Sentimental Sunday: Easter and Eating Eggs

Coloring hard boiled eggs is a well established tradition for Easter, but what about eating lots of eggs at Easter.  I found a curious reference to eating eggs at Easter on a post card sent to my great-grandmother Mary (Walker) Reese in April 1909.  The sender (whose identity is not clear) asks Mary, "how many eggs are you going to eat on Sunday," presumably a reference to Easter. Then the sender states, "I am going to eat for [sic] or fiv [sic], dozen I mean"  I found that to be an odd reference, so I turned to the internet for answers.  The Wikipedia page for Easter Eggs points out that there is an old tradition of not eating eggs or dairy during Lent.  But because hens don't stop laying eggs during Lent, a larger number of eggs would be available by Easter if the eggs had not been allowed to hatch. So after 40 days without eating eggs and an excess store of eggs, eating a ridiculous number of eggs would be in order--although I don't think eating four or five dozen in one day would be advisable for anyone!

Easter Greetings--Eat some Eggs!

A Tribute to the "Genealogy Ladies"

I spent the last week redesigning both my website and my blog hoping to find the inspiration to restart my effort to tell my family's story not only through my website but with this blog.  It seems only fitting that I dedicate this effort to those who helped me along the way, those who I fondly call the "Genealogy Ladies." This group of women took the time to spark my interest, to endure my pestering questions, and to provide help and guidance along the way. 

The first Genealogy Lady was not really a genealogist but my Aunt Helen (Melat) Steffee who I credit with igniting that genealogy spark within me.  I don't remember the specific date, but I must have been about 11 or 12 years old--which would be around 1976.  During one of her visits to my Grandmother Melat's house, Aunt Helen began recounting this story about our family being connected to William Mallet who was with William the Conqueror when he invaded England in 1066.  She talked about a castle that belonged to William Mallett located along the English coast, crumbling into the ocean. I was hooked! (Of course I would eventually figure out that William Mallet and the castle had absolutely no connection to my family. For the record, Aunt Helen was only recounting what she had been told by cousin and family historian Benava (Melat) McAneny.  Speaking of Benava, it is a good time to give credit to her and another cousin Mabel (Melat) Manson for their efforts in gathering information on the Melat family decades before I started.  Their work provided a solid foundation for all the research I would do on this family--except, of course, for the story about William Mallet and the castle.)

With the spark ignited, I began talking with family members, particularly my grandmothers Kathryn (Hoffman) Melat and Ethel (Redmond) Reese, about what they knew about the family.  They endured my pesky questions with a lot of grace, even though most were not the least bit interested--in fact both had family stories they would rather not talk about (subjects for future posts).  Since my effort began before I could drive myself I had to rely heavily on the generosity of  my mother to take me to visit family, cemeteries, libraries, and courthouses.  (I should also take this opportunity to offer an apology to her for my relentless pursuit of genealogy--I am sure there were times when she took me to my destination just so I would stop asking!)

Oil City Library, Oil City, PA

After I had exhausted the knowledge from my family members, I needed help to figure out what to do next (remember this was long before the internet...). With the notes I had taken and other family paraphernalia that I had gathered packed neatly in an 8½ X 11 inch box, my mom dropped me off at the Oil City Library where I was told I could find the help I needed.  I ventured into a stark white room in the basement that had a couple bookshelves filled with old books along one wall and a long folding table at the opposite end.  At the table were three women: Jean Stormer, who was pouring over a bound volume of old copies of the local newspaper, abstracting anything that she deemed to have genealogical value; Margaret Ward, her sister and certainly the most intimidating of the three, sitting with her arms crossed, talking to the third woman; and Alice Morrison, a school teacher by day and professional genealogist on the weekends and during the summer.  I can't imagine what those three must have thought when this 13-year-old boy walked into that room with a box full of random notes and equally random, incoherent questions. But they answered all of my questions and introduced me to microfilm which opened up the world of old newspapers and census. On subsequent visits to the Oil City Library I met Barb Harvey, a local history enthusiast, who kept things running at the Venango County Genealogy Club for years.  I would also find my way to the second floor of the Franklin Library where I would meet an equally helpful and influential Genealogy Lady Helen Ray.  I spent endless hours, mostly on Saturday afternoons, at these two libraries being tutored by these five women in the proper ways of genealogical research for which I am forever grateful.

Franklin Library, Franklin, PA

There were countless others who would influence me over the years.  Those who quickly come to mind are: Helen (Campbell) Snyder, a kindergarten teacher, family historian and distant cousin, taught me how to tell a story; cousin Mary Sanford taught me to be truly excited by our family history; Joyce Neidich, another professional genealogist (a distant cousin by marriage), showed me additional intricacies of courthouse research (and only charged me the family rate); Karen Golden Rodgers, a family historian peer of mine (another distant cousin), showed me a passion for local history as a backdrop for the family history; and Sylvia Coast, who works in the Pennsylvania Room at the Franklin Library (with no known family connection to me), has always been extremely helpful when I go back after years of being away and don't know where anything is anymore, which is very much appreciated--and most important, being a familiar face after all these years. Oh and I can't forget Jennie Brandon and Sue Buchan, the Registrars at the courthouse (both cousins), for providing a friendly atmosphere for researchers--even when that researcher was a teenage boy!

Venango County Courthouse, Franklin, PA

I can't end this post before I make special mention of Alice Morrison, the single biggest influence on my development as a family historian (of course, a distant cousin of mine).  For a professional genealogist, time is money, but she never charged me a penny for all the help she gave me.  She never did any research for me, but she taught me and guided me to do my own research.  Mrs. Morrison was a very unique individual to say the least.  When she had raised her children and retired from teaching she left behind the comforts of home and family to live in very primitive circumstances in the woods outside of Titusville, Pennsylvania where she pursued her real passion which was for the outdoors, hiking, birdwatching, and studying the local flora and fauna. She had no telephone (nor electricity I believe), which meant that I could only get in touch with her when she happened to be in her office she kept in an office building in Titusville.  But when she was there she continued to make time to mentor me.  She taught me the ropes of doing research at the courthouse--skills I could use in any courthouse in Pennsylvania.  She showed me the importance of keeping track of my sources, documenting everything, a routine that would serve me well as I gathered more and more information.

It would be disingenuous of me not to mention that there were also "Genealogy Guys" who helped me along the way: Dennis Armstrong, a fellow family and local historian, taught me the importance of knowing the local history; Bill Poulter, a fellow researcher who volunteered with me on Saturdays in the Heritage Room at the Oil City Library; and Gary Edwards who has been a faithful volunteer at the Heritage Room over the years.

I will remember Mrs. Morrison and all of the Genealogy Ladies (and the Genealogy Guys) fondly and with great respect.  They all took the time to help, engage, mentor, and respect me despite my age.  And to that end I dedicate the Speaking of Family website and blog to all of them.

Fearless Females: With Love, Carol Ann

Several weeks ago my family said good-bye to my cousin Carol Ann Reed Dryden after a courageous battle with cancer.  Carol Ann died on 7 March 2013 at her home along the North Fork of the Shenandoah River in Edinburg, Virginia.

Carol Ann was born on 19 February 1941 in Oil City, Venango County, Pennsylvania, the daughter of Wayne Amer and Ruth Phyllis (Hoffman) Reed.  She lived with her parents in Aunt Lucy (Hoffman) Ray's house on Charleton Street in the Clapp Farm neighborhood of Oil City.  When the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941, the United States was at war and like all able-bodied men of fighting age, Carol Ann's father soon found himself in the South Pacific, a Marine Private First-class fighting the Japanese.  Wayne was killed in action on Okinawa, Japan during the final days of the war on 15 May 1945. He left behind his widow Ruth and two children Carol Ann and Wayne II.

When Wayne left for the war, Ruth and her children moved across the street into her childhood home at 144 Charleton Street to live with her recently widowed mother Effie (Sanner) Hoffman.  There Ruth would raise her children and spend the rest of her life.  Carol Ann and her brother Wayne attended Clapp Farm Grade School and graduated from Oil City High School.  Carol Ann was a Girl Scout, a majorette in the marching band, and like many young women of her generation was an avid fan of Elvis Presley--an passion she would keep all of her life.

Carol Ann married Leon Caldwell after high school and along with their two children Lee and Alecia, lived in Rouseville, in the last house on the left on Main Street (Route 8) as you driving north.  Between the years 1969 and 1970, they spent the weekends helping my grandparents, Leonard and Kathryn Melat, at Indian Valley Campground which was located along the Allegheny River above Tionesta, Forest County, Pennsylvania.

Carol Ann and Leon divorced in the mid-1970s but with Carol Ann's determination she established a new and successful life for her and her children.  In 1977, Carol Ann, Lee and Alecia moved to Virginia where she worked for Automotive Industries Corporation in Strasburg. She eventually moved into a management position and retired from Lear Seating Corporation in Detroit, Michigan in 1997. Through her work she met a Ford Company employee Mike Dryden who she married on 17 August 1991 in Toms Brook, Virginia.  After their retirement, they moved into the house on the banks of the Shenandoah in Edinburg where Carol Ann spent the rest of her life.

There are many fond memories of times spent with Carol Ann. She had a great smile and laugh that I will always hear in my mind when I think of her.  She had a way of telling a story, especially family stories.  I loved to listen to her recount her memories of our family.  Carol Ann's favorite color was purple which manifested itself not only in the clothes and jewelry she wore but also in an collection of purple cow--from collectable figurines to slippers (and I can't forget to mention the collection of Elvis paraphernalia). 

Any recounting of Carol Ann's life would be incomplete without a mention of knitting and crocheting.  My grandmother Kathryn (Hoffman) Melat taught Carol Ann how to knit and crochet; skills she perfected over the years and her family is undoubtedly left with what are now precious heirloom afghans! She built an important circle of friends through her knitting club in Virginia.

In the end Carol Ann's legacy is how much she cherished her family.  Whether it was her own children and grandchildren, her brother and his family, her sister Cordie, or her cousins, like myself, she kept them close to her heart.  Our family is much more vibrant for Carol Ann being a part of it. 

As she signed the graduation picture that she gave to my grandparents,

With Love, Carol Ann

The Quest for Al's Birth Parents

As his daughters grew older, Al began to grow concerned that he did not know his birth family and where they might be living.  He set out to find the truth about his birth parents in the 1930s. I do not know how much he knew when he started this quest, but he eventually found his maternal grandfather still living in New Castle, Pennsylvania. But his mother had died just a short time before he found his grandfather. As for his father, according to Ethel, Hazel, and Lois, Al did not find out who he was. However, there is no doubt in my mind that his grandfather whom he visited with several times knew the identity of Al’s father.

Al also learned that the circumstances of his birth.  Al's birth mother was a young, unmarried girl who was "taken advantage of" by the man who likely lived next door. I will refrain from passing judgement on what "taken advantage of" means here since all parties are long since gone and cannot speak for themselves and there is no record of what happened.  That said, there are other records relative to the lives of Al's birth parents that can help paint a picture of these two people and their character.

Al learned that his mother was Catherine Biddle, the daughter of John Wesley Biddle, who was living in New Castle. Al developed a relationship with his newly found grandfather and got to know several of his Biddle uncles, aunts, and cousins. I will come back to Biddle family in a future post, but for now will focus on Catherine.

Catherine Biddle was born in New Castle in September 1879, the daughter of John Wesley Biddle and Mary Virgilia Lloyd. Catherine was 17 years old when Al was born. In about 1908, Catherine married James Pemberton who was a laborer in the tin can factory in New Castle which was where Catherine’s father also worked. Catherine worked as a bookkeeper at the same factory. Catherine and James lived with her parents in New Castle’s 5th Ward. By 1930, Catherine and James had moved to Youngstown, Ohio where James worked as a laborer in street construction. Catherine died in Youngstown on 8 April 1934, at the age of 54. She had no other children.
All that Al passed on to his daughters concerning his father was that his name was Gardner which was not much to go on. There were several Gardners living in New Castle around 1897 who could have been Al’s father, so positively identifying him is nearly impossible. However, extremely strong circumstantial evidence leads me to believe that Al’s father was Victor Marcellus Gardner. The evidence is very simple but compelling. Victor and his family were the very next door neighbors of the Biddles at the time Al was born. Victor’s sons were too young to have been Al’s father, but a look into Victor’s life also strengthens the likelihood.

Victor Marcellus Gardner was born on 5 July 1864 in Butler County, Pennsylvania, son of William M. Gardner and Euphemia Jane (Effie Jane) Ralston. Victor, a Catholic, married Amanda Ott, a Protestant, in 1884. Victor and Amanda had 7 children who were raised Catholic. Victor was a carpenter by trade. He died of typhoid fever in 1907 at the age of 42 in New Castle.

So those are the facts of Victor’s life, but fortunately we can know more about the character of Victor from a couple sources. From court reporting in the New Castle newspapers we learn that Victor was arrested in 1902 for non-support of his family and in 1906 was in jail again for abandonment and non-support. There are also a number of newspaper accounts of violent fights between members of the Gardner family and with neighbors—involving Victor’s mother (again a subject for a future post)! From a grandson with whom I have been in contact, we learn that Victor was a chronic alcoholic. According to grandson George Gardner, Victor “was also a kind, hard worker, and sentimentalist who loved his wife and children, even though he made their lives difficult by his drinking.”

Of course George Gardner knew nothing of Al Redmond until I contacted him, but he was not surprised. He believes as I do that Al was Victor’s son. Unfortunately since the DNA trail is passed from father to son and Al had no sons, unless someone has a lock of Al’s hair or some other bit of his DNA, there are no DNA tests can prove the connection beyond question. Based on what Al passed on to his daughters and the evidence above, I think that we can say that it is likely that Al was Victor’s son.

It is true neither Victor Gardner or Catherine Biddle played a role in the upbringing of Al Redmond, but beyond the circumstances of Al’s birth and Victor Gardner’s flaws and despicable actions, there are two colorful families that are branches of our family tree. We cannot ignore that Al likely had seven half-brother and sisters and a large number of nieces and nephews.  There are a number of interesting stories from both Victor and Catherine's families that will come in future posts.

Terry and the Pirates

Well of course today is Terry's birthday.  I hope it is a great one!  The note on the back of this photo says that it captured the very day you took your first steps--at 11 months!

Named Terry Albert--of course Albert after Grandpa Redmond, but I have always heard tell that the name Terry came from Terry and the Pirates which was a very popular comic strip from the 30s-50s.  It was also a radio program and much later a television program.  Since I didn't find the comic strip in the Derrick at the time Terry was born, it is my guess that Bob and Ethel got the name from the radio program.  I did some looking into the story line of Terry and the Pirates and was very interested to find out just how popular it was and it is now considered the first of the many action-adventure comics that would follow over the years.  The basic story is of an American boy named Terry who goes to China with a journalist named Pat Ryan in search of a lost gold mine.  They meet a number of interesting and sometimes questionable characters that develop into endless exploits.  During the second world war the characters, especially the Chinese characters, take on increasingly evil personnas.  The term "Dragon Lady" to describe a ruthless woman in today's society came from the name of one of the enduring, evil characters in the Terry and the Pirates story line. 

Take a look at the strip below.  What popular cartoon would you guess was greatly influenced by Terry and the Pirates?

Happy Birthday Uncle Terry!

Remembering Aunt Hazel

I remember always being excited that Aunt Hazel was coming home for a visit.  I can't really put a finger on any specific reason, but she held a special place in my heart.  She was my grandmother's sister, yet so different, and maybe that was what was so intriguing about her.  I remember a vacation I took to Florida in March 1989.  Grandpa and Muriel were also down there at the time and the three of us went to visit Aunt Hazel and Uncle Paul for the day.  We had a very nice time, ate lunch, sat by the pool, and Aunt Hazel made me an Old-fashioned, which is basically whiskey with a slice of orange.  It was a good day!  The picture from that day is of Aunt Hazel, Uncle Paul, and their dog with this incredible poinsettia growing in front of their house. 

I don't have any whiskey in the house to make an Old-fashioned, but I have poured a glass of wine to raise in memory of Aunt Hazel in honor of her birthday, March 13th.  Happy Birthday Aunt Hazel!

Raising Robert

I was born at 11 A.M. on February 17, 1916 on Oil City's Southside. I was given the name Robert Norman Reese. I was named after my two uncles; one was my great-uncle Robert Reese, a Civil War veteran who died ten year before I was born; my middle name came from my mother's brother Norman Walker who was said to have been kicked in the head by a horse [I think that he was actually born with something like Down syndrome]. My father was Edward Aaron Reese, a tailor by trade, and hard-working, but like his father Samuel, Eddie, as he was called, was always looking for a quick path to wealth. My mother was Mary Elizabeth Walker from Cochranton, Pennsylvania. She was 4 years older than my father and 40 years old when I was born. 

I lived with my parents at 201 East Front Street, in Southside Oil City. This was located roughly were the Riverside grocery story and Southside Post Office are now located on the four-lanes today. Next door lived my Grandpa and Grandmother Reese, my widowed Aunt Minnie Hookins, and her two children, my older cousins, Arthur and Lucille. This was a wonderful place to grow up, surrounded by family and a close knit neighborhood. Mrs. Dale lived on one side and next door to her was Mrs. McCollum, aunt of my lifelong friend Leroy Blair.

I was an only child and was undoubtedly doted on by my family. Grandmother Reese saw my first smile when I was 1 week old. Mother discovered my first tooth when I was 22 weeks. And my first word was papa. I got my first hair cut in August 1917 at the barber shop--I sat very still. I could count to 10 before I was 2 years old--Mother was so proud.

Birthdays were family affairs. On my first birthday, my Grandmother Walker was visiting from Cochranton. We had cake and father gave me a "kiddie kar" and I got stockings from Uncle John Walker. On my second birthday, Uncle John Walker got me 2 pair of stockings; from Aunt Bessie, Uncle John's wife, a silver spoon; Harry Reese Jr. gave me a toy and his brother Gerald gave me a handkerchief. Grandpa Reese gave me 5 cents for my bank and Daddy and Mother gave me a rocking chair and new shoes. On my 4th birthday in 1920, we had a chicken dinner with cake. Grandpa and Grandmother Reese, Grandmother Reese's sister Aunt Sarah Smith, and Uncle John Walker were there. Daddy gave me a bowling alley and from Mother 2 pair of stockings. Uncle John gave me $1 (guess he figured I had enough stockings); Grandpa Reese gave me another 5 cents for my bank; cousins Gerald and Harry Jr. gave me 4 pennies, 2 handkerchiefs and a card; cousin Lucille gave me a little cake; and Grandma Reese and Aunt Sarah gave me cards.

My father operated a tailor shop and a dry cleaning service, first out of our house, but later from a shop down Front Street closer to the State Street Bridge. He provided for mother and me very well. On a sunny day in June 1923 when I was 7 years old, my father was sitting on the front porch when he had an aneurysm and died. It would be years before I realized fully how that changed things, especially for my mother. This happened before social security, before insurance, and other programs that are now in place to take care of widows and orphans who lost their sole source of income. 

Widowed at the age of 47 with a young son and no income meant that mother had to find a way to support us. Besides income she received from renting the garages in the alley behind out house, mother earned money making pies, dressings (sauces such as ketchup), and mayonnaise for Cribbs Grocery store on the Southside. At first, mother would make all of the pies and dressing in our kitchen and a delivery boy would take them to Cribbs. Later she worked in the kitchen at the grocery. Remember that this was in the early days of modern conveniences. Refrigeration was still being developed and preservatives that are in food today to prolong shelf life did not exist. That meant that mother would work everyday to supply the grocery store with the fresh pies and dressings for its customers. Mother worked hard and all of our needs were met. Even during the Great Depression of the early 1930s, we managed better than most because the wealthy families from Oil City's West End still wanted fresh pies and dressings for their tables.

As a boy, I remember the trains pulling endless lines of oil tankers, coal cars, and flatcars loaded with timber which would pass in front of our house on the tracks across the street. My mother would complain about the soot that was left behind by the steam locomotives. She would have to sweep the front porch after each train passed to keep it from being tracked into the house. From the train station across the river, we would take the train to visit my mother's family in Cochranton. During the summer 1927, I took the train to Cochranton to stay with Mother's family on the farm outside Cochranton. That was with Mother's brother's Uncle Will and Uncle Wilson and their family. That was a big deal for this 11-year-old city kid and my first time away from my Mother. Uncle Will and Uncle Wilson raised draft horses--the biggest animals I had ever seen. 

I attended elementary school in the Central Avenue School which was an imposing stone structure on Central Avenue where the firehouse now stands. This was the school that John Dewey, Father of Modern Education, kicked off his teaching career. The school was several blocks away and uphill in the morning. I attended the South Side Junior High before going to the Senior High school on the north side. Crossing the bridge and walking up the hill to the senior high during the winter or rainy weather was miserable. I was well behaved and had perfect attendance in 1926, 1928, 1930, and 1931. The most days I missed were in March 1922 when I was in First Grade. I got the chickenpox and was quarantined for 16 days, missing 10 days of school. Book wise, I was just an ok student, and struggled through junior high. I excelled at what was called industrial or manual arts and I was very good at fine art. I was especially good at drawing and my favorite subjects to draw were cowboys.  

Mother and I attended the Grace Methodist Church, just a short walk up to the corner of Central Avenue and West First Street. Mother was a praying mother who made sure I knew the importance of living a good clean life. But she also knew that without a father, I still needed a male influence in my life. A Godly man [I can't recall his name] from the church stepped in to take on that role. He made sure that I was involved in activities that would help me learn a sense of duty and hard work. I also developed a strong group of friends from my neighborhood where our favorite past times were playing marbles or stick ball in the alley behind our houses.

I was a very active member of the Sea Scouts which was an offshoot of the Boy Scouts--but with cooler uniforms! I was on the crew of the good ship "Crusher," local Sea Scout Troop 3 from the Grace Church. I was an active member of the Sea Scouts until I graduated from high school. 

I helped mother around the house and helped with her work at Cribbs which allowed her to get done early. After I learned to drive, I also earned money driving for women from Oil City. I would take them to town to help with shopping, take them to visit relatives and friends in other towns like Titusville or Mercer. The longest drive I made was in 1936 when I took Miss Phillips and Mrs. Lee of Oil City on a two week driving tour to Bangor, Maine.

I graduated from High School in 1935. I was glad to be done with school. In fact, my yearbook says “Bob is mostly an outdoor man who has little use for school or other commonplace activities.” I did not really have a plan for what to do after I graduated, but I liked to work with my hands and solve problems so I toyed with the idea of going to engineering school and even took a few engineering and chemical correspondence courses. But I lost interest in that. I would rather spend my time racing my new Harley Davidson motorcycle and finding the girl of my dreams—and that is just what I did. But that story is for another time…