All Or Nothing

What are little girls made of?

Sugar and spice,

And everything nice,

That's what little girls are made of.

~Unknown

"Whoa."

While looking through the Bethany section, once called the Garden of Gethsemani, in Forest Park Lawndale Cemetery in Houston, Texas yesterday for my great-grandfather, Claude Roy Truitt, I [surprise, surprise] found a tombstone. Actually I found a bunch of them. However, this particular tombstone caught my attention because it was located under a big Oak tree whose roots were pushing the tombstone up and out of the ground. I quickly read it to see if it was my great-grandfather's. It read, "Mary Ellen Riley, Pennsylvania, Nurse Army Nurse Corps..." "Nope," I thought, "definitely not him, " and continued onward to the next tombstone. Then I thought, "Whoa," and retraced my steps all the while mentally doing a family story happy dance. Why? Because, silly, it would've been kinda crazy to actually do a happy dance in the cemetery. Right? Right?

With Valentine's Day around the corner, I thought I'd share two women's stories with you. Two family stories full of "heart." [What do you mean you didn't know that Valentine's Day was around the corner? Have you been to any store since Christmas? How could you have missed St. Valentine? He's everywhere.]

With All My Heart

Ancient Greeks and Egyptians believed all emotion came from the heart. After all, when someone is happy, excited, etc., the heart rate increases. Makes sense. However, with modern day advances, we now know that the heart is told by the brain to speed up or slow down based on how the brain interprets certain stimuli. Although this may be true, it still hasn't stopped poets, writers, and songwriters from lamenting broken hearts, praising courageous hearts, describing hearts bursting with love, and the like.

The heart is a cardiac muscle that pumps blood throughout the body. Unlike other muscles, the heart is considered an "all or nothing" muscle, meaning when it contracts, it does so at full force, or not at all. Here are some common facts about this fascinating muscle:

• The heart beats approximately 100,000 times per day;
• The heart pumps 2000 gallons of blood per day;
• The heart pumps nearly 5 quarts of blood through the body every 60 seconds;
• The human heart ways less than a pound;
• For humans, the normal pulse is 70 heartbeats per minute;
• In an average lifetime, a heart pumps about 1 million barrels of blood [enough to fill 3 super tankers];
• A woman's heart beats faster than a man's heart; and
• During a 70-year lifetime, the heart beats about 3 billion times.

Mary Ellen (Coleman) Riley [Yes, another "Mary" ~ *rolling eyes heavenward*]

Mary Ellen Coleman was born to Peter Coleman [an Irish immigrant] and Anne Brown [a British immigrant of Irish descent] 31 Oct 1886 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and was one of twelve children. While her younger brother, Vincent Leo Coleman, filled out his World War I Registration Draft Card on 5 Jun 1917, Mary Ellen had already set her sights on doing what she could for the Great War's effort.

The Army Nurse Corps was a non-commissioned group of female nurses, and along with other medical personnel [both male and female], they performed their duties courageously both on the homefront and overseas. The United States government, and most especially, the War Department was not exactly thrilled to allow women in the military. However, it became a "numbers game." They didn't have enough soldiers for combat so they relented. The Army never did officially make these nurses a part of the military until World War II, but the United States Navy did make their nurses official in World War I mostly due to some ambiguous language in their rules. [Hard to believe, I know. An ambiguous beauracracy?]

The United States didn't enter World War I until April 1917, but the United States had already been sending nurses to various places around the world, as well as them going on their own where needed. After entering the war, the first groups of Army Nurse Corp nurses were sent to England then on to France to aid the British Expeditionary Forces [BEF] at the end of April and at the beginning of May in 1917. These ladies set up camp before American soldiers ever arrived there.

Since Mary Ellen's passport [digital copy obtained from Ancestry.com] wasn't issued until August of 1917, she probably wasn't sent over until October of 1917 to serve with the American Expeditionary Forces [AEF] in France. This would've given her base [general] hospital time to get organized, to practice working together, and to acclimate to the idea of being away from family. All of this occurring on [according to her passport] Ellis Island in New York with orders for her base (general) hospital unit #21 [organized by the Red Cross] to be ready to set sail for England and France with the Army Nurse Corps.

Not many of these nurses saw combat, but they certainly saw the effects of combat in their field hospitals, mobile units, etc. Most certainly, they dealt with bullet wounds, shrapnel wounds, and the horrific effects of mustard gas. More often than not, I would imagine, offering comfort to a dying soldier. The nurses, themselves, dealt with exposure to mustard gas. Some of them even dying from it. In addition, these nurses also dealt with the great flu epidemic in 1918-1919, giving up many lives to it.

Mary Ellen lived with her parents in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in 1920, but then I found her in 1930 living with a slew of women in Manhattan, New York, all of them nurses. According to her death certificate that I found on FamilySearch.org Record Search, when Mary Ellen died in 1954 in Harris County, Texas of heart failure, she had been a widow, obviously marrying a man with the surname "Riley". The informant on her death certificate was "Blanche Coleman" [possibly a niece?]. I'm not sure whether she had any children or not. However, I am sure that even though I've only "known" Mary Ellen (Coleman) Riley for less than 24 hours and have only done some preliminary research on her, I am quite "wowed" by her story. I can't imagine what courage it took to follow her heart, to become a nurse, to become a part of the Army Nurse Corps, and to be a nurse in France during World War I. She defied all social conventions of her time for women, and did it all for a country that didn't allow women to vote until 1920.

Anne Josephine (Truitt) Etie [No, she wasn't a "Mary," but her sister was...]

Mary Ellen (Coleman) Riley and women like her paved the way for women in the military by the time World War II rolled around. She paved the way for my Gran's sister, Anne Josephine (Truitt) Etie. My Aunt Anne [part of my long line of managing women that I descend from] was a nurse in the United States Navy in World War II. She was one of the very few women who drove an ambulance in France during the war. I cannot fathom the horrors she saw, nor can I fathom the courage she had to risk "life and limb" driving an ambulance in France while trying to save the lives and limbs of soldiers.

The last time I saw my Aunt Anne [actually my Great Aunt Anne, but we just called her Aunt Anne...], she was in a nursing home with her older sister, my Gran, in San Antonio, Texas. She passed away at the age of 85 in 1995 from heart-related causes, and she and her husband, Roney Joseph Etie, are buried in Houston National Cemetery. Whether on purpose or not, she and Joseph never had any children. Because of this, her story is left in the hands of her sister's and brother's descendants.

It's hard for me to reconcile in my head the image of that little old lady in the nursing home talking and laughing with her older sister with all that I've read about what she did for her country in World War II. Like Mary Ellen, Aunt Anne "bucked the system". She, too, defied the social conventions for women of her time by courageously following her heart.

Because of Aunt Anne's story, I've done a little reading on women in the military of both World Wars, which is why Mary Ellen (Coleman) Riley's tombstone caught my attention. While reading about these women, I had thought to myself, "Wow. Wouldn't it be amazing to 'know' one of these women who served in World War I like my Aunt Anne served in World War II?" Yes, it's a bit greedy of me, I know. There are a few books about these wonderfully courageous women, but at the time, I didn't think I'd be running across one in my research. Boy [or maybe I should say "Girl"], I thought wrong.

All Or Nothing

These women of World War I and World War II displayed incredible courage when they did for their country what their country wasn't ready for them to do, but it certainly needed them to do it. At the end, one could certainly say Mary Ellen's and Aunt Anne's hearts physically gave out with the advancement of their ages.

But maybe there's some truth, after all, to what the ancients thought about the human heart and to what poets, writers, and songwriters have written about the human heart throughout the ages. For the courage of these women, like their hearts, was all or nothing.

Courage, sacrifice, determination, 

    commitment, toughness, heart, talent, guts. 

That's what little girls are made of;

The hell with sugar and spice.

~Unknown

[ http://home.att.net/~quotations/courage.html ]

Are Your Ancestors in a Box?

Your Ancestors Really Don't Want to Live in a Box!
Do you have a box of old photographs on the top shelf of your closet that you inherited?  Have you had the time to go through them?  Or maybe you have "sifted" through them, but you don't  have any idea what "to do" with them?  Maybe you know they're your family, but you don't know who they are.  Well, what are you waiting for?  Roll up your sleeves, get the box down, and blow off the dust.  Your family story is in that box for goodness sakes!  Is this how you want your descendants to handle your family story?  Do you want to be just an unidentified photo in a box on the top shelf of one of your descendant's closets?  I didn't think so.  So liberate your ancestors from that box!


Something Shady Can Be Helpful
Old photos ~ even unidentified ~ are a great resource for finding your family story, and lucky for you, I know of an informative and beautiful tool to get you started on this journey of finding your family story.  This past Friday, the footnoteMaven's Shades of the Departed e-magazine debuted.  Formerly in blog format, the monthly e-magazine can be read online or downloaded in PDF format for your reading pleasure.  And I really do mean "pleasure" ~ it's absolutely beautiful with motivating and informative articles to help you with your family story.  Oh, and guess what?  You don't have to know how to spell genealogy to read it...you'll probably learn how to spell it, though.  [If you want...]  The whole point is to get you interested in finding, preserving, and sharing your family story, especially through old photographs.  After all, everyone has a family story, right?



Confessions
Now, I do have to confess that the footnoteMaven graciously extended an invitation to me to be a columnist in Shades of the Departed.  I feel very grateful for this opportunity!  Thank you, fM.  So, without further ado, click on the image below for Shades of the Departed...

He Had Me at "Detective"

So What's Your Magical Number?
I was officially employed at the age of eight.  I mean, really employed ~ not "pick-up your clothes, make your bed, brush your teeth, and here's your 2 bucks", but an honest-to-God job.  Considering child labor laws, how was this possible, you ask?  Well, when you work for your parents, they don't apply.  My dad had a kind of all-around truck and trailer business ~ the eighteen-wheeler kind.  No, he wasn't a truck driver, nor did he own a trucking company [which I get that a lot], but he had a mechanic's shop that did, well, what a mechanic's shop does.  In addition, he had a paint and body shop, a frame machine that could bend a trailer's frame back into position after a wreck, sold truck & trailer parts, sold new and used trailers, and sold used heavy-duty trucks.  Like I said, it was an all-around truck and trailer business that, in it's heyday, did very well.  I guess eight was the magical number that my dad decided was the perfect age to bring his little girl into the family biz, so to speak.  So, what was my job title?  I was the official "heavy-duty truck and trailer parts inventory clerk" [and "do whatever else your dad and your older brother tell you to do"].  In other words, my job every summer was to count big, greasy, and sometimes unidentifiable parts.  Most of the parts were identified with parts numbers and other important data that I was to mark down along with the count.   The ones that weren't labeled, I was supposed to mark with a round neon-colored sticker for someone else to problem-solve.  I even had my own official clipboard.  I started out at 10 bucks a week, and that was my magical number to get the job done.

Green-Screened IBM Monsters
Each summer my dad added a little more to my duties [of course], but he upped my pay as well.  By this time, though, I was working for my mom at her pet shop [a story for another time], but I was given "time off" to help dad with inventory.  After I would complete a particular section I was taught to enter the data into the computer [remember those old green-screened IBM monsters?].  When I came upon an item that didn't have a part number, instead of leaving it for someone else to solve, my dad showed me how to figure out the manufacturer, look it up by picture in the gazillion catalogs he had, and obtain the information to enter into the computer.  [O.K., can I just pause and say that, just now, all that was easier to explain and type than to do?]  When my dad first explained it to me, he said, "Caroline, it's like you're a detective and you're trying to solve a mystery.  Keep looking.  You can find it.  Solve the mystery."  Well being an avid Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden fan [which he very well knew], he had me at, "detective".

The Irony
I find it ironic now that the man who taught to me how to problem solve [and so many other things] was the same man who asked me in high school to "do" our family tree and is the same man whose family has 5 related unsolved murders that, to the best of my knowledge, he thought were deaths ~ not murders.  While growing up, I had heard several times from my mom that my Paw Paw's [my dad's mom's] brother had been killed in a house fire trying to save his four children.  Then, when I interviewed my Paw Paw for my family tree project my senior year in high school, I remember her telling me that very same story.  She, of course, gave me his name for the tree, but she didn't volunteer anymore information, my mother didn't know anything else, and I never asked anymore about it.  That is, until now. 

The Duke's, Roscoe, and More Snow
Unfortunately, my Paw Paw passed away 6 years ago, and I'm not able to ask her any questions.  In trying to take her line back, I had some difficulties with the spelling of her name, Rettie Maye Martin.  Sometimes, she went by Rettie and sometimes she went by Maye, and both names are easily phonetically misspelled.  The one item that "saved" me was that I remembered her brother's name.  Remember, the show "Duke's of Hazzard" [not the movie, but the t.v. show]?  Do you remember Boss Hogg's sheriff, Rosco P. Coltrain? [and, wow, you can follow the actor that played Rosco on Twitter.  Will wonders never cease?]  Anyhow, that's how I remembered my Paw Paw's brother's name, Roscoe Martin.  [Silly?  Yes, but did it work?  Uh, yeah.]  Roscoe's name was a much easier name to follow in the census with usually only 2 variances [Rosco/Roscoe].  I was able to trace them from Texas back to Illinois, where they were born, which I had also remembered from our interview.  You want to know how I remembered that?  Simple, at the time it was beyond my comprehension that she was not born in Texas.  [Isn't everyone born in Texas? ;) ]  Also, when she told me she was from Illinois, my reply was, "You mean, where it snows?"  [I told you we South Texans are enamored with the whole snow concept ~ the fluffy kind, not the ice kind.]

Seeing Their Faces Made Their Story Come Alive
Remember Hurricane Ike and how my kids, my dog, and I stayed with my sister in San Antonio for a few days, and I acquired quite a few family photographs, mostly from my Dad's side of the family?  Well, amongst all of them were some photos of Roscoe [with his full name, Roscoe Benton Martin, written on the back], as well as photos of all 4 of his children.  There were also photos of him and his wife and of him and his sister, my Paw Paw.  While looking at the photos, I was captivated because I realized I was looking at the family ~ my family ~ that had perished in a house fire.  All of the photos were identified on the back in my Paw Paw's handwriting.  When I got home, I entered their data in my database software [Rootsmagic] and on my Ancestry.com tree, which is used solely to connect with other possible family members. [In other words, it's not complete, but I use it as my "clue" tree.]  A few days later, I decided to look on findagrave.com for my Martin's in both Johnson County and Williamson County in Illinois.  To my delight [not really delight, but you know what I mean, right?], I stumbled upon Roscoe's and his four children's online memorials.  The house fire that killed them was referenced, and the information had been entered by the wife of a distant cousin.  "Hm," I thought to myself.  "I need to contact her to possibly exchange information."  There were no pictures of Roscoe and his children nor of their tombstones, but did have photos of the cemetery's sign/plaque.  So, I quickly scanned my photos of them and added them to their respective memorials, to my Ancestry.com tree, and to my Rootsmagic software.  I then went on to other Martin's.  [I have since updated the photos.]  On, yet, another day, I began to think about the house fire, and I thought that maybe, just maybe, there had a been a write-up in the local newspaper about it.  After all, this was a small community, and five of it's citizens had perished in one night.  [Sounds reasonable, right?]

The Summer of 1957
So, I searched on Ancestry.com with all of Roscoe's pertinent information, and I got 2 positive hits [at least as far as I had looked].  I quickly found and read the first article, and yes, there was a house fire; and yes, Roscoe and all 4 of his children perished in that fire in the summer of 1957; but the investigators had determined that it was arson.  My heart dropped into my stomach at reading that, but I think my heart actually stopped beating for just a second as I read that Roscoe's wife and two men that they knew had been in the home for some time before the fire started [meaning that evening], and that Roscoe's wife and one of the men had got out unscathed.  And the other man?  He'd been sleeping in his car located on their street.  Oookay, these details were a bit suspicious, but what convinced the investigators that it was arson?  Well, I think the empty 5-gallon gasoline can located right outside the house and the two rooms in the house that had gasoline poured in them were pretty convincing.  I thought at the time, "Oh my God.  Someone needs to solve those murders." [Duh.]  Then a couple of weeks ago as I was fixing Roscoe's photo and creating a design for it to share with y'all for a Wordless Wednesday post, I started thinking about him and his children, and how unfair it was that their lives were taken.  Four beautiful children. [Don't you think?]  It also got me to thinking how unfair it was that these murders may have never been solved, to the best of my knowledge.  Why hadn't , my Paw Paw known, or if she had, why didn't she say anything?  Had it been too painful?  Thankfully she had their photos and identified them...for me.  I was thinking again that someone needed to look into this, and I was beginning to think that "someone" was me.  After all, when someone murdered Roscoe, his three boys, and his little girl, they ended the Martin surname, at least as far as my great-grandfather's line is concerned.  So, I've decided to "own" this one.  I mean, technically speaking their family story ended when they died in that house fire, but for me, that's an unacceptable ending.  After all, my middle name is Martin, so actually their story kind of "owns" me, and if not the person who solely carries the name in my great-grandfather's line, then who?

Let's Interact
I've decided to make this ongoing investigation a series of posts.  This means that as I research, I will be posting at least once a week with updates ~ kind of an "in-process, step-by-step" kind of thing.  Also, I invite all of your hints, tips, and suggestions.  Yup, I'm making it interactive.  That is, if you want to interact.  If not, then feel free ~ as always ~ to watch the ending of this family story unfold.  So, whaddya' think?  Don't Roscoe, Jack, Bill, Jerry, and little Cheryl Maye deserve to have their family story completed?  Don't they deserve to rest in peace?  So, "What's in a Name?"  Well, in this case, a family mystery.

I can almost hear my dad saying, "Caroline, it's like you're a detective and you're trying to solve a mystery.  Keep looking.  You can find it.  Solve the mystery."

Sources:

Texas. Fort Bend County. 1930 U.S. census, population schedule. Digital images. Ancestry.com. http://www.ancestry.com : 2007.

Illinois. Williamson County. 1920 U.S. census, population schedule. Digital images. Ancestry.com. http://www.ancestry.com : 2007.

Illinois. Johnson County. 1910 U.S. census, population schedule. Digital images. Ancestry.com. http://www.ancestry.com : 2007.

United Press, "Probe Deaths of 5 in Fire," The Hammond Times, 16 Jul 1957, p. 5, col. 2; digital images, Ancestry.com (http://www.ancestry.com : 15 Oct 2008), Historical Newspaper Collection.

Brown, Ann, Find A Grave (http://findagrave.com/ : accessed 16 Oct 2008), "Martin, Roscoe Benton," Memorial #8494172.

Brown, Ann, Find A Grave (http://findagrave.com/ : accessed 16 Oct 2008), "Martin, John "Jack" Winston," Memorial #8494193.

Brown, Ann, Find A Grave (http://findagrave.com/ : accessed 16 Oct 2008), "Martin, William "Bill" Lester," Memorial #8494179.

Brown, Ann, Find A Grave (http://findagrave.com/ : accessed 16 Oct 2008), "Martin, Jerry Ray," Memorial #8494152.

Brown, Ann, Find A Grave (http://findagrave.com/ : accessed 16 Oct 2008), "Martin, Cheryl Maye," Memorial #8494212.

Photo Credits:

Martin, Roscoe Benton. Photograph. ca. 1931. Digital Image. Privately held by Caroline Martin Pointer, [address for private use,] Conroe, Texas. 2008.

Martin, John "Jack" Winston. Photograph. ca. 1954. Digital Image. Privately held by Caroline Martin Pointer, [address for private use,] Conroe, Texas. 2008.

Martin, William "Bill" Lester. Photograph. ca. 1954. Digital Image. Privately held by Caroline Martin Pointer, [address for private use,] Conroe, Texas. 2008.

Martin, Jerry Ray. Photograph. ca. 1954. Digital Image. Privately held by Caroline Martin Pointer, [address for private use,] Conroe, Texas. 2008.


Martin, Cheryl Maye. Photograph. ca. 1954. Digital Image. Privately held by Caroline Martin Pointer, [address for private use,] Conroe, Texas. 2008.

The Family Jewels

The 16th Edition of Smile For The Camera: "Bling, Ancestor, Bling" which will be hosted by Thomas at Geneabloggers

[Bling Ancestor banner provided by the footnoteMaven, also of "Shades of the Departed" fame.]

Joseph Marschall/Marshall, Sr.

[My grandfather, a.k.a. Big Paw Paw]

This is his World War I Victory Medal. 

U.S. Army, 29th Company, 3rd Group, 165th Brigade

Joel Arthur Martin

[My Great-Grandfather, a.k.a. "Pop"; he's my grandmother's (Paw Paw's) father]

Fairly certain that this is his Cortebert Railroad Pocketwatch.  The second hand still works, but the pocketwatch is in need of refurbishing.

Rettie Maye Martin

[My grandmother on my Dad's side; a.k.a. Paw Paw, daughter of Joel (above) and wife of Big Paw Paw.] This is a picture of her wearing her 3 strand pearls.

Speaking of 3 Strand Pearls...

My father gave my mother these pearls around 1958.  They're costume jewelry with rhinestones, but they photograph well, don't you think?  My mother gave them to me on my wedding day in 1994, and one day they'll be my daughter's pearls.

...And One More "Pearl"

Remember the beautiful Pearl Williams Pointer?  Well, this pocketwatch below belonged to her father, A.O. Williams.  It was passed down to Pearl.  Then it was passed down to her son Forrest Pointer, my husband's grandfather.  It was made by Elgin in 1904 with 7 jewels, and was one of 110,000 made.  It's keywind (hunter's case) and lever set.  The Fob attached to it is rather interesting.  It reads "The South Bend Malleable Range, All Ways Preferable. Trade Mark."  On the back it reads: "The Malleable Range Mfg. Co., South Bend, IN, U.S.A."

Disasters: Not Today

Carnival of Genealogy ~ 77th Edition
"Disasters"

"As human beings, our very existence is proof of the survival skills, faith, or just plain luck our ancestors possessed in order to persevere through millenia of disasters: epidemics, wars, pestilences, famines, accidents, and acts of nature."  Here is my submission for the 77th Edition of Carnival of Genealogy, "Disasters" that will be hosted by Miriam at AnceStories:


Not Today

As I listen to Harris County's Judge Ed Emmett on the radio give his reminders and suggestions for hurricane preparedness, I am reminded of the ferociousness of Mother Nature and just how much she doesn't change.  While the world in which she exists improves and updates, her fierceness stays the same.  As relentless as Mother Nature can be, the human spirit is that much more determined.  More determined to rebuild after the destruction that Mother Nature leaves in her wake.  More determined to be bigger than what she has destroyed.  More determined to be better than what existed before she leveled the landscape.  For while Mother Nature doesn't change, neither does Man.  Man's spirit - in the face of adversity, in the face of death, and in the face of destruction - fights back with a hand in the air, as if to say, "You didn't get the best of me!"  This struggle between Man and Mother Nature has always been.  It has not changed.

In the area of the country that I live in, the Gulf Coast, we have heat, occasional flooding, and tornadoes, but the weather "buzzword" that seems to get everyone's attention, and rightly so, is "hurricane."  Of course, if you're "from" the Gulf Coast, you are merely alert at the mention of a hurricane.  Before you get all upset about the notion of standing in long lines for additional water [you can never have too much], you must first assess the hurricane situation.  Is it in the Gulf yet?  What category is it?  What's the wind speed?  How fast is it moving?  Where's it suppose to hit?  Are they evacuating the oil rigs yet?  What does Frank say?  [O.K., Frank's one of our local weather guys, and he's the one I place all my meteorological trust in.  If Frank says, "Don't worry," I don't worry.  If Frank says, "worry," I worry.  However, I'm sure you could replace his name with the name of your own meteorological "know-it-all", but for me, it's Frank - all the way.]

Today we are blessed and spoiled when it comes to being prepared for Mother Nature's fierceness.  We are able to buy batteries, gasoline, ice, beer, water, crackers, chips, bean dip, Cheese Whiz, Spam, and other canned goods - all to be prepared for the "x" amount of time you'll be without electricity .  [Warning: Hurricanes really do bring out the finer [or stranger] palate and are not for the faint of heart, or rather, stomach.] While we are better prepared nowadays, there is something that is still the same.  Once the hurricane hits the coast, once the flooding from the storm surge begins, once the lights go off, and once the torrential rain bands come, you are in the middle of a hurricane.  There's no going back.  It's just you and Mother Nature.  The same as it was for your ancestors before you.  The same as it was for my ancestors before me.

Last year [2008], my family and I were well-prepared for Hurricane Ike, or at least as much  as one can be.  After everything was purchased, after all the camping gear was carefully laid out ready for use, after all the patio furniture, plants, and my car were packed into the garage, and after a huge meal of steak and fresh Gulf shrimp was eaten [to clean out the freezer], we sat down and watched Frank on the T.V. explain our situation right up until the lights went out with the first forceful winds of Ike.

Much later in the evening after the eye of the storm had passed, I was laying on one of our couches located in front of a big window listening to the rainstorm and sweating.  [It seems hotter when you know you can't escape it.]  My genealogical mind couldn't help but wonder about my ancestors and their experience with the Storm of 1900 on Galveston Island.  How did their experience compare to mine?  Was there any comparison to be made?

From what I can tell from reading the accounts of the Storm of 1900, the main differences between the two experiences center around being prepared.  To say that they didn't have enough time to prepare for the storm that hit 8 Sep 1900 is an understatement.  [They didn't have Frank like I did and do.]  I have no written account left by my ancestors of what they exactly went through, but a little of the effects of the storm can be determined indirectly.  I can only suppose that one thing we had in common was maybe the feelings of fear, anxiety, and anticipation for daylight to come to be able to see was left and what was not.  My great-grandparents on my Dad's side, John  & Emma (Schleicher) Marschall and their children, John Jr., Jane, Antonetta, Laura Ellen, Rolland, Joseph [my grandfather, "Big Paw Paw"], and Mary all made it through the storm alive.  Thankfully, they left their farm and sought shelter in town, for if they had not, they would not have survived.

With the rising of the sun over the Gulf that next morning, my great-grandfather would soon find out the family farm's fate.  According to Charles Henry McMaster's "Report On Condition of Island Farmers"  in the space for the condition of their farmhouse on Galveston Island are two simple, but devastating words: "All Gone".  Such was the fate of many farmhouses on the island.  The report lists also that my family lost all their horses, but they had fifteen cows, 17 farm tools, and 200 household items left.  I've tried to imagine what my great-grandfather's thoughts were upon learning the extent of the damage.  Certainly, this hadn't been part of his plan when he came from Posen, Prussia to the Port of Galveston on Christmas Day in 1878.  I'm sure he was thankful that his wife and seven children were safe and sound [unlike so many other island families], but how was he going to feed those 8 mouths?  How was he going to support his family?  Likewise, I can only imagine what my great-grandmother was thinking and feeling when she heard those words, "All gone".  What exactly those 200 household items that were left were, I have no idea [my junk drawer, alone, probably has 200 items in it], but can you imagine how Emma felt?  How she felt about the loss of momentos such as pressed flowers tucked inside books, letters, photographs, journals, diaries, possibly a family bible, and jewelry.  All "things", certainly, but they were her "things".  All "things" that had meant something to her, and all were either lost or damaged.  "Things" aside though, the same question that was running through her husband's mind was probably running through hers as well.  How was she going to feed her seven children?  I can only imagine the destruction and grief that they and all the islanders faced that next morning.

As is typical after a storm [then and now], the community pulled themselves up by their boot straps, took account of the damage that was left, and got to work repairing and rebuilding.  Some 8000 people did not make it through the Storm of 1900 as my family did.  The survivors, however, persevered and rebuilt the island, strengthening it for the future storms that would come.  My family also "rebuilt" themselves with John and Emma's children growing up, marrying, and having children of their own.  Two of John's sons would eventually be in real estate development - John Jr. in Galveston and Joseph [my grandfather] in San Antonio.  Both, incidentally, building communities.

My ancestors' experience the day after the storm was nothing like mine and my family's - not really.  While I knew that my family was O.K. like they did, I additionally knew that my "things" were O.K. and that my husband still was employed.  We had been prepared for Ike and had all the necessities.  Our future was not in question, and we were going to be O.K.  Another part of our good fortune was our location.  We live about 80 miles northwest of Galveston Island, Texas.  We had a lot of wind and rain, which caused our electricity to be off for nine days.  We were merely uncomfortable, but we weren't worried about our future like my ancestors must have been in 1900.  However, those who lived on the coast when Ike hit, were not so lucky.  While the loss of human life due to preparedness was vastly different, their experiences with the loss of their "things" and their livelihoods because of Ike were more like that of my ancestors.

One thing that can be said about the Gulf Coast storms - whether it be 1900 or 2008 - Islanders of Galveston [and the people of the surrounding areas] continue to raise their hand in the air, as if to say to Mother Nature, "You didn't get the best of me.  Not Today."

[If you have the time, I strongly encourage you to take a look at the photos from Ike here.  They are a better depiction of the aftereffects than I could ever put into words.  The pictures below are of comparisons of certain places [and my children] between Galveston, pre-Ike 2008 and Galveston, post-Ike 2009.]













More information & photos can be found concerning both storms in the following places:

• Galveston and Texas History Center, Rosenberg Library
• Storm of 1900 Online Exhibit, Rosenberg Library
• Picure of home [located on the left], where my Grand Uncle would later live in 1927, during the grade raising after the storm in 1900.
• Galveston Historical Foundation
• Photos of before and after Ike
  

Good Genealogy Luck

Randy Seaver over at Genea-Musings has sent out his Saturday Night Genealogy Fun Challenge.  The directions for tonight are:

1) When have you had a dose of good genealogy luck? What document or resource did you find just by happenstance or chance? By being in the right place at the right time? By finding a family history treasure in your family's attic or basement? By finding a helpful document or reference without even looking for it?

2) Tell us about it in Comments to this post, in Comments on Facebook, or in a blog post of your own.

O.K., I have to admit that this is an easy and pleasurable task for me.  Please see my post entitled "Can You Say Genealogical Jackpot?" and read all about my "chance happening of a fortunate event."  I'm still identifying, documenting, investigating, and photographing these items, and I've even posted the stories of some of them.  Thanks Randy!  What a great idea.  It's like finding them all over again [almost].

What's In A Name?: Big Paw Paw

What's In A Name? ~ Big Paw Paw

Today's "What's In A Name?" is short and sweet.  Growing up I had always heard stories of my Big Paw Paw.  He always seemed bigger than life.  He had died before I was born and since I only knew my Paw Paw [my grandma], I was always more than a little curious as to how my grandfather had become known as "Big Paw Paw."  [Well, other than the fact that everyone needed some type of designation between my grandmother and my grandfather.]  So, the other day as I was going through some old photographs, I found the one below of my Big Paw Paw from 1951, and I snickered.  [Yes, I said snickered!]  He looks like a used car salesman, doesn't he?  Immediately I thought, "Ah.  This is why he was called 'Big Paw Paw'."  He kind of reminds me of what I always thought "Big Daddy" from Tennessee Williams' "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" should look like.  Enjoy, and have a great weekend!

Wordless Wednesday: John & Belle

Wedding Day

What's In A Name: Turnagain

Take A Left, Then A Right, Then Turnagain...
Yes, you read correctly, Turnagain.  That is, Turnagain, Alaska.  Admittedly, it's not as creative as Dead Horse, Alaska, but it does make one think.  At least, it made me think about how it became known as Turnagain.  [I just couldn't pass it up.]

Mutiny on the Bounty
Ever heard of "Mutiny on the Bounty"?  Well, a William Bligh was the commanding officer of the British Royal Navy ship, "Bounty" on that mutinous day 28 Apr 1789.  However before this time, he served as James Cook's Sailing Master on Cook's third exploration for the Northwest Passageway in 1776.  They entered into what is now known as Cook's Inlet [so named after Cook by George Vancouver in 1794].  There were two bodies of water there that Bligh felt were probably just headwaters of rivers and not the much sought-after Northwest Passageway.  However, Cook sent Bligh and some men to check it out.  The first one [now known as Knik Arm] was indeed just the mouth of a river, which frustrated the explorers.  Cook then sent Bligh and some more men back out to check the second one.  Again, this body of water turned out to be the mouth of a second river.  In his frustration, Bligh named the river...Turnagain.  I would suppose that Bligh had a wee bit of a sense of humor.  Older maps have it listed as Turnagain River, but it eventually became Turnagain Arm [from the shape, maybe?].  Also the area on the mainland near Anchorage became known as Turnagain as well.



View Larger Map

Making People Want To Turnagain
Could Bligh have ever guessed that almost 200 years later that the river that he and his men named so haphazzardly and the surrounding area named after the river would be so devastatingly changed forever?  Something so horrific that it would make the survivors feel like turning 'round again and heading for safer ground?  Probably not.  How could he possibly predict that on Good Friday, 27 Mar 1964 at 5:36 P.M. the largest earthquake in U.S. and North American history would occur in the Anchorage Area, forever changing the landscape?  It registered between 8.4 & 8.6 on the Richter Scale, but was later upgraded to a 9.2, but no matter what the category, 131 people lost their lives due to the earthquake and the following tsunamis.  The hardest hit in the Anchorage area, by far, was Turnagain.  A portion of the community simply fell off the face of the earth.  Well, it seemed that way.  It actually slid into the inlet.

Roles In History
My Uncle Harry is Retired Air Force, and he and my Aunt Carole [my Dad's sister] were stationed in Anchorage, Alaska at the time of the Good Friday Earthquake.  Lucky for me, she's a stickler for documenting events.  Not only did she save a copy of the Anchorage Daily Times, Special Edition, "The Quake Story" dated Tuesday, 14 Apr 1964, but she took photos of the earthquake's aftermath, labelled each photograph, and sent them all to my Paw Paw in San Antonio, Texas.  When she passed away, my father ended up with them, and now they're mine.  Below are some designs I made for the photos.  My aunt and uncle had lived on Govt. Hill just north of downtown, and the Turnagain area is located just south of downtown along the coast.


View Larger Map
















This just goes to show you how our family stories really do fit into history.  Sometimes our family members are the main players, and sometimes they are the spectators recording events as they happen.  No matter what role they have, though, the important thing to remember is that they had one.  They were there participating in history...

...participating in their family story...

...in our family story.

Caroline

Sources/Credits:
Wikipedia
The Mariner's Museum
www.anchorage.net
Photos are part of the private collection of Caroline Pointer.
Photo Background Designs: "Northern Lights" by Caroline Pointer
"Northern Lights" Design Credits:
Photoshop Elements 7
"Beyond the Mist" Brush by Midnightstouch

With Both My Hearts

Chinese Food and Yellow Roses
In the middle of my sophomore year in high school my dad bought my mom a house for her birthday.  [Yes, a real house.]  He surprised her with the key to the house, and we celebrated with take-out Chinese food at the built-in kitchen table in our new house.  My dad had also given my mom what he always gave her on special occasions: 2 dozen yellow roses.  As we were eating, I was looking at the beautiful roses, and I also read the card.  It read: "To Carolyn, I love you with both my hearts.  Love, Joe."  For the life of me I couldn't figure out what that meant so I asked them.  My dad explained that when they met and were first married, they used to play a game.  Mom would say she loved him, and he'd say I love you more.  They'd go back and forth with each one proclaiming the depth of their love for each other.  Dad would always end it with, "I have 2 hearts so I love you the most."  [Definite Aaahh moment for us women...]



Mom's Rose Bushes
My mom loves roses.  In fact, my dad would always give her rose bushes [he gave me one, too] as gifts [sometimes for "just because"].  We had quite a rose bush garden, but when we moved we had to leave them behind.  About year ago [for some odd reason] I got to thinking about those rose bushes and my mom's rose garden, and, at the time, I wished that I had had a picture of it [again, for some odd reason].  When looking for the picture of Oscar the Donkey just the other day, I found a Polaroid picture of mom's rose garden [that from the looks of it, needs a little cleaning]!  After my "family picture happy dance", I'd thought it'd be perfect to share this story of my parents with you today.



Happy 54th Anniversary!
Today is the 54th Anniversary of my parents' wedding, though dad is no longer with us.  So, I thought I'd share some pictures of their life together.  Also, I have a message that I can't give my mom in person [because I think it would be too upsetting for her].  Mom, I wish you and dad a happy anniversary, and I know that dad loves you with both his hearts!









Caroline

Were Your Ancestors Beautiful?

What is Beauty?
For the sake of this post, I am going to define beauty as the following:

• Physical Beauty [While it's superficial, I know, it is a real, tangible, and undeniable part of beauty].
• What's Said About You By Others; and
• Your Actions [They really do speak louder than words.]

Physical Beauty
Whenever I look at this photograph, I am so captivated by the subject's beauty.  This is Pearley May "Pearl" [Williams] Pointer, the wife of Harvey Lewis "Harve" Pointer.  She is my husband's great-grandmother on his father's side.  Wasn't she beautiful?  Her skin is so perfect looking and her face is so expressive that I think, sometimes, she looks like she is going to "pop" out of the photograph and into my life.  [I wish she would because I have some questions for her...]  It is easily one of my favorite old photographs.  Pearl was born 21 May 1887 in Fairfield Township, Carroll Co., Missouri, and her family moved back and forth from Missouri to Iowa.  She died in Collins, Story County, Iowa 29 Sep 1970.  Her maternal line, the Odell family, and her paternal line, the Williams family, can both be traced back to England.

What Others Say About You Can Be Very Revealing About Your Character...
This photograph is of a 125-year old autograph book that belonged to my husband's great-great grandmother Lovina Emaline "Vina" [Richmond] Haley.  She was the wife of Daniel Haley [one of 10 children of Irish immigrants, Patrick & Bridget (Foley) Haley], and she was the daughter of James Richmond, Jr. of Indiana and Luvisa Logsdon/Logston of Kentucky.  This family heirloom is easily one of my favorites.  All of the entries are four line rhymes.  The first chronological entry was made 22 Feb 1884 by Della B. Stier, her niece, and it indicates that Della is the one who has given this album to her.  Many of the entries are by her nieces, nephews, and sisters right before they left Iowa to live out west.  What a precious gift they gave their aunt as well as their aunt's many descendants.  By the entries alone, you can tell that she was a beloved aunt.  However, these aren't  the only entries.  There are some by her friends as well as other family members.  In fact, 14 Mar 1885 Daniel Haley [my husband's great-great grandfather], her husband, wrote the following:

     On this page
     The first in this book
     I will write my name
     In your Autograph Book.

     Yours Very Truly,
     Daniel Haley

Daniel and Lovina's son, Wilbert Raymond Haley [my husband's great-grandfather] wrote the following to his mother 3 Jan 1896:

     Dear Mamma,
     I thought I would write on this sheet of paper to let you see it when
     you are old and see how good
     I could write when I was nine years old.  I will write my name.
     Your Baby,
     Ray Haley

And here is one that when I read it to my children, we all got goosebumps:

    9 May 1889
    Mrs. Haley,
   
    One hundred years from now
    Where will this album be
    Who will look these pages o'er
    And think of you and me

    Sallie Pontz

[Well, 125 yrs later, I can tell you, it's me!]

Actions Speak Louder Than Words
Here is a photograph of Frank Edward Haley, the first son of Daniel and Lovina Haley.  He was their adopted son [their biological son was Wilbert Raymond Haley who I mentioned above].  I have determined through a lot of research that Edward was not a blood relation of theirs.  Many times, if there was an adoption, it was usually a blood family member of sorts.  Well, from the best I can tell, Edward was not a blood relation.  Edward was adopted as an infant, and Wilbert came 9 years after that.  What love Daniel and Lovina must have had in their hearts to adopt Edward and raise him as their own.

Though I don't have a photograph of Lovina [not yet, anyway], I can tell that she was just as beautiful as Pearl was!

Caroline

Martians, Marshmallows, and Genealogy...

Paw Paw

This is my Paw Paw [my grandmother on my dad's side]. These are some of my favorite pictures of her because they are so expressive. The picture in the center I think is very fitting for Mother's Day, as this was taken with her children [my dad and aunt]. Rettie Maye was born in Southern Illinois in 1913 and was the daughter of Lillie Mae Alley and the grandaughter of Catharine Caroline Vaughn [both also of Southern Illinois]

Stop Calling Me a Martian!

Growing up I always hated my middle name, Martin. When you're a kid, you don't want to be different and my name was definitely not the norm - 2 surnames or a man's name for a middle name [definitely not cool]. I was the object of a lot of teasing and name-calling when other kids found out my middle name. The most popular names were martian and marshmallow. The second nickname making fun of my last name, Marshall [cuz hey, why not?], and sometimes there was that kid in the crowd that put them together: Martian Marshmallow [ha-ha. Very funny]. No worries, though, I'm made of sterner stuff than that, and although I'd like to say that I took the high road and ignored them, I can't. I gave as good as I got...[after all, what would you expect from a bossy, oops, I mean managing woman/girl?

Mom, Why Did You Give Me the Middle Name, Martin?

I just never understood why my mom gave me the name, and I never thought to ask until much later in life. So, why did she give me the middle name, Martin? She said that I was named after Paw Paw's maiden name, and that Paw Paw and I [at the time I asked] were the only one's left in her father's line to carry on the name, and she went on to explain that my Paw Paw's brother and all of his kids died in a house fire [arson: a story for another day]...

Oh. [sigh] Now I've got to say that since that day, I've been so very proud to be named after her...My Paw Paw died in 2003 and now I'm left to carry on the Martin name. Happy Mother's Day, Paw Paw!

[So, does anyone else have any childhood nicknames that they hated, or how about a family story behind a maternal name in your family? Share it in comments, if you want...]

Caroline

Secrets, Part 5

I'm running out of new and different Galveston pictures that don't have a bunch of peeps in them so this story has to end soon! [Besides, I have an appointment with a guy about some islands that I want...] So, did the Storm of 1900 leave Nettie, Joseph, and Mary orphans?...Nope, it didn't. Remember how in my ignorance I didn't check for any other Marschall's in the 1910 census? If I had, I would've found them. Also, I was able to find a digital copy of the Galveston Commissioners Report of the status of the farms and the farm families after the storm at the Rosenberg Library in their manuscript department. [Oh yeah...] It had good info including their temporary address after the storm, and 2 of their nearby neighbors were the Rosin's and the Cobb's.

I located the Marschall family's death certificates [other than Joseph's, but I did have my grandfather's]; the birth certificates of all the children's children, the men's World War I Registration Cards, and San Antonio land transactions for John Jr. and Otto Rosin [along with my grandfather's]. Below I've listed a summary of each family member to hopefully make things a little easier to understand. [The birth and death certificates were found @ Clayton Genealogical Library [located on Caroline St.], but the death certs can be found now on FamilySearch and Footnote as well.]

John Marschall, Sr.,  Father

After the Storm of 1900, John, Sr. and Emma never lived together again. In 1910, he lived with his daughter, Jane and her husband Otto Rosin in San Antonio at which time Otto was a dairy farmer [maybe John Sr. helped him with that].  In 1920 he lived alone until he passed away in 1928 while living in Hitchcock, Texas [which is on the mainland, but still in Galveston County].  No matter where he lived, he always listed his occupation as a farmer even though he never owned one again after the storm.  He now lays at rest in an unmarked grave in Lakeview Cemetery on Galveston Island.  I did find his Naturalization Certificate as well as a passport application that he filed...wonderful clues left...he was from Posen, Prussia, and his father was...John Marschall, [of course].

Emma Schleicher Marschall, Mother

In 1910, his wife Emma lived with their son John Jr, and his family.  She continued to live on Galveston Island where she passed away in 1927 and is now buried next to her husband in Lakeview Cemetery on the island.  Her last residence was on 31st St near the Strand where the parking lot now is of the Bank of America building [a pity, though, because the nearby homes are Victorian beauties...].  Her parents were Herman and Betty Schleicher of Germany, and Emma was born in New Braunfels, Tx.

John Marschall, Jr. and Josephine Ballou

John, Jr. married Josephine Ballou and was born, lived and died on Galveston Island [he was what we call an "Islander" here]. In 1910, Emma [John's mother] lived with them. They lived in various homes throughout Galveston, and one of the homes [pic on the right] located on 25th St is now an art gallery, Galveston Gallery [not sure of its status after hurricane Ike, though].  John Jr.'s occupations were [in order] farmer [while growing up], fisherman, dairyman, realtor - which actually represents some of the industry trends at the time in this part of Texas.  John and Josephine in 1928 bought land from a Joseph Marshall of San Antonio and immediately mortgaged it plus 26 shares of stock to pay $350 to an Oveta Marshall to get a judgement released against a Joseph Marshall of San Antonio as per a divorce decree.  In 1932 they sold this same land to an Otto Rosin of San Antonio.  John and Josephine had only 1 child, John Raymond, Sr.

Jane Marschall and Otto Rosin

Jane Marschall married an Otto Rosin of Germany, who had been the son of Wilhelm and Caroline Rosin also of Germany.  [Remember the neighboring Rosin farm on the island?...his mother, in my opinion, had a way cool name...]  Otto's 3 youngest siblings were born on Galveston Island - including an Emma Rosin.  Otto's occupations?  Farmer, dairy man, propietor of a house moving business in San Antonio, and was in real estate in San Antonio.  Many Islanders moved from Galveston to "higher ground" after the storm, and at the time San Antonio was experiencing a "boom" and was growing rapidly.  Some of Jane's and Otto's children were born in Galveston and some in San Antonio.  In 1910, Emma Rosin was living with them along with Jane's father John, Sr.  in San Antonio.  Otto and Jane always lived in the area of San Antonio that's south of Interstate-10 and east of Interstate-35 [bottom right corner of San Antonio & near downtown].  And as mentioned before he bought land in San Antonio from John and Josephine in 1932.

Antonetta "Nettie" Marschall and Nicholas Pericles "Pete" Legatos
Nettie [baptized Antonetta] Marschall married, of course, Nicholas Pericles "Pete" Legatos [later changed to Legate].  Pete had been a son of a Greek immigrant and fisherman.  Until Pete's death, they had always lived on Galveston Island and had fished for a living.  After the Storm of 1900, Joseph and Mary lived with them and their family.  Nettie passed away while in Rusk State Hospital [mental insitution] in Cherokee, Texas under mysterious circumstances.


Laura Ellen "Ella" Marschall and Miles Breen; Thomas Cobb
Laura Ellen "Ella" Marschall married a Miles Breen and together with their children lived on the island.  After Miles passed away, Laura Ellen married a Thomas Cobb. [Remember the Cobb farm near the Marschall farm?]  She had 1 son with Thomas.  I found her name as "Ella" on several documents.

Roman/Rolland Marschall

Roman/Rolland Marschall [name found spelled both ways]  died young in 1922 on Galveston Island from a massive heart attack.  In 1910 he'd been the only boarder with a family whose next door neighbors were Breen's.  He's buried in an unmarked grave in Lakeview Cemetery on the island.



Mary Marschall and Harry Esperson
Mary Marschall married a Harry Esperson who'd been a...dairyman and the son of an Aussie & New Yorker.  He and Mary moved to San Antonio and bought a home [but not from Otto or Joseph].  Five months later, Harry died due to complications of Diabetes.  Then 2 months after that Mary became septic from strep throat and passed away childless.  Otto Rosin, her brother-in-law, was the informant on her death certificate.  She and Harry were transferred back to Galveston and were buried there.



...And Joseph?...stay tuned for the rest of the story & secrets...[the end, I promise, is next]

Caroline