 27, 1918 at the age of 29; the day before his 30th birthday. His cause of death is listed as "inherited T.B. diathesis, probably." His occupation is listed as laborer. He died at home. 

Anna Fay passed 6 days later on February 5, 1918 at the age of 28; just two days after her birthday. Her cause of death is listed as Pulmonary Tuberculosis. Her occupation is listed as embroiderer. She died at metropolitan Hospital in Manhattan, NY. 

The two are buried side by side in a family plot in Calvary Cemetery in NY.

I tend to believe that these two were obviously close siblings in life and death, regardless of their occupations. And even though their cause of death is not listed as influenza, I would tend to believe that that is what they both actually fell victims to, the Spanish Flu pandemic of 1918, based on the dates on which they died which were early in the epidemic's siege and that lingering word in Leo's cause of death; "probably."

Visiting Sleepy Hollow Cemetery

One of the greatest short stories to be born out of New York is The Legend of Sleepy Hollow written by Washington Irving in 1820; available on Google books [http://books.google.com/books?id=zAl0j_FUTnkC&lpg=PT23&dq=The%20Legend%20of%20Sleep%20Hallow&pg=PP1#v=onepage&q=&f=false]. The story of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow stirs fearful images in the minds of children and adults alike; the ride of the Headless horseman. But the real life Sleep Hollow Cemetery is the resting place for literally thousands of souls that called the area home. Death is scary, cemeteries can be seen as scary or at least sad, but that is not really how I see them...

A few days ago I wrote about the importance of tourism. I believe if you want to be successful in your family history research you must learning about the history of the place in which your ancestors lived. Today I am headed up to Tarrytown, New York where the legendary cemetery is located. My friends and I are off to experience an event known as Blaze; an exhibit of over 5,000 jack-o-lanterns. On the journey, though, we plan to stop at Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. There are literally dozens of famous individuals interned there; http://www.sleepyhollowcemetery.org/about/famous-interments/ and many other ordinary individuals. While there I will look for the grave of my great grandmother's 1st cousin; Frances Klementina Calder.

Frances Calder was born on June 27, 1903 to Edward Calder and Fannie Prinz-Calder and died on August 3, 1904; so sad, she was only 13 months old. She is interned in the children's section of the cemetery; Lone Valley, section 43, row R, grave 15, between plots belonging to Galligher and Griffin. Frances died of colitis in Irvington, NY. The undertaker was C. Vanderbilt; which makes me think of Cornelius Vanderbilt, the wealthy railroad tycoon for whom Vanderbilt University in Tennessee is named for; but trust me, it is not him. Vanderbilt is just a good ole New York Dutch name.

I learned all this information through documents shared by a researching cousin I met via Ancestry.com. Ancestry.com is great for that! When I saved a record from Ancestry there was a note that another Ancestry member had saved the same record. It was through that that Carol and I connected. She shared with me the family tree that she had compiled for my great grandmother's line, the Prinz Family and in turn, I shared with her what I had gathered about the same line.

I knew my great grandmother, Mary Prince-Fay; that is to say that I met her once or twice when I was a small child. Mary was born October 15, 1893 in New York, New York and died on July 17, 1983 in Florida at the age of 89; I was 9 at the time of her death. Mary would have been 10 at the time her infant cousin, Frances, died. I am not sure if she would have attended the burial of this child but I am sure she would have known about the child's passing.

As morbid as it may sound, I like to visit the graves of those ancestors of mine that do not have direct descendants; those that did not have children of their own. Often these people were children themselves. I like to go because I feel that through the generations these people tend to be forgotten. Yet, I know that the death, the loss of a child, greatly impacts a family.

...I see cemeteries as the permanent residences of lives gone by. I'm simply going to visit a relative...to remind her she was loved.

Naturalization Papers Surprise!

For the last few days I have been writing about my mother's paternal line, the Desjardins/Gardner Family of Montreal, Quebec, Canada / Astoria, Queens County, New York / Patchogue, Long Island, New York.

On my father's line, a lot of my research was handed to me by various researching cousins. Oh, don't worry, I verify everything that is given to me with documentation and my own research. My mother's line, though, I have done almost all my discoveries on my own. No one has really taken me by the hand and pointed me in the right direction or handed me family trees until very recently. It is only within the last 3 years or so that I have found other researching cousins on my mother's side. Everything up until my 3rd great grandparents I found with very little help or guidance. I had just a few notes to work with from Grandpa Gardner and that was all. Unfortunately, Grandma Gardner passed away before I was born. To reach my 4th, 5th, 6th, and further generations of great grandparents, I did have to connect with researching cousins; they are the greatest resource I have! But at least in the case of Malvina Ethier-Desjardins, my great-great grandmother, everything I know I learned on my own.

The greatest document I have about her life her naturalization papers. For years and years I scoured the various New York District Court Records - - found nothing! And then I learned that Suffolk County's Naturalization Index was available online: Suffolk County Naturalization through the Italian Genealogy Group. Suffolk County is Long Island, New York's eastern most county and the one in which Patchogue is situated. That is where Malvina lived for the latter part of her life. And sure enough, that is where I found her naturalization papers.

It resolved one big mystery; Malvina did not arrive through Ellis Island, like so many newcomers to New York, Malvina came from Montreal via RAILROAD! Her port of immigration was Grand Central Station! Not only does the document reveal this, it list her date of birth, her address, her date of arrival in the U.S., and all of her natural-born U.S. citizen children's dates of birth and residencies, the document includes a photo. A photo! I had never seen a photo of any of my grandfather's relatives - none. And here on these documents from 1938 was a picture of my great-great grandma. 
 

Doesn't she look a lot like my grandpa?
They are each about 75 years old in these photos.

 

 Malvina Ethier-Desjardins circa 1938

Her grandson, my grandfather, Clarence Albert Gardner, circa 2003