tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10480011465924989872024-03-13T20:05:49.266-07:00Under Every TombstoneAs I say in my Find a Grave profile, "There is a story under every tombstone". While photographing graves for Find A Grave or genealogy research, I have come across many interesting stories about the people buried under those tombstones. In this blog I will share some of the most interesting of these stories with you. Why? So these people will not be forgotten. ~~~~~Jim Craig - Evanston, Illinois USA - A member of The Association of Graveyard Rabbits~~~~ Contact me at: jwcraig1100@gmail.com Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.comBlogger309125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-78158724604718099712024-03-01T03:38:00.000-08:002024-03-01T03:38:40.302-08:00THE FATHER OF THE EVANSTON WATER WORKS - Charles Judson Gilbert<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When I was growing up in Evanston, Illinois, there was only one Evanston "newspaper," the Evanston Review. It was a very popular publication. It reported a very large amount of local news and everyone I knew subscribed. Now that it is owned by Tribune Publications it has become more of a paper covering events on the North Shore, instead of just Evanston, and frankly it is over-loaded with advertisements. I don't know anyone who subscribes to the Evanston Review anymore. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In addition to the Evanston Review I am aware of two other Evanston newspapers: Evanston Now, and the one I prefer, The Evanston RoundTable. One of the reasons I prefer the RoundTable is that it often features articles about Evanston's history - and let's fact it, Evanston has ALOT of history. A recent blurb in the Roundtable section "Around the Web" said the following:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiM0hO1GSFzBPzFKpUmgsytGaIV-3MbMcj7NisEmD1mV091W9E1k-sIZxOdkp_Fm6TpYJs3BXeeyL4UN_LXS9b5r0bWsFGheQYAKYUX5rc2c9ms6bJR1BNmQ5m_-Sk8Bx7Mp5XoJPh7pHAvhnBzZaw6Lg1w0ftCdRfR2Fg60wFm97ieruCuh6R36f14tBnO" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="99" data-original-width="806" height="69" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiM0hO1GSFzBPzFKpUmgsytGaIV-3MbMcj7NisEmD1mV091W9E1k-sIZxOdkp_Fm6TpYJs3BXeeyL4UN_LXS9b5r0bWsFGheQYAKYUX5rc2c9ms6bJR1BNmQ5m_-Sk8Bx7Mp5XoJPh7pHAvhnBzZaw6Lg1w0ftCdRfR2Fg60wFm97ieruCuh6R36f14tBnO=w564-h69" width="564" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Now that sounded interesting. A click on the link brought me to the article Chicago Magazine did on 1812 Asbury being for sale. Although my mind is filled with useless trivia on the history of Evanston, I could not come up with the name of the first village president. The article told me that his name was Charles J. Gilbert. Here is a picture of Gilbert and a photo of the house:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjceyorknAuOJ7Ze-sLvgWVh9Hq0rrOMOEKi82LToPn_cp62TXLOweGADolK6b7y9kDXjxo5JIpit139gJmt1JbjuTcbeHS1P6HK0_UnE7gkVHryDWC_1M1_qBfX8F3kPYrcD2IrWBg5RnfpJMadLzhLv4nFJ5jY1KAZjmywgdVaWPj73NyPGN_canPJoYQ/s520/Gilbert%20Portrait%20Index%2009.15.1900.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="424" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjceyorknAuOJ7Ze-sLvgWVh9Hq0rrOMOEKi82LToPn_cp62TXLOweGADolK6b7y9kDXjxo5JIpit139gJmt1JbjuTcbeHS1P6HK0_UnE7gkVHryDWC_1M1_qBfX8F3kPYrcD2IrWBg5RnfpJMadLzhLv4nFJ5jY1KAZjmywgdVaWPj73NyPGN_canPJoYQ/w326-h400/Gilbert%20Portrait%20Index%2009.15.1900.JPG" width="326" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjf6ku3ecp1jw69dNqTiYgzagxVTaN-jR95q2OOyfbnEqzJUq3aiUjCYXi56JFSr2-pB8uofLXNGFxyptdcaGkDqBC-hI5el06ftGhuYYUeO-4izadJyV7OqLxHD3zwiJOshLCCOMpdbVMD2VyqWWRP2FAJnER6YyzfICd-IslQHHJU0S1EwcM1FsANt6AB" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjf6ku3ecp1jw69dNqTiYgzagxVTaN-jR95q2OOyfbnEqzJUq3aiUjCYXi56JFSr2-pB8uofLXNGFxyptdcaGkDqBC-hI5el06ftGhuYYUeO-4izadJyV7OqLxHD3zwiJOshLCCOMpdbVMD2VyqWWRP2FAJnER6YyzfICd-IslQHHJU0S1EwcM1FsANt6AB=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1812 Asbury Avenue, Evanston, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I recognized the house immediately as I'm sure anyone from Evanston did. But even though Evanston history is a hobby of mine, I had never heard of Charles J. Gilbert and know nothing about him. So this month I will tell you the story of Evanston's first Village President, Charles J. Gilbert.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Charles Judson Gilbert was born in April of 1829 in Lima, New York, the son of Eralsamon Gilbert (1802-1877) and Keziah Leavenworth (1805-1895). Eralsamon and Keziah were married October 27, 1827 in Rush, New York. The groom was twenty-five; the bride was twenty-two. Eralsamon Gilbert was a boot and shoe maker by trade.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Eralsamon and Keziah had four children altogether: three sons and a daughter. They were: Charles Judson (1829-1900), Daniel H. (1833-1896), William Curtiss (1843-1924) and Mary Jane (1845-1892). </span></div><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On February 8, 1858 Charles Judson Gilbert married Jane Lucinda Goodridge Hedges (1834-1888) in Lansing, Michigan. The groom was twenty-nine; the bride was twenty-three. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jane Goodridge, called "Jennie" came from an illustrious line descended from William Goodridge who came to America from England in 1636. Jennie's parents were Allen Goodridge (1806-1891) and Lucinda Lauretta Ransom (1812-1899) Allen and Lucinda Goodridge had seven children: Jane Lucinda "Jennie"/Mrs. Charles Gilbert (1834-1888), Moses Hale (1835-1893), Helen Laurette (1839-1839), Ellen Clarissa "Nellie"/Mrs. Edward F. Queen (1840-1870), Cynthia Sophia (1845-1848), Mary Abiah "Molly"/Mrs. John W. Clampitt (1842-1910) and Frederick Ransom (1849-1923).</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Allen Goodridge was in the mercantile trade. Allen and Lucinda were followers of Emanuel Swedenborg in his Church of the New Jerusalem ("The Swedenborgians").. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jennie had been previously married to Charles A. Hedges in 1853. He died in 1854.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Charles and Jennie had a total of five children: Wyllis Allen (1858-1860), Elia Leavenworth/Mrs. Walter Smith Williams (1861-1942), Charles Ransom (1863-1938), Frederic William (1866-1941), and Arthur Eralsamon (1873-1893). </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The newlyweds settled in St. Louis, Missouri where Charles was in the Grain Commission business. His business partner was E. O. Stannard who went on to become the governor of Missouri. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span style="font-size: medium;">Charles and Jennie were blessed with a son, Wyllis Allen Gilbert on November 30, 1858.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><div>The 1860 US Census shows the Gilbert family living in the 4th Ward of the City of St. Louis, Missouri. The family consisted of: Charles J. Gilbert (31 years old), Jane A. (26), and Willis A. (2). They also had a Servant living with them, Mary Satright from Ireland (24). Charles Gilbert listed his occupation as "Merchant." He said he had Personalty valued at $3,000.00 ($110,872.00 in today's funds). The Real Estate they owned was in his wife's name, and was valued at $6,000.00 ($221,744.00 today). She also reported Personalty of $600.00 ($22,174.00 today). </div><div><br /></div><div>Unfortunately, Wyllis Allen Gilbert died September 18, 1860 just short of his second birthday. He is buried in an unmarked grave in the Bellefontaine Cemetery in St. Louis in the Elks Section, Block 71, Lot 997. </div><div><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlVWtNTjkiZwd2PaWOFIwxUiK6uBCWss2b3Z01sS0XGDV54xn2LOz-5rDJhdPS9tJRaVAAupwkf-MM8xjkCZe_eOm3TDRc_Bj0AAK7TvyfSwPQdN38hChAl99co6pp9SKPBKUwLJnO8fZwzMALHXwpvXuJnU_HSnJsuHgutI3xWJ_cWmy_Nqty2VaMwj5Z/s2456/Gilbert,%20Wyllis%20marked.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1253" data-original-width="2456" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlVWtNTjkiZwd2PaWOFIwxUiK6uBCWss2b3Z01sS0XGDV54xn2LOz-5rDJhdPS9tJRaVAAupwkf-MM8xjkCZe_eOm3TDRc_Bj0AAK7TvyfSwPQdN38hChAl99co6pp9SKPBKUwLJnO8fZwzMALHXwpvXuJnU_HSnJsuHgutI3xWJ_cWmy_Nqty2VaMwj5Z/w471-h240/Gilbert,%20Wyllis%20marked.jpg" width="471" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photo courtesy of Find a Grave Volunteer Randal Nichoalds</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>When the Civil War broke out, Charles and Jennie moved to Chicago where Charles could better conduct his business as Commission Merchant. </div></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Here is an advertisement for Gilbert, Miles and Stannard from the Chicago Tribune of May 24, 1861 that shows that they were conducting business from Chicago as well as St. Louis:</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhURWJNG03olivqmCIVnzXvcp8Ujenbrgx6wNNxEm5L2nNeROiJxN4He0fuCDBNKBI8pl2UYlKDSmdKoypW_kV2i8geXmj9OjNczUdt5viC5YPrxpTB65sDrSStsf4wD0Ji09XKpStiYLYMHKl-fn6O76yOl-aiIBLZ4iPHGvwJGEgpxHgsbTgxc8H56yh2/s557/Chicago_Tribune_1861_05_24_page_3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="190" data-original-width="557" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhURWJNG03olivqmCIVnzXvcp8Ujenbrgx6wNNxEm5L2nNeROiJxN4He0fuCDBNKBI8pl2UYlKDSmdKoypW_kV2i8geXmj9OjNczUdt5viC5YPrxpTB65sDrSStsf4wD0Ji09XKpStiYLYMHKl-fn6O76yOl-aiIBLZ4iPHGvwJGEgpxHgsbTgxc8H56yh2/w400-h136/Chicago_Tribune_1861_05_24_page_3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The second child and only daughter of Charles and Jennie was Elia Leavenworth Gilbert (1861-1942), born on November 22, 1861 in Chicago. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">By 1863 J.R. Miles had left the partnership and had been replaced by G.W. Updike. This is from the Chicago Tribune of July 6, 1863:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgglTZQjCXBQWYS4MSu_06CvDQtadV_hnyHSxlEtySpDcqOnyQtkQGf1ywYjKbloIOw3usk2UngbsZuoVBff5Gi6pR4LN9YIzTvpwqNYNKYPC6U40XCG8I6KVD1lSaJY0ipCXH-l9GmLQ0Lr8887WD6GYP-4SaNx9c3PhH4cOb5KJoAnub_GHHIw18VfTu7/s548/Chicago_Tribune_1863_07_06_page_3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="191" data-original-width="548" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgglTZQjCXBQWYS4MSu_06CvDQtadV_hnyHSxlEtySpDcqOnyQtkQGf1ywYjKbloIOw3usk2UngbsZuoVBff5Gi6pR4LN9YIzTvpwqNYNKYPC6U40XCG8I6KVD1lSaJY0ipCXH-l9GmLQ0Lr8887WD6GYP-4SaNx9c3PhH4cOb5KJoAnub_GHHIw18VfTu7/w400-h140/Chicago_Tribune_1863_07_06_page_3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">On August 08, 1863, another son was born to Charles and Jennie: Charles Ransom Gilbert (1863-1938) was born in Chicago.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Under the heading of "Don't believe everything you read on the Internet": Some sources report that Charles' middle name was "Eralsamon." Although that unusual name shows up several times in the Gilbert family tree, Charles' middle name was "Ransom" as indicated on his tombstone. Further, some sources list Charles as "Jr." The father's name was "Charles Judson Gilbert" and the son was named "Charles Ransom Gilbert," so no "Jr." designation is appropriate. It's always better to double-check "facts" when doing genealogical research. That would keep an lot of erroneous information off of family trees. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">One of the reasons that Charles J. Gilbert wanted to move to Chicago was that Chicago was the home of the famous Chicago Board of Trade. Always well-liked and personable, by 1864 Charles Gilbert was standing for election as Second Vice President of the Board of Trade on the "Board of Trade Ticket" as reported by the Chicago Tribune of April 04, 1864:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPGl22i2zNXs7t1dIfH6qYspXdF_sks73PUSSvsYZjobanIKw6uMEmGxZjJebq3PgLTU-LrbSk6Xh6eAo6A-4YOfATJxSKRiGCBGXahD0DmFjKehGUzCGfBo2Zt5J40qH_jshEGPvCoW3fBnaZ-6oGRehKLKHf6r7CpTpRZwnQQGwjwJ7i40bpMJtYldiO/s1346/Chicago_Tribune_1864_04_04_page_4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1346" data-original-width="565" height="930" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPGl22i2zNXs7t1dIfH6qYspXdF_sks73PUSSvsYZjobanIKw6uMEmGxZjJebq3PgLTU-LrbSk6Xh6eAo6A-4YOfATJxSKRiGCBGXahD0DmFjKehGUzCGfBo2Zt5J40qH_jshEGPvCoW3fBnaZ-6oGRehKLKHf6r7CpTpRZwnQQGwjwJ7i40bpMJtYldiO/w389-h930/Chicago_Tribune_1864_04_04_page_4.jpg" width="389" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On April 5, 1864 the Tribune reported that Charles J. Gilbert had been elected. Note the comments about Gilbert in the second-last paragraph as well:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLbbn3dd4P5Jsc15ynVeXUzYDtxf-LDjb4Sa5Ppj97Zbjvm21ot6PvKDeTixQ16470KueFOXyfdzlfR72crdBFPN-hwKpNslhjYpY4JRAAaxQmIMUCCXm2EoiypgcB0yIQVNY1pc-rTORP6MQBRUStbmiHbNNqgNFwZ5B7HI7lJj214StR976YT9ytEQfy/s565/Chicago_Tribune_1864_04_05_page_4%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="565" data-original-width="565" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLbbn3dd4P5Jsc15ynVeXUzYDtxf-LDjb4Sa5Ppj97Zbjvm21ot6PvKDeTixQ16470KueFOXyfdzlfR72crdBFPN-hwKpNslhjYpY4JRAAaxQmIMUCCXm2EoiypgcB0yIQVNY1pc-rTORP6MQBRUStbmiHbNNqgNFwZ5B7HI7lJj214StR976YT9ytEQfy/w400-h400/Chicago_Tribune_1864_04_05_page_4%20(1).jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On January 13, 1865 the Chicago Tribune announced that Charles J. Gilbert had been elected to the Board of Directors of the Fifth National Bank in Chicago.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-EhDIgPi6LyGKORTbvoqOJEI4u1ATW7apNXTRNUdDF1Mva9RwRbDTZSQEcj-o2ATnH6FvqtR5hkHq-Yhze5hBq-VM56IRwRRnmUcG4LTJ12Ojs0uHjssjWYYg-x-z-ZGP7fuZClWNl1O-DDRcogijob4Jw4vUsX93bxBMUzvUqN9tW-Seq4OriPEe5t1v/s536/OK%20-%20Chicago_Tribune_1865_02_27_page_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="246" data-original-width="536" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-EhDIgPi6LyGKORTbvoqOJEI4u1ATW7apNXTRNUdDF1Mva9RwRbDTZSQEcj-o2ATnH6FvqtR5hkHq-Yhze5hBq-VM56IRwRRnmUcG4LTJ12Ojs0uHjssjWYYg-x-z-ZGP7fuZClWNl1O-DDRcogijob4Jw4vUsX93bxBMUzvUqN9tW-Seq4OriPEe5t1v/w477-h219/OK%20-%20Chicago_Tribune_1865_02_27_page_1.jpg" width="477" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Being an astute businessman, Charles J. Gilbert knew that as soon as the Civil War ended the US economy would grow by leaps-and-bounds as the reunited country rebuilt everything that had been lost during the war. The Chicago Tribune reported on March 30, 1865 that C.J. Gilbert was President and Member of the Board of Directors of The Garden City Petroleum, Mining and Manufacturing Company of Chicago:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQc_Y71rWjBHiSZCVK2vQnpehNRFOyU_HyIq-WFvdrhQLIXynISKhGFOQtPHYNMyIg27WENcbZwPPojU8N6eNvYBWulxXUqNuxZr7khAWODMJaF_DKWvf4uSF6LYCYanncf6wkUsS8qt2J9yiSkjRXp_f0TFeOry4JA53d0svEr1PtoqhMufeB_EwU3O5w/s1168/Chicago_Tribune_1865_03_30_page_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1168" data-original-width="560" height="753" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQc_Y71rWjBHiSZCVK2vQnpehNRFOyU_HyIq-WFvdrhQLIXynISKhGFOQtPHYNMyIg27WENcbZwPPojU8N6eNvYBWulxXUqNuxZr7khAWODMJaF_DKWvf4uSF6LYCYanncf6wkUsS8qt2J9yiSkjRXp_f0TFeOry4JA53d0svEr1PtoqhMufeB_EwU3O5w/w360-h753/Chicago_Tribune_1865_03_30_page_1.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">And on May 22, 1865 the Tribune announced that C.J. Gilbert was a Director of the Provident Life Insurance and Investment Company:</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFk8wnCZJrmQvRmvKcNPJ-K1R7A7_eKEB1cE1mhTpVktC9gmoKO-E0qWbHRdUr6z0llbgtUwmagK2AeZs2dPnoLYIbv9YOI-pU4OGaNvL0FMYN3FDTnDPO8UHLLu5oiqZLcB2KIC01ufl8b-oN_fD2W6nF_kGg_AM14Iq7AEq-1yif0ABvNIUA8ZsBuq8J/s775/Chicago_Tribune_1865_05_22_page_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="775" data-original-width="525" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFk8wnCZJrmQvRmvKcNPJ-K1R7A7_eKEB1cE1mhTpVktC9gmoKO-E0qWbHRdUr6z0llbgtUwmagK2AeZs2dPnoLYIbv9YOI-pU4OGaNvL0FMYN3FDTnDPO8UHLLu5oiqZLcB2KIC01ufl8b-oN_fD2W6nF_kGg_AM14Iq7AEq-1yif0ABvNIUA8ZsBuq8J/w434-h640/Chicago_Tribune_1865_05_22_page_1.jpg" width="434" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On <span style="font-family: inherit;">November 29, 1866 another son, Frederick William Gilbert (1866-1941) was born in Chicago.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There seems to conflicting information as to when Charles J. Gilbert moved to Evanston. Virtually every source about him, including his obituaries, say he moved to Evanston in 1868. However, the Chicago, Illinois Civic Directory for 1867 shows that although he maintained his business in Chicago, his residence was in Evanston. His first residence in Evanston was on the south side of Church Street, east of Hinman. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1870 US Census finds the Gilbert Family living in Evanston, Illinois. The Census Enumerator was the well-known Evanstonian Philo Judson Beveridge. The Gilbert family consisted of Charles (41 years old), Jane (35), Elia (8), Charles (6) and Frederick (3). They were also able to afford two domestic servants: Ellen McNally (19), and Mary Roman (22) - both from Ireland. Charles listed his occupation as "Grain Dealer"; Jane was "Keeping House." Elia and Charles were in school. Charles reported Real Estate worth $100,000.00 ($2.34 million in today's funds) and personalty in the amount of $40,000.00 ($967,000.00 in today's funds).</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">From the very beginning of his time living in Evanston, Charles Gilbert felt is was his duty to get involved in local politics - especially to get the things done that would make Evanston a modern, thriving city. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">One project especially dear to Gilbert was a Water Works for Evanston. Here's what the Chicago Evening Post reported about that on July 6, 1872:</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3RExnEjLk5hAxL3dX3nb9_owLsiiBGGaA3raAdwc2hTdye6GMoszT6RH4qhBN2DTwm39geC96paTLvSwBRgUhX83Hnvt9pkfVDDt6_T5tbjFuCCWHyAlHVyEsKAozsZn9wKU0n991faPphqTdoc1l2hILMQAl87cM4PDNbdJPwxMKWP2SqXEnzBu9B1Ye/s735/Chicago_Evening_Post_1872_07_06_page_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="735" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3RExnEjLk5hAxL3dX3nb9_owLsiiBGGaA3raAdwc2hTdye6GMoszT6RH4qhBN2DTwm39geC96paTLvSwBRgUhX83Hnvt9pkfVDDt6_T5tbjFuCCWHyAlHVyEsKAozsZn9wKU0n991faPphqTdoc1l2hILMQAl87cM4PDNbdJPwxMKWP2SqXEnzBu9B1Ye/w400-h136/Chicago_Evening_Post_1872_07_06_page_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span></span></div></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The residents of Evanston had voted down the prospect of incorporating as a city in 1869, but when it was presented to the voters again on October 19, 1872 Charles J. Gilbert became intimately involved. He felt that incorporation was vital to Evanston's future, so he ran for Village Trustee on a platform to build a municipal water works. This time the citizens approved incorporation not as a city but as a village </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">by a vote of 104 to 37 </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">and Gilbert was elected the first President of the Board of Trustees of the newly-organized Village of Evanston. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In addition to a water works, Gilbert lobbied constantly for Evanston to purchase its own fire engine. In October of 1872 the memories of the Great Chicago Fire of October, 1871 were fresh in everyone's mind. Charles J. Gilbert thought for sure that Evanston was facing its own great conflagration when several buildings caught fire on October 15, 1872 and Gilbert wired this message to Chicago Fire Headquarters at 4:00 AM:</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Send one fire engine and hose pipe half mile. Town burning up.</i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>C.J. Gilbert, Prest. Trustees</i></span></span></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">He sheepishly sent a follow up wire at 5:00 AM:</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Does not seem necessary for your engine now.</i></span></span></span></div></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i> C. J. Gilbert</i></span></span></span></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1872, in addition to his civic duties, Gilbert was elected to the Committee of Appeals of the Chicago Board of Trade, and in 1873 Gilbert served as a Director of the Peoples Loan and Savings Bank:</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGnNRfzhhe_8AQ463V5ZD1xftB_-lEeIZ-QX8THEy0XX2tJK0brPXJOc4cDdOPMSviBhNRgowJB32ihkKQyaiKE0OUiHWZwBk5koMoyoCDrnfZMGc_WwsHpzHIEBWPfqc8tVpkQYCZNsrO-TLeXT5c1IG-Jrroo3bfvwoYpfpztXEr9rUtpppmc9ZoVhXE/s2542/The_Chicago_Evening_Mail_1873_09_08_page_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2542" data-original-width="880" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGnNRfzhhe_8AQ463V5ZD1xftB_-lEeIZ-QX8THEy0XX2tJK0brPXJOc4cDdOPMSviBhNRgowJB32ihkKQyaiKE0OUiHWZwBk5koMoyoCDrnfZMGc_WwsHpzHIEBWPfqc8tVpkQYCZNsrO-TLeXT5c1IG-Jrroo3bfvwoYpfpztXEr9rUtpppmc9ZoVhXE/w222-h640/The_Chicago_Evening_Mail_1873_09_08_page_1.jpg" width="222" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On February 21, 1873, the Gilbert's fourth son and last child, Arthur Eralsamon Gilbert (1873-1893) was born in Evanston. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Water Works issue, as well as other matters of note was still being discussed by the Evanston Board of Trustees as indicated by this article from the Chicago Tribune of April 3, 1873.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9RfpUFa7Nmj_jYcmgdiY_aOmNa3WV-04uLikaJhlvkIDzak7-S8PQm9OESbAjokZDGx2DEPahyphenhyphenMSKkbPX9pL8C6QFYM5FF2jn7GAftqsKD2ld3f5npBQPpSF5tm1VzB9x2Z3h5_koUi6mFIVPqVQdOA3J7_8vl3wS1XlvFnSIl-6J27ajtDiG6TbcPkce/s1187/Chicago_Tribune_1873_04_03_page_2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1187" data-original-width="592" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9RfpUFa7Nmj_jYcmgdiY_aOmNa3WV-04uLikaJhlvkIDzak7-S8PQm9OESbAjokZDGx2DEPahyphenhyphenMSKkbPX9pL8C6QFYM5FF2jn7GAftqsKD2ld3f5npBQPpSF5tm1VzB9x2Z3h5_koUi6mFIVPqVQdOA3J7_8vl3wS1XlvFnSIl-6J27ajtDiG6TbcPkce/w320-h640/Chicago_Tribune_1873_04_03_page_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span>The debate continued and the Trustees decided to put the water works matter to a vote as indicated by this article from the Chicago Tribune from April 15, 1873. Note that C.J. Gilbert was running on the "For Water Works" ticket:</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5j3j06N5d7t61bknGCxLrvGIQsDKlOe1h-4Rhe7MbRQXojfAAygYMb72UMUL-1SvDQ1UzzLo9e-4gdHiBGYQuawIt-pVRHnRDovvaDb-hERenIzr4u5eQCh06IQnzu4iQME5EZn-GP7zLM5bQd0BbDY907ycMr5pP1dJyuZpOms9K-8hnd7Opi7ZLxkbf/s615/Chicago_Tribune_1873_04_15_page_5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="593" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5j3j06N5d7t61bknGCxLrvGIQsDKlOe1h-4Rhe7MbRQXojfAAygYMb72UMUL-1SvDQ1UzzLo9e-4gdHiBGYQuawIt-pVRHnRDovvaDb-hERenIzr4u5eQCh06IQnzu4iQME5EZn-GP7zLM5bQd0BbDY907ycMr5pP1dJyuZpOms9K-8hnd7Opi7ZLxkbf/w363-h376/Chicago_Tribune_1873_04_15_page_5.jpg" width="363" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>The water works was finally approved in February of 1874, and construction was complete </span></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">by the Spring of 1875. In appreciation for his tireless work on behalf of a municipal water works, the first pump was named the C. J. Gilbert. He was also instrumental in the development of the first sewer system in Evanston.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The water works was financed through the sale of stock - 1500 shares at $50.00 each. Subscription to the shares was brisk although it was noted by the Chicago Evening Mail on September 3, 1872 that "...nor has the university (Northwestern) subscribed for any appreciable amount of the stock." Some things never change. Perhaps Evanston should have sold the naming rights to the new water works.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Charles J. Gilbert served two terms as Village President: 1872-74 and 1875-76. His popularity for elected office was surprising because Gilbert was a Democrat, and in those days Evanston was a bastion of the Republican Party.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1874, the house at 1812 Asbury was built, although its address under the old numbering system when built was 816 Asbury. There is some disagreement surrounding the origins of the house. Some sources say the house was built "by Gilbert," and other sources say it was built "for Gilbert." I tend to believe the latter to be true because even though Gilbert was deeply involved in real estate, there is no indication that he was ever a builder or even capable of building a house of that size and scope. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The house is magnificent to say the least. It is said to be a copy of "Belle Grove" Plantation House in Louisiana. There is a resemblance:</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIil7UsoEWXTunIi_7X9q0Ffkuby12pBo8sEZOsCLskWhZ8tVfNGvrGH4FXAK84wlaz_W2ShBqy89TPPVJeSbjHJgK9hnDFIDIzd6YeCsKWsX5dPoiTgeYv6r0oEGgf_tOXBFvyK2UZnrE_24X4-xeQ04Zq6T5DtSHvSyD2z_dBhLQ-1zqfrpGG86d7osJ/s600/Belle%20Grove%20Plantation%20House.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="428" data-original-width="600" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIil7UsoEWXTunIi_7X9q0Ffkuby12pBo8sEZOsCLskWhZ8tVfNGvrGH4FXAK84wlaz_W2ShBqy89TPPVJeSbjHJgK9hnDFIDIzd6YeCsKWsX5dPoiTgeYv6r0oEGgf_tOXBFvyK2UZnrE_24X4-xeQ04Zq6T5DtSHvSyD2z_dBhLQ-1zqfrpGG86d7osJ/w274-h196/Belle%20Grove%20Plantation%20House.jpg" width="274" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Belle Grove</td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1865" data-original-width="2351" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaILcopLeEzaNW6BSJ8cakdN8TjhRva_N8EMjVpzlEfQxCx8sLGRGiEUbnwCrq7X0Bxem1-_pjjPe-2EYFoYUAx2LJyeD71Rn1ouTPt4b8WSIprYqdQ7azGrlrayKd9-50xdp-FNO6_2ko4Dj6NNCy0pGmzI77edrfkdbav52SgeeFdPo01EkihTo1qyE6/w251-h200/1812%20Asbury.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="251" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1812 Asbury</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">It has obviously changed from when Gilbert owned it, but just to give you a taste here is today's description:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Magnificent 1874 Estate Home with almost 10,000 square feet of living space on over 3/4 acre. Once in a generation opportunity to own this stunning home and grounds in premier designated Evanston landmark location originally built for the first president of the Evanston Village Board, John (sic) Gilbert. You are greeted by a brick front porch spanning the entire width of the house. Timeless details throughout including 8 total fireplaces. Grand living room with 14' ceilings. Family room with gas fireplace. Formal dining room. The breakfast room off the kitchen overlooks the glorious, landscaped yard. Elegant primary suite with private bathroom. Three more generous bedrooms, bathroom, office, exercise room, large balcony and an open porch the entire width of the house complete the second floor. Expansive third floor has a recreation/play room, billiards room, living room, small kitchen, bedroom and bathroom. The lower level has a separate suite with kitchen/bedroom/living room, another bedroom, bathroom and abundant storage. Stunning professional landscaping. Fabulous location. </i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;">Just in case you are tempted, the current asking price is $1.8 million and the annual real estate taxes run $38,000.00.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">A fitting home for Charles J. Gilbert, said to be "one of the wealthiest men in the Village."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Gilbert's father Eralsalmon Gilbert died on October 16, 1877 in Evanston. He was seventy-five years old. Here is his Death Notice from the Chicago Inter Ocean of October 16, 1877:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirH6MPfCWGw_R2ByEO8ipy7ROdZ9HZ6W4iQLiQeIQDcj10djj00j2mN0XEE8smfPZvtIBIFLNNZu1LPhbweMmrqRxYVxa9rAN5843u6IUWchHitiN4zL-sC5ZVwsYiq5RTuI6jjV3VHhcmUndnVYRivvNsuhAg4Kona_m1FNutgV9RoZJ1II5Fw20iTWqN/s878/Gilbert,%20Eralsamon%20Death%20Notice%20-%20The_Inter_Ocean_1877_10_16_Page_8.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="286" data-original-width="878" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirH6MPfCWGw_R2ByEO8ipy7ROdZ9HZ6W4iQLiQeIQDcj10djj00j2mN0XEE8smfPZvtIBIFLNNZu1LPhbweMmrqRxYVxa9rAN5843u6IUWchHitiN4zL-sC5ZVwsYiq5RTuI6jjV3VHhcmUndnVYRivvNsuhAg4Kona_m1FNutgV9RoZJ1II5Fw20iTWqN/w400-h130/Gilbert,%20Eralsamon%20Death%20Notice%20-%20The_Inter_Ocean_1877_10_16_Page_8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">He is buried in the family plot in Rosehill Cemetery:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXuHai7ttONotVn34qX_bHO8Uhh94by2Kpw3-7O37ji3o7XqhlE4qpgnB5Gc4QYQeLh3etKLpanacEk6cC_usdHIVO91YcQ_hCreETgo_-K-HHIOIhyphenhyphenozMtqJGWARNLXoXDbCIqCUFHO2M01IfZqWQMpn5pImRfePIVmG9NFqe3Bg9WxYZc9ZbKGJx2cBX/s4004/Gilbert,%20Eralsamon%20Tombstone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2456" data-original-width="4004" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXuHai7ttONotVn34qX_bHO8Uhh94by2Kpw3-7O37ji3o7XqhlE4qpgnB5Gc4QYQeLh3etKLpanacEk6cC_usdHIVO91YcQ_hCreETgo_-K-HHIOIhyphenhyphenozMtqJGWARNLXoXDbCIqCUFHO2M01IfZqWQMpn5pImRfePIVmG9NFqe3Bg9WxYZc9ZbKGJx2cBX/s320/Gilbert,%20Eralsamon%20Tombstone.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX-hRUzjiGP0zRe-1qUxyOm3u2lyzbIFoOtmlq_rGexuMlBY4bmu9b7JECZNYUh5ianphaB0-5cScTzT1ag59Pz74tlJEAg05WM9lVji68rlS6ffRPS-fJz1VjS_D6rdGRq_rolVnMJzU7j7lqEQ12aKkBLqOoV4b4mM6anXP44mdib1gerXr-QpMUMDrg/s1613/Gilbert-Goodridge%20Plot%20@%20Rosehill%2012.15.2023.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1210" data-original-width="1613" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX-hRUzjiGP0zRe-1qUxyOm3u2lyzbIFoOtmlq_rGexuMlBY4bmu9b7JECZNYUh5ianphaB0-5cScTzT1ag59Pz74tlJEAg05WM9lVji68rlS6ffRPS-fJz1VjS_D6rdGRq_rolVnMJzU7j7lqEQ12aKkBLqOoV4b4mM6anXP44mdib1gerXr-QpMUMDrg/w640-h480/Gilbert-Goodridge%20Plot%20@%20Rosehill%2012.15.2023.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1880 US Census finds the Charles Gilbert family living in the Village of Evanston, Illinois. The family consisted of: Charles J. (51 years old), Jane (46), Elia (18), Charles (16), Fred (14), and Arthur (7). In addition there was niece O. Mamie Queen (17), mother Keziah Gilbert (76), and sister Jane Gilbert (38). Charles said he was a "Grain Commissioner," Jane was "House Keeping," and the children were in school. No occupation was presented for Keziah or Jane. The 1880 Census contained a category called "Sick." Charles Gilbert indicated to the census taker that he was "sick" without providing any details. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Late in 1880 Charles Gilbert left the Board of Trade and all his future efforts were applied to real estate. He became especially interested in real estate development. He laid out the Mont Joie subdivision in Evanston - 30 acres in the vicinity of Emerson and Wesley and even directed where each tree should be planted in the subdivision. You can see the Mont Joie subdivision on this plat of the area along with where Gilbert's own home was at 816 Asbury - under the old numbering system:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmh-MZ-hoLLrg2SB9pvoJ9_WyKxTa2kXugvmwbByQxcRsO3bOjsyiJwjD7vX7tPtoIUs1b4P50Fx4vIYxMAI6bNp1JBziDziyYsLDhfJn4U9nWc_DVdPGba7bzMsc0VoHq8ssCYTh_TFZMcQ_xupWa4fkodhi9mDbg4RT1fY2sGiiAx2hu_PrhP1hs7r2Q/s2195/Plat%20Marked.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1452" data-original-width="2195" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmh-MZ-hoLLrg2SB9pvoJ9_WyKxTa2kXugvmwbByQxcRsO3bOjsyiJwjD7vX7tPtoIUs1b4P50Fx4vIYxMAI6bNp1JBziDziyYsLDhfJn4U9nWc_DVdPGba7bzMsc0VoHq8ssCYTh_TFZMcQ_xupWa4fkodhi9mDbg4RT1fY2sGiiAx2hu_PrhP1hs7r2Q/w467-h309/Plat%20Marked.jpg" width="467" /></a></div><br /> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Here is one of the ads Gilbert ran about Mont Joie from the Chicago Tribune:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj7arEeccDDcT765XbtlSuF-8u1GLtlX5Qv1zQsS4hMHHdtp3QiMiTWT49z1w5ZHRHWKExIYqTPMjRz0zYYA1l8TW7-S4M8NIOahCgsdezeVxCywSjsCA7teK4E4D4F75-MzAgPP5QcsCfP9ZSi7yxAG_z_Au0BfMMR3XAWgrCSltJt4kuyugM_D-P_6zR/s848/Chicago_Tribune_1889_02_03_page_20.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="848" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj7arEeccDDcT765XbtlSuF-8u1GLtlX5Qv1zQsS4hMHHdtp3QiMiTWT49z1w5ZHRHWKExIYqTPMjRz0zYYA1l8TW7-S4M8NIOahCgsdezeVxCywSjsCA7teK4E4D4F75-MzAgPP5QcsCfP9ZSi7yxAG_z_Au0BfMMR3XAWgrCSltJt4kuyugM_D-P_6zR/w640-h202/Chicago_Tribune_1889_02_03_page_20.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Charles J. Gilbert's wife, </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;">Jane "Jennie" Lucinda Goodridge Gilbert died at Evanston, Illinois on March 3, 1888. She was fifty-three years old, and had been ill for some time.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;">Here is her Death Notice from the Chicago Tribune of March 5, 1888:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3wpi1NdGVEuA-PTFGCuVAfDrhin9o5iP1q-v_TV8tKjNrNkjoo1UtVJK0ux1OY8vrbRMURyu7RoDaJb_ymYP3AbxDMFSBw6zUKyl1qWvGdeO0oK20aaYKGFtEbyEXf6V7PrITojV1vmQf-CQy4A0V0F5lhL5JGWpv-ymfE5STXJUIwEgoAcU7M0ym-AQI/s888/Chicago_Tribune_1888_03_05_page_8.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="187" data-original-width="888" height="84" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3wpi1NdGVEuA-PTFGCuVAfDrhin9o5iP1q-v_TV8tKjNrNkjoo1UtVJK0ux1OY8vrbRMURyu7RoDaJb_ymYP3AbxDMFSBw6zUKyl1qWvGdeO0oK20aaYKGFtEbyEXf6V7PrITojV1vmQf-CQy4A0V0F5lhL5JGWpv-ymfE5STXJUIwEgoAcU7M0ym-AQI/w400-h84/Chicago_Tribune_1888_03_05_page_8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">She too is buried in the family plot, Section 2, Lot 3 of Rosehill Cemetery:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcQ2PMwKgy1s0XeSjN3zv9SE4ApYKdk5U6s2Ylkl_amVSEeGyFEzH1MTEpHIoGN2QqIK5MJXDyRyb_DZb5JOslPoWrazhrBt8cw37eOlkPMLCELRSOmbRF6dt3weE26Sz0vCTSRw0-hGWk0YecjPdR2J3bivAd_SxkhtKv-5sgf4fx_xJujt42-8fnA6ny/s3279/Gilbert,%20Jane.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2340" data-original-width="3279" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcQ2PMwKgy1s0XeSjN3zv9SE4ApYKdk5U6s2Ylkl_amVSEeGyFEzH1MTEpHIoGN2QqIK5MJXDyRyb_DZb5JOslPoWrazhrBt8cw37eOlkPMLCELRSOmbRF6dt3weE26Sz0vCTSRw0-hGWk0YecjPdR2J3bivAd_SxkhtKv-5sgf4fx_xJujt42-8fnA6ny/w400-h285/Gilbert,%20Jane.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHyR_uvtCMBHz28vhEWMVmMARpiCap_sfp0MUnbYJkzW1tGPeQe_NPBJ0gX8t3pO7QGMXYDldsBq8UkuCBNcgY5ArjJKvJ3NwFPbZQyBpU4qUiOWugAvMrVEtQv3R_9zviWcFomNmDSif3KJBI9dkVHoIoaEDOvSwfeACiSsioTMkmSbSCyejn_yP6OXqD/s1613/Gilbert-Goodridge%20Plot%20@%20Rosehill%2012.15.2023.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1210" data-original-width="1613" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHyR_uvtCMBHz28vhEWMVmMARpiCap_sfp0MUnbYJkzW1tGPeQe_NPBJ0gX8t3pO7QGMXYDldsBq8UkuCBNcgY5ArjJKvJ3NwFPbZQyBpU4qUiOWugAvMrVEtQv3R_9zviWcFomNmDSif3KJBI9dkVHoIoaEDOvSwfeACiSsioTMkmSbSCyejn_yP6OXqD/w640-h480/Gilbert-Goodridge%20Plot%20@%20Rosehill%2012.15.2023.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The Evanston Index Newspaper printed a front-page tribute to Jane Gilbert in their edition of March 10, 1888:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>To Better Lands Above.</i></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Last Saturday death came almost as a welcome friend and brought relief from many years of suffering to Jennie Lucinda Gilbert, the</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> beloved wife of Charles J. Gilbert, one of the old residents of Evanston. She was the daughter of Allen and Lauretta Ransom Goodridge, and was born at East Townsend, Vt., August 15, 1834. She leaves surviving and mourning the loss of her they so dearly loved, a husband and four children. Bred in the beautiful faith of the symbolic church of the New Jerusalem, her life was beautiful in the extreme. She was one of the purest, whitest souls with whom God has blessed the earth. Surrounded by the comforts and elegancies of life her heart and hand were ever reaching out to those whom misfortune had made sufferers. She was gentle and </span>unostentatious<span style="font-family: inherit;"> in the multitude of her charitable deeds. In her own home circle, she was the bright angel who shed the soft radiance of her love, tenderness and sympathy upon all. The glory of her womanhood was as splendid as her life was pure and spotless. Passing through nature to eternity she wore the robes of queenly duty. Her's was a life of devotion to children and husband. And now that she has withdrawn like a star from his mortal eye, each idea of her life will creep sweetly to his imagination more precious and beautiful to the prospect of his soul than when she lived on earth. It pleased Providence to permit great pain and suffering to encompass her closing years. With Christian fortitude she bore in till death came - the gentle end of her human sorrows. We love the sacred dust, but we love the beautiful life still more. The load of care and the cup of sorrow has passed from her, and the voice of love and the song of gladness greets her spirit life. </span>Perennial<span style="font-family: inherit;"> flowers bloom in her pathway, and God's sunshine lights her way forever. The beauty of spring, the splendor of summer, the glory of autumn and the uncrowned majesty of winter are all mingled into one endless day of light and love. Night has covered her with its stars, but morning has broken with heaven's earliest light.</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div><i>Beyond the parting and the meeting</i></div></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div><i>I shall be soon;</i></div></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div><i>Beyond the farewell and the greeting,</i></div></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div><i>Beyond the pulse's fever-beating,</i></div></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div><i>I shall be soon.</i></div></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div><i>Love, rest, and home! Sweet hope!</i></div></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div><i>Lord, tarry not, but come.</i></div></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Beyond the frost-chain and the fever</i></span></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div><i>I shall be soon;</i></div></span></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div><i>Beyond the rock-waste and the river,</i></div></span></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div><i>Beyond the ever and the never,</i></div></span></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div><i>I shall be soon.</i></div></span></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div><i>Love, rest, and home! Sweet hope!</i></div></span></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div><i>Lord, tarry not, but come.</i></div></span></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mrs. Gilbert's illness dates back from her return from the Centennial celebration in 1876. While in Philadelphia, stopping at a house filled with sewer gas, she contracted a disease that developed into typhoid fever, completely wrecking her constitution. She lived through a term of thirty-seven days, a time almost without precedent without nourishment. Apoplexy was said to be the final cause of her </span>decease<span style="font-family: inherit;">. </span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><i>The funeral services, which were conducted by the Rev. L. P. Mercer, pastor on the New Church Temple, Chicago, weer held at the family residence on Asbury Avenue at 2 o'clock Tuesday afternoon, and were witnessed by a large assemblage of mourning friends. The pall-bearers were Messers. Thomas Lord, H. B. Hurd, J. M. Lyons, H. W. Hinsdale, George W. Muir, and J. R. Fitch. </i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">It appears that living in the house he had shared with his late wife was too painful for Charles Gilbert. Evanston City Directories for 1889 and 1890 show Charles Gilbert as a Boarder in the Avenue House Hotel in downtown Evanston. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Charles J. Gilbert married for the second time in Manhattan, New York on April 29, 1890 to Charlotte E. Dwyer. The groom was sixty-one; the bride was fifty.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Charlotte E. Mish (1839-1904) was born November 19, 1839 in Pennsylvania. She was the widow of Edward P. Dwyer, a wholesale druggist.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Charles J. Gilbert sold the magnificent home at 816 (1812) Asbury to patent attorney James H. Raymond in May of 1892. The sale was so noteworthy that it even made the Chicago Tribune of May 22, 1892:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhsL_pok2i-b1WRrs0sn5zAG07T0qGzPOvQsXyPHkORvDdm7V2BUJRia3l0md7WS9yPQ4M4e30wJLJvIoHcHTgy1FGkCljqvN4Eoxcd9DW-LJ4tky-JKU3opIjjEMxKMlQJzKkggTEoz0peJ48KpA4qRE1NJ9eZTWCLf_VmFdvmqTt6hJIhv_9SxOQ_Cg-/s906/Chicago_Tribune_1892_05_22_page_35.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="107" data-original-width="906" height="77" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhsL_pok2i-b1WRrs0sn5zAG07T0qGzPOvQsXyPHkORvDdm7V2BUJRia3l0md7WS9yPQ4M4e30wJLJvIoHcHTgy1FGkCljqvN4Eoxcd9DW-LJ4tky-JKU3opIjjEMxKMlQJzKkggTEoz0peJ48KpA4qRE1NJ9eZTWCLf_VmFdvmqTt6hJIhv_9SxOQ_Cg-/w640-h77/Chicago_Tribune_1892_05_22_page_35.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Why did Gilbert sell the idyllic home he had had built in 1874? He hadn't lived there since his wife died in 1888. Perhaps there were too many memories of his late wife. Or perhaps he did not need all that room, as his children grew up and moved out of the homestead. Or perhaps the second Mrs. Gilbert did not like living in the shadow of the first Mrs. Gilbert. Of course that is all speculation but the fact remains that the house was sold in 1892. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Charles Gilbert's youngest son, Arthur Eralsamon Gilbert died June 1, 1893 in Evanston, He was twenty years old. Here is his Death Notice from the Chicago Inter Ocean of June 2, 1893:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgyZsoSjvienkn9J5AbqtudofHr_5UiEWf72X0TjlAPTHSz70YJtg7sCbAKO_0Izyc0uFu_F33MXnpEzMIDiyas-6T6nvBE3M_1K2aD5APLBcRTzP8nD_UTOO_hQUmPee9hda6FiGpflEH98hNnwi2_d2hB79u2TLmFMMOfjDseJJveYjKYpB6syiufKC/s814/The_Inter_Ocean_1893_06_02_Page_2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="301" data-original-width="814" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgyZsoSjvienkn9J5AbqtudofHr_5UiEWf72X0TjlAPTHSz70YJtg7sCbAKO_0Izyc0uFu_F33MXnpEzMIDiyas-6T6nvBE3M_1K2aD5APLBcRTzP8nD_UTOO_hQUmPee9hda6FiGpflEH98hNnwi2_d2hB79u2TLmFMMOfjDseJJveYjKYpB6syiufKC/w400-h148/The_Inter_Ocean_1893_06_02_Page_2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">He was buried amidst all his relatives in the family plot at Rosehill:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq1DULuFiCKy0cEYjZUYx-0KZZdU07S5G1HnsJ2IWjpb4SneLBIPSptpCaiGMPaELWdo9c1slBhg-Vm8lNtjeoLcfdb80lAq8rOAJEYuvAFnKCr7Ay2dW4AN_aUC1U-DCsYkAiPtrpXQk_OgRpxsDR7N9y2E-6KqvzMnKfuFEAXK05I_Q0F3SXk9ltdnZQ/s4015/Gilbert,%20arthur%20Headstone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2257" data-original-width="4015" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq1DULuFiCKy0cEYjZUYx-0KZZdU07S5G1HnsJ2IWjpb4SneLBIPSptpCaiGMPaELWdo9c1slBhg-Vm8lNtjeoLcfdb80lAq8rOAJEYuvAFnKCr7Ay2dW4AN_aUC1U-DCsYkAiPtrpXQk_OgRpxsDR7N9y2E-6KqvzMnKfuFEAXK05I_Q0F3SXk9ltdnZQ/w400-h225/Gilbert,%20arthur%20Headstone.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAwxgIvJ1V9kGnqSr4WLv0rCUOtB6OcXy1TVQ1otjGCg3_h2g-CR3GxQArlevYKGyhzHqOHXdXtXld4ZYt8RI5GgYakfPajNsaghTK1Zw5RFvKXqVISMVCN4z5TRPPOHx6s260TS-7G4R7MTVTvuyQbs6GrvaNkRlw1BiGXkxLt7Mcvn1IW8kGb52UGpRL/s1613/Gilbert-Goodridge%20Plot%20@%20Rosehill%2012.15.2023.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1210" data-original-width="1613" height="491" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAwxgIvJ1V9kGnqSr4WLv0rCUOtB6OcXy1TVQ1otjGCg3_h2g-CR3GxQArlevYKGyhzHqOHXdXtXld4ZYt8RI5GgYakfPajNsaghTK1Zw5RFvKXqVISMVCN4z5TRPPOHx6s260TS-7G4R7MTVTvuyQbs6GrvaNkRlw1BiGXkxLt7Mcvn1IW8kGb52UGpRL/w654-h491/Gilbert-Goodridge%20Plot%20@%20Rosehill%2012.15.2023.jpg" width="654" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Chicago Inter Ocean printed an article about his funeral in their edition of June 4, 1893:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSc6TkUA4_drOH7ydJsyDxpLUqoUav37gVUMepOF2jMWIIkH551wrHlN47siK5dHIlVihETNHSTBRrx58H-uPw8U5fQFg0AdH-4Xk3lR3PfAthWn2HHxI8lJkBb5QUJl4F1LLGbhEhR458xp4VkiYWWqZZuYpE686XvCn1GxfVKcHU04fLHmM8npP0i1B/s814/The_Inter_Ocean_1893_06_04_Page_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="431" data-original-width="814" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSc6TkUA4_drOH7ydJsyDxpLUqoUav37gVUMepOF2jMWIIkH551wrHlN47siK5dHIlVihETNHSTBRrx58H-uPw8U5fQFg0AdH-4Xk3lR3PfAthWn2HHxI8lJkBb5QUJl4F1LLGbhEhR458xp4VkiYWWqZZuYpE686XvCn1GxfVKcHU04fLHmM8npP0i1B/w400-h211/The_Inter_Ocean_1893_06_04_Page_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Charles Gilbert's mother, Keziah Leavenworth Gilbert died in Chicago on February 6, 1895. She was ninety years old. Here is her Death Notice from the Chicago Tribune of February 8, 1895:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvCnSzk1J_oYMvEnpb8RG4SsFqG9CegVoZn55r624coH4En7-H_jMvHUBQy3ok-VexlfYa3st-xbkucM2LIvvijG4cbVEXXLf-1e2MODP6u3ggrQ4tNt1aQJzo_MBmoME-99Fqt2dMdVjSTn0TNjBfo5CmysQ_vICbybc-GccdZ7Itlj6dDrFGurke9_zj/s822/Gilbert,%20Keziah%20Death%20Notice%20-%20Chicago_Tribune_1895_02_08_page_8.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="108" data-original-width="822" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvCnSzk1J_oYMvEnpb8RG4SsFqG9CegVoZn55r624coH4En7-H_jMvHUBQy3ok-VexlfYa3st-xbkucM2LIvvijG4cbVEXXLf-1e2MODP6u3ggrQ4tNt1aQJzo_MBmoME-99Fqt2dMdVjSTn0TNjBfo5CmysQ_vICbybc-GccdZ7Itlj6dDrFGurke9_zj/w655-h86/Gilbert,%20Keziah%20Death%20Notice%20-%20Chicago_Tribune_1895_02_08_page_8.jpg" width="655" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">She was buried in the family plot at Rosehill Cemetery:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgar6K1DVdILyyx8-SSKOTYnV7YmIb4SIhIMYsp9Exo9d3Vu6Vp0mlCgEMxcLBVgqDn-0zC-WW8PT35-UPdAUC8mCDb3HBiGJ_49UjqJfiCddaTNoqkNSHyuCGAYaCwrpCog126LixV568fH3VMF5zjUDhEc68IUg9i-HnAeQ2kuL84jC2a1-5lcZhFeaDZ/s4928/Gilbert,%20Keziah%20Tombstone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="4928" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgar6K1DVdILyyx8-SSKOTYnV7YmIb4SIhIMYsp9Exo9d3Vu6Vp0mlCgEMxcLBVgqDn-0zC-WW8PT35-UPdAUC8mCDb3HBiGJ_49UjqJfiCddaTNoqkNSHyuCGAYaCwrpCog126LixV568fH3VMF5zjUDhEc68IUg9i-HnAeQ2kuL84jC2a1-5lcZhFeaDZ/w400-h265/Gilbert,%20Keziah%20Tombstone.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI0eRzglhpnTJDqsbEx8plvyWhhqHzKGDfxLLey56sh_57Eij9e0WlAKgyZsvY70ILmZjOvL43XWbuyhvlBMLDVg_4EuRdyw4kchGntOkYTAfNWpdHF0cL_5jGQ2CC42MiF1St8i9wsKepIfC25y7bWgwx-8HItYpOfIp0X5suirdGW-3av6c1P_nWdcJA/s1613/Gilbert-Goodridge%20Plot%20@%20Rosehill%2012.15.2023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1210" data-original-width="1613" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI0eRzglhpnTJDqsbEx8plvyWhhqHzKGDfxLLey56sh_57Eij9e0WlAKgyZsvY70ILmZjOvL43XWbuyhvlBMLDVg_4EuRdyw4kchGntOkYTAfNWpdHF0cL_5jGQ2CC42MiF1St8i9wsKepIfC25y7bWgwx-8HItYpOfIp0X5suirdGW-3av6c1P_nWdcJA/w640-h480/Gilbert-Goodridge%20Plot%20@%20Rosehill%2012.15.2023.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1899 Gilbert sold the larger portion of his real estate in Evanston and went with his wife to California for the winter. Upon his return he did not engage in much business, even though he maintained an office in downtown Evanston. At that time Gilbert was said to be worth $150,000.00 ($5.5 million in today's funds). </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The 1900 US Census of the greatly reduced Charles Gilbert family was taken on June 14, 1900. It shows "empty-nesters" Charles and Charlotte Gilbert living at 1300 Davis Street in Evanston:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2WTIpBUcKYdxscOXn71dLs9enzN-6NnizB_g-boPH1eMNGHMvWpdpXkjLVXY7gGXL-7y94Mr5N79jdaWM4U9wABAQnEmO9QFa80lsFyi3gMaZAIvtmpW2RoKTjKS1V4GAFyEzOHmuqviKfxfjAqjNdk7SSuTdkQLlnT_msAC_keV8hYJYoHx6i6xrz20l/s667/1300%20Davis%20Street.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="448" data-original-width="667" height="327" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2WTIpBUcKYdxscOXn71dLs9enzN-6NnizB_g-boPH1eMNGHMvWpdpXkjLVXY7gGXL-7y94Mr5N79jdaWM4U9wABAQnEmO9QFa80lsFyi3gMaZAIvtmpW2RoKTjKS1V4GAFyEzOHmuqviKfxfjAqjNdk7SSuTdkQLlnT_msAC_keV8hYJYoHx6i6xrz20l/w486-h327/1300%20Davis%20Street.jpg" width="486" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1300 Davis Street, Evanston, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Charles said he was born in New York in April of 1829, making him seventy-one years old. Charlotte said she was born in Pennsylvania in November of 1839, making her sixty-one. Charles listed his occupation as "Real Estate Agent." They stated that they had been married ten years. Charlotte said she had given birth to six children, but only two were living in 1900. None of those were Charles' children. They also said they rented their home, and that it was not a farm.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Charles J. Gilbert died suddenly on September 7, 1900 by falling head-first down a flight of stairs and fracturing his skull on a concrete floor.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Here is the story combined from several sources. September 7, 1900 was a Friday. On Friday evening at about 6:45 PM, Charles Gilbert visited his friend G. P. Mills in Mills' drug store at Davis Street and Maple Avenue, where Bennison's Bakery is today. Gilbert was on his way home. After exchanging a few words, they headed downstairs, Mills in the lead to turn on the electric lights. Mr. Gilbert followed and was at the head of the stairs when Mills had reached the bottom. In some way or other Gilbert's foot missed the upper step and he fell forward hitting his head on the concrete flooring. Mr. Mills hastily turned on the light and found Gilbert lying unconscious with a deep gash at the rear of his skull. Seeing that Gilbert was seriously wounded he immediately called Dr. Park who said that Gilbert was unlikely to recover from his injury. The ambulance was called and Gilbert was removed to Evanston Hospital where he passed away an hour later without ever regaining consciousness. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">From the minute Mr. Gilbert was inside the hospital the administration was swamped with people asking about</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Gilbert's condition. In fact, many came to the hospital and were at his bedside when he passed away. Included was Mrs. Gilbert who had been notified and was also at her husband's bedside when he died.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The Chicago Tribune published a comprehensive article on the funeral on September 9, 1900:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRSWf0hsZkVPiiDjHdnG1FDNc9yPp8YibNDHPfuY0bY3zITdGRqW_eh11nD53FdX25LmMLsL4S9CBui3gv1jPL-lTrYus8zlTeofTE2BNGKB9vzezUNVBNVwXTbhkxk5JaXtzysnE-GvA3WuUWDm0mGE65yNGaouHx0yVd49wyfNl8VrBeSfcV2LKCYs0F/s3030/Chicago_Tribune_1900_09_09_page_8.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3030" data-original-width="906" height="1206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRSWf0hsZkVPiiDjHdnG1FDNc9yPp8YibNDHPfuY0bY3zITdGRqW_eh11nD53FdX25LmMLsL4S9CBui3gv1jPL-lTrYus8zlTeofTE2BNGKB9vzezUNVBNVwXTbhkxk5JaXtzysnE-GvA3WuUWDm0mGE65yNGaouHx0yVd49wyfNl8VrBeSfcV2LKCYs0F/w360-h1206/Chicago_Tribune_1900_09_09_page_8.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Gilbert was buried in the family plot at Rosehill Cemetery in an unmarked grave:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgpmHNeufx4pGSRmj8yziEXtxbsUbDlPml4Clp1iVDJTR1dKKFoh_jgpFbuxvQh648vM_etrZtqGe1MVzTq2Zew3NpVbyl0-JhKlgBSYVeAkBYEFBOIZejVyZH-_OOZMeraErS6P0Kj7yN8HC_9DfpdnwtGuK2hyphenhyphenbbBfHneQchHYz-riYrj84JyRKq-oEC/s1613/Gilbert,%20Charles%20and%20Charlotte.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1210" data-original-width="1613" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgpmHNeufx4pGSRmj8yziEXtxbsUbDlPml4Clp1iVDJTR1dKKFoh_jgpFbuxvQh648vM_etrZtqGe1MVzTq2Zew3NpVbyl0-JhKlgBSYVeAkBYEFBOIZejVyZH-_OOZMeraErS6P0Kj7yN8HC_9DfpdnwtGuK2hyphenhyphenbbBfHneQchHYz-riYrj84JyRKq-oEC/w400-h300/Gilbert,%20Charles%20and%20Charlotte.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYHeajeh9WlndHkBWjPfbyeKiSwjCHhwmq7oIdfV4e0_IivHpMLeSJi7Q-v2yoIXHUJOzEhM64ogSCM0QVry39F7HfaC6bIVg2gNchC6iV2N2_OlLO-Atv2R5mtrXXt2yxgyoBChpKHBUtknzHYAKg3qpgYJoNMmGAWO6g_0NRLeohbYx1_27yXDi8GaMR/s1613/Gilbert-Goodridge%20Plot%20@%20Rosehill%2012.15.2023.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1210" data-original-width="1613" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYHeajeh9WlndHkBWjPfbyeKiSwjCHhwmq7oIdfV4e0_IivHpMLeSJi7Q-v2yoIXHUJOzEhM64ogSCM0QVry39F7HfaC6bIVg2gNchC6iV2N2_OlLO-Atv2R5mtrXXt2yxgyoBChpKHBUtknzHYAKg3qpgYJoNMmGAWO6g_0NRLeohbYx1_27yXDi8GaMR/w640-h480/Gilbert-Goodridge%20Plot%20@%20Rosehill%2012.15.2023.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Charles Gilbert - a man who dedicated his life to making Evanston a better place - may he rest in peace.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5nL1GX5jI4cl7WGGKKdzi8JV6Da3oIenNa_xHCy69lS7-RvOFrDHgY8LXPupblB65zzig1gsN3HuErH6KJNPgxHrIGX4sLr728Q6wtvVP0MUE5RyLzNJiTAW0rdz4Ii-c7jpFuJRw0BnJ0Ky0BAYznfyx74lNhidwct1WQJDEQOIagnXd1EoimOfLJIrD/s373/Gilbert,%20Charles.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="373" data-original-width="276" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5nL1GX5jI4cl7WGGKKdzi8JV6Da3oIenNa_xHCy69lS7-RvOFrDHgY8LXPupblB65zzig1gsN3HuErH6KJNPgxHrIGX4sLr728Q6wtvVP0MUE5RyLzNJiTAW0rdz4Ii-c7jpFuJRw0BnJ0Ky0BAYznfyx74lNhidwct1WQJDEQOIagnXd1EoimOfLJIrD/s320/Gilbert,%20Charles.JPG" width="237" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><u><b>Charles Gilbert's Unmarked Grave</b></u></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">As I mentioned above, Charles Gilbert's grave in Section 2, Lot 3 of Rosehill Cemetery is not marked. I have been doing grave photography now for over twenty years and the biggest surprise I have gotten is how many graves are unmarked. I would say conservatively that in <u>at least</u> 1/3 of the grave photo requests I get the graves are unmarked. I understand this. In some cases markers were erected that could not survive Chicago's harsh climates and just disintegrated. In other cases it is financial - after the family pays for the expenses from departed's last illness, and pays for a funeral, a cemetery plot and the grave opening and closing, there is often no money left for a marker for the grave. But this is not the case with Charles Gilbert - he was considered one of Evanston's wealthiest men. With the exceptions of Charles and his second wife, all of the other graves in the Gilbert Family plot have markers. Not only was Charles Gilbert wealthy, he was renowned as one of the pioneers of Evanston, and its first Village President. It is terrible that Charles Gilbert has been resting in an unmarked grave for over one hundred years. If any of Gilbert's descendents are reading this, how about coughing up enough money to have his grave marked by next year for the 125th anniversary of his passing? If you have his grave marked, I'll arrange a dedication ceremony.</span></span></div></div><p></p>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-7128484882879767882024-02-01T06:15:00.000-08:002024-02-01T06:15:27.317-08:00TOOZE AGAINST BOOZE - Mrs. Fred J. Tooze<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When I was a student at Evanston Township High School one of our assignments was "Interview a Famous Person." With the wisdom of hindsight I can see how ridiculous this assignment was. Very few teenagers have access to a famous person, and few famous people have the time (or the inclination) to be interviewed by a teenager. I wracked my brain to find a solution - and then it came to me: Mrs. Fred J. Tooze. If you ask "who was Mrs. Fred J. Tooze?" you obviously did not live in Evanston from the 1950s through the 1970s.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Evanston, Illinois is the home of the Womens Christian Temperance Union (WCTU). </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The temperance movement is a social movement promoting temperance or complete abstinence from consumption of alcoholic beverages. Participants in the movement typically criticize alcohol intoxication or promote teetotalism, and its leaders emphasize alcohol's negative effects on people's health, personalities and family lives. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;">Mrs. Fred J. Tooze was the WCTU President from 1959 to 1974. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Why do I refer to her as "Mrs. Fred J. Tooze" instead of her first name "Ruth?" She always referred to herself that way and I didn't even know her first name until I started researching her life. Here is a photo of Mrs. Fred J. Tooze at her desk at the WCTU. As you can see, her nameplate reads "Mrs. Fred J. Tooze."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5C0CJ4H7FQviAu49hVXmt2bzlDykp5LLLBjb65-3pVewiGIAfwdmcbFdxfloRroZMNG3g6RzJ02teAtTkOQC-EdsgqBjSIEEFO1nJcqShuGy6wG0xQwF4joqcKrYzA51Z3aeIxyr1nFTQ0kU_dVPtbW3SOuTMhbwdcEIwcUJMWofy8xF5xT9UC1VZ4WW7/s3107/Tooze,%20Mrs.%20Fred%20J..jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3107" data-original-width="2672" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5C0CJ4H7FQviAu49hVXmt2bzlDykp5LLLBjb65-3pVewiGIAfwdmcbFdxfloRroZMNG3g6RzJ02teAtTkOQC-EdsgqBjSIEEFO1nJcqShuGy6wG0xQwF4joqcKrYzA51Z3aeIxyr1nFTQ0kU_dVPtbW3SOuTMhbwdcEIwcUJMWofy8xF5xT9UC1VZ4WW7/w550-h640/Tooze,%20Mrs.%20Fred%20J..jpg" width="550" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Back to my high school assignment. I decided to try to interview Mrs. Tooze. It is one of the ironies of life that the head of the WCTU had a last name that rhymed with "booze." As much as she loved her husband, I bet she wished his last name had been Smith.</span></p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>I called the WCTU headquarters on Chicago Avenue in Evanston and asked to speak with Mrs. Tooze. I was connected to her secretary. </span><span>I told her why I wished to speak with Mrs. Tooze but her secretary </span><span>told me that she was away. But she said she would have Mrs. Tooze call me when she returned. Frankly I didn't put a lot of faith in the return call.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">To my surprise she called me several days later. She was very nice to me. I told her my assignment and she said "so you think I'm famous?" I said "everyone knows who you are, especially in Evanston." She told me she would send me some literature about her and the WCTU and that should make an interview unnecessary. Let's face it, she didn't want to be interviewed by some high school kid any more than the high school kid wanted to interview her. But she did say at the end of our conversation that if I had any questions after I read the literature that I should feel free to call her. She also said that after reviewing the material if I still felt a face-to-face interview was necessary she would make herself available. I have to say it again: Mrs. Tooze was <u>very</u> nice to me. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So this month I am going to tell you her story. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ruth Elizabeth Tibbets was born December 21, 1901 in Trumansburg, New York to Rev. John Clark Tibbits (1870-1952) and Julia Henrietta Mische (1868-1927). At the time Ruth was born, Rev. Tibbits was the pastor of the Baptist church in Trumansburg. Ruth was the eldest of the three children born to John and Julia Tibbits. Her siblings are Edgar Albert Tibbets (1903-1991) and Neltje Edith Tibbets/Mrs. Pierre Saucy (1907-1995). </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ruth's parents had been married in Syracuse, New York on January 30, 1901. The groom was thirty years old; the bride was thirty-two.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1905 the family relocated to Utica, New York for two years, then to Chester, Connecticut for three years as Rev. Tibbits was called to be the pastor of Baptist churches in different parts of the country.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1910 US Census shows the Tibbits family living on West Main Street in Chester, Connecticut. The family consisted of: J. Clark Tibbits (39 years old), his wife Julia (42) and children Ruth (8), Edgar (7) and Neltje (2). Tibbits reported that he was a "Clergyman" in the "Baptist Church." J. Clark and Julia said they had been married for nine years. </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>They said they lived in a house which they rented and that Ruth and Edgar were attending school. </span><span>Julia reported that she had given birth to three children, and all three were still alive in 1910. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Later in 1910 the family moved to Ipswitch, South Dakota, and in 1912 to Oregon. In 1918 the family finally settled in Salem, Oregon. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Census Taker for the 1920 US Census visited the Tibbets family on January 13, 1920. They were </span><span style="font-size: medium;">living at 190 S. 14th Street in Salem, Oregon:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIOySfJk2kepNA2-UPEFoNUlFu7hC_YJL1p-zEQuTkxbTt021uFHeQ4G4hw024mKNL1esbH51KouuhsjLWj5hT94rz75BbaeVUSStEkJ6Mu8Ckd88jmiYPN_oPVjx9alG3IY6fc637FqUvZ2GGMz7mob0XB_kB1mTtWSWwzhatUXXqRTHLPPlzuHRWrTxI/s650/190%20s%2014th%20street%20salem%20or.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="650" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIOySfJk2kepNA2-UPEFoNUlFu7hC_YJL1p-zEQuTkxbTt021uFHeQ4G4hw024mKNL1esbH51KouuhsjLWj5hT94rz75BbaeVUSStEkJ6Mu8Ckd88jmiYPN_oPVjx9alG3IY6fc637FqUvZ2GGMz7mob0XB_kB1mTtWSWwzhatUXXqRTHLPPlzuHRWrTxI/w400-h338/190%20s%2014th%20street%20salem%20or.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">190 S. 14th Street, Salem, Oregon</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The family consisted of: J. Clark Tibbits (49 years old), Julia M. (51), Ruth (18), Edgar (17), and Neltje (12). The three children were all Attending School, and the entire family could both read and write. Julia said that her parents' native tongue was German. J. Clark reported his occupation as "Clerk for the State Highway Department."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ruth Tibbits graduated from Salem High School in June of 1920. In 1921 she moved to Los Angeles, California and enrolled at the Bible Institute of Los Angeles. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After graduating from the Bible Institute of Los Angeles in 1925 she returned to her family in Salem, Oregon where she, like her father, worked for the Oregon State Highway Commission.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ruth's mother, Julia Mische Tibbits died in Salem, Oregon on December 30, 1926 from chronic cardio-renal disease with the contributing factor of broncho-pneumonia, She was fifty-eight years old. She was cremated at the Portland Crematorium, but I was unable to find any record of where (or if) her cremains were interred. Here is her obituary from the Salem (OR) Statesman Journal of January 2, 1927:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj3E6VEgD8KdpYwZ3fCfuqSHLnt2YJEutPeU8bDZA1mgI-i2Pt3Yh2iTbwWRcL-S1tMEz02STkUsYd79-cyA5lmMlL0MUBnznEa4kpj-tR96H1S7DhS0gHKfwy2_BgduC6Wo4WNx4KAeibJVliYGTuVryeNSPh6LZ5yfQ5qz9A-I4dWbPhjRkBEBk8pbWB/s2846/Statesman_Journal_1927_01_02_Page_3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2846" data-original-width="792" height="1338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj3E6VEgD8KdpYwZ3fCfuqSHLnt2YJEutPeU8bDZA1mgI-i2Pt3Yh2iTbwWRcL-S1tMEz02STkUsYd79-cyA5lmMlL0MUBnznEa4kpj-tR96H1S7DhS0gHKfwy2_BgduC6Wo4WNx4KAeibJVliYGTuVryeNSPh6LZ5yfQ5qz9A-I4dWbPhjRkBEBk8pbWB/w372-h1338/Statesman_Journal_1927_01_02_Page_3.jpg" width="372" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ruth's father remarried on November 14, 1928 in Marion, Oregon to Fannie Alice Baxley Brown (1877-1951). The groom was fifty-eight; the bride was fifty-one.</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1930 US Census saw Ruth living with her father and step-mother at 1985 Fir Street in Salem, Oregon:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6wX3nwx1zDptBp28ybBO1DBQ6bncTBcRTtnrG8rdju1rlCN8VIvJ7XnFWp5v98-TP_RDfYvQ7lHHIAtvounH4-mq_NOhNsy4retmmk3FBEy0MDnmpqXinEc59X7e666mkFBu9pSKlfUMr0YmiNQzlzhayNJ2HlMH79infv-Wz0YAMssd5nV1LZUOF0Efm/s781/1985%20Fir%20Street,%20Salem,%20oregon.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="469" data-original-width="781" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6wX3nwx1zDptBp28ybBO1DBQ6bncTBcRTtnrG8rdju1rlCN8VIvJ7XnFWp5v98-TP_RDfYvQ7lHHIAtvounH4-mq_NOhNsy4retmmk3FBEy0MDnmpqXinEc59X7e666mkFBu9pSKlfUMr0YmiNQzlzhayNJ2HlMH79infv-Wz0YAMssd5nV1LZUOF0Efm/w475-h285/1985%20Fir%20Street,%20Salem,%20oregon.JPG" width="475" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1985 Fir Street, Salem, Oregon</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">The family consisted of John C. Tibbits (59 years old), Fannie A. (52), and Ruth (28). The Tibbits family reported that they owned their home and it was worth $7,000.00 ($132,745.00 today) - although the current estimated value of the home is $725,000.00. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The family owned a radio. Ruth's father reported he was an Insurance Agent, and Ruth said she was a "Stenographer for the State Highway Commission." </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On September 12, 1931 Ruth Tibbits married Fred John Sherman Tooze, Jr. (1900-1977) in Salem, Oregon. The groom was thirty-one; the bride was twenty-nine.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is the announcement of their betrothal from the Salem (OR) Capital Journal of June 20, 1931:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9PhmhmYooq0XqQhmbxWcnfg0cvITgb7gZJiBorNQoFAjeUdupLnIge4ZGOCrpmGq5QaeEWXTxGMY2h6N2n_xUUe-0phW-UgfZdYRWIrzuH-JZP-UbnBXpzqS6GNDqNVJgo_Ke-aASVSqZJdvHptdo-xnfTxY80StuReh7fzfh2EkdW1q9ET7GKie1dPVy/s1674/The_Capital_Journal_1931_06_20_Page_5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1674" data-original-width="906" height="806" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9PhmhmYooq0XqQhmbxWcnfg0cvITgb7gZJiBorNQoFAjeUdupLnIge4ZGOCrpmGq5QaeEWXTxGMY2h6N2n_xUUe-0phW-UgfZdYRWIrzuH-JZP-UbnBXpzqS6GNDqNVJgo_Ke-aASVSqZJdvHptdo-xnfTxY80StuReh7fzfh2EkdW1q9ET7GKie1dPVy/w436-h806/The_Capital_Journal_1931_06_20_Page_5.jpg" width="436" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Fred Tooze, Jr. was born January 17, 1900 is Saline, Michigan to Fred J. Tooze, Sr. (1865-1940) and Emma Louise Frey (1871-1942). Fred Tooze, Sr. was a Teacher and Publisher. In addition to Fred, Jr. the Toozes also had two daughters, Helen Louise/Mrs. Robert Dial Hutchinson (1905-1933) and Annabell Parkmand/Mrs. Dr. Carl George Ashley (1910-1974). </div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">At the time of their marriage, Fred Tooze worked for the Oregon Department of Food and Dairy Products as Sanitary Inspector.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1940 US Census found Ruth and Fred Tooze living with Fred's parents at 816 Mill Street in Salem, Oregon. That address no longer exists. The family consisted of: Fred Tooze, Sr. (74 years old), Emma (68), Fred, Jr. (40), Ruth (38), and grand-children Robert A. Hutchinson (8) and Annabel Hutchinson (6). The grandchildren's mother Helen Louise Tooze Hutchinson had died in 1933 from acute nephritis and pyelitis. She was twenty-seven years old.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fred Tooze Jr. reported his occupation as "bookkeeper for State Department of Agriculture" and Ruth as a "church secretary." Ruth and Fred said they had been living in the same place in 1935.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I think we can safely say that when Ruth Tibbits became Mrs. Fred J. Tooze she had no idea that she would one day be in the national temperance spotlight as being married to a man whose last name rhymes with "booze."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ruth Tibbits officially joined the WCTU in 1931 but she related at the time that it had been a part of her family life for years. Her father was a teetotalling Baptist minister and her mother had been a WCTU organizer.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Once Ruth Tooze became involved with the WCTU she dedicated herself to it 100%. In 1950 she was elected President of the Oregon WCTU. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1950 US Census finds Ruth and Fred Tooze living on their own at 3603 SE Grant Street in Portland, Oregon:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy5mYEziHbG1xEoIo6h-i7Z1ytHLHi9OvsE0gpZDKKtq3latjEO6s8jaWbs684utcAzi-1HZNNRNFIdlIb-b-TuOhYSABosRNWSco9ViPPSrTPtA4OQCF34_cH2JkwkBzVRLlNGyoJStRf6K6XYtwmSaCSSsHneBQzbq4uR2p36pNuXVlToFnQUMOvUuJP/s819/3603%20se%20grant%20street%20portland.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="526" data-original-width="819" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy5mYEziHbG1xEoIo6h-i7Z1ytHLHi9OvsE0gpZDKKtq3latjEO6s8jaWbs684utcAzi-1HZNNRNFIdlIb-b-TuOhYSABosRNWSco9ViPPSrTPtA4OQCF34_cH2JkwkBzVRLlNGyoJStRf6K6XYtwmSaCSSsHneBQzbq4uR2p36pNuXVlToFnQUMOvUuJP/w471-h304/3603%20se%20grant%20street%20portland.JPG" width="471" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3603 SE Grant Street, Portland, Oregon</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was just Fred (50 years old) and Ruth (48). </span><span style="font-size: medium;">Fred said he was a "Salesman for a Correspondence School" and Ruth was "President of a Women's Organization - the WCTU."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ruth's dad, John Clark Tibbits died October 7, 1952 in Salem, Oregon. He was eighty-two years old. His second wife, Fannie Baxley Brown Tibbits had pre-deceased him in 1951. Both are buried in Belcrest Memorial Park in Salem, Oregon:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoefFPtlrw4uywb0zt08KdBOVJYl2L7Jl-X083Ce-qeQIXkmzG7s8DO_lpXrgXZYigSNib-m-8ym3aDtho5BD2L2MLHKmo5SbNP_O-8a3_BUYFJYNxqwl9u-0Ov0MyTnsba8mEEAD7LQ_GgGfyeROS_KUw5yWi657pfBsfFKVvvRfREzNTQonKBEiTesju/s2832/Tibbits,%20John%20Clark.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1717" data-original-width="2832" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoefFPtlrw4uywb0zt08KdBOVJYl2L7Jl-X083Ce-qeQIXkmzG7s8DO_lpXrgXZYigSNib-m-8ym3aDtho5BD2L2MLHKmo5SbNP_O-8a3_BUYFJYNxqwl9u-0Ov0MyTnsba8mEEAD7LQ_GgGfyeROS_KUw5yWi657pfBsfFKVvvRfREzNTQonKBEiTesju/w400-h243/Tibbits,%20John%20Clark.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Clark Tibbits</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKK80rCJ3hREK3r91sICt9oqz8Q8zJbRZ2iQXpkH-qlgcrC9aCPidY4_ADIx2-ZI0tZG7XSHZndv5ffWbgA_Q5frCPI1FlRU6k_frlxTm1UFatjCFk79t7v4pCju9LOxYLT3T7KACv0pUdK3Sy8jzHj2k9JpsPguiXhuISNx2snpyFGfGFou8IhDE7l8Lr/s2426/Tibbits,%20Fannie.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1545" data-original-width="2426" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKK80rCJ3hREK3r91sICt9oqz8Q8zJbRZ2iQXpkH-qlgcrC9aCPidY4_ADIx2-ZI0tZG7XSHZndv5ffWbgA_Q5frCPI1FlRU6k_frlxTm1UFatjCFk79t7v4pCju9LOxYLT3T7KACv0pUdK3Sy8jzHj2k9JpsPguiXhuISNx2snpyFGfGFou8IhDE7l8Lr/w400-h255/Tibbits,%20Fannie.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fannie Alice Tibbits</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Photos courtesy of Find a Grave Volunteer "Ann"</span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mrs. Tooze rose steadily through the ranks of the WCTU, culminating in her being elected president of the national WCTU on September 28, 1959 as reported by the Kansas City (MO) Times of September 29, 1959:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUKLF6VEdtMFqPk2GRSpnqKdkMePFe9ytLtGWUaRv43rXGXzbGve3VdIGxmwUTxUUoA4ANtnFDRMPwQCbnIVmUIpWkSAU_c6JN1FKbKg-ShvWiad971onMdhErdzmAVG-aXwmBWfMdhxQ5ceeAOIi1CyNexgH6OKktY-KT5_Z_oM7opYvt1NHblzyfZ6J/s826/The_Kansas_City_Times_1959_09_29_page_17.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="826" data-original-width="682" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUKLF6VEdtMFqPk2GRSpnqKdkMePFe9ytLtGWUaRv43rXGXzbGve3VdIGxmwUTxUUoA4ANtnFDRMPwQCbnIVmUIpWkSAU_c6JN1FKbKg-ShvWiad971onMdhErdzmAVG-aXwmBWfMdhxQ5ceeAOIi1CyNexgH6OKktY-KT5_Z_oM7opYvt1NHblzyfZ6J/w330-h400/The_Kansas_City_Times_1959_09_29_page_17.jpg" width="330" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXtIK0WPLGqGkx-_bAlB5LP6pifFTKTsR9F3QXJ3zsR3BcRmruHjmpZT_gvucN6CPYLDjksIARGLWA15Dom7BRj0nct7WS04ramBhuYVTBgDY7DTiBCDRDOgdTOpXmVk8Pv-7On4CG6sA7Qb5Zv-0fGRupxPR9V9xifcbWwauskTdCJcD0BinsdB93BJxG/s2576/IMG_8508.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2576" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXtIK0WPLGqGkx-_bAlB5LP6pifFTKTsR9F3QXJ3zsR3BcRmruHjmpZT_gvucN6CPYLDjksIARGLWA15Dom7BRj0nct7WS04ramBhuYVTBgDY7DTiBCDRDOgdTOpXmVk8Pv-7On4CG6sA7Qb5Zv-0fGRupxPR9V9xifcbWwauskTdCJcD0BinsdB93BJxG/w376-h640/IMG_8508.jpg" width="376" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photo Courtesy NWCTU</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It became obvious very early in her tenure that Mrs. Fred J. Tooze was not going to be a president who just stayed quietly in her office. In November of 1959 she openly attacked CBS Television as was recounted in newspapers all around the country. Here is one from the Mansfield (OH) News-Journal of November 24, 1959:</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTLECg7W9bAz4xATDmesBZ4SKgY-7dWAo2mV5GJ43o0Qr8nhuB7IfacHjo-y05tLqBYhKX3BYStNymXlcmuRvvYwNDRPZE5HBBUqd7s1OEy2Zh0HeHwR-FYAdeuK4yKVVh6ulHLVtiZaj_sdPKzdUbjFZS-RmBbKwa3Cmp9_QXeQGjrvdbVQbEYDttKyO/s878/News_Journal_1959_11_24_page_17.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="878" data-original-width="576" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTLECg7W9bAz4xATDmesBZ4SKgY-7dWAo2mV5GJ43o0Qr8nhuB7IfacHjo-y05tLqBYhKX3BYStNymXlcmuRvvYwNDRPZE5HBBUqd7s1OEy2Zh0HeHwR-FYAdeuK4yKVVh6ulHLVtiZaj_sdPKzdUbjFZS-RmBbKwa3Cmp9_QXeQGjrvdbVQbEYDttKyO/w263-h400/News_Journal_1959_11_24_page_17.jpg" width="263" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">She would be spinning in her grave if she could see what is shown on prime-time TV these days.</div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But she didn't stop there. In 1961 she wrote to President-Elect John F. Kennedy deploring the amount of money spent by the US government each year (almost $1 million per year) for liquor for American embassies and diplomatic functions. In 1965 she wrote to President Lyndon B. Johnson asking him to reconsider his plan to add a wine cellar in the White House. It is not know if she ever received a response to either of these letters.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Prohibition had been tried in the USA once before (from 1920-1933) and not only failed but spawned the careers of "bootleggers" like the notorious Al Capone. Mrs. Tooze thought it was time to give Prohibition another try as reported in 1971:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Prohibition has got to come back," says Mrs. Tooze, a tall gray-haired woman who has been associated with the temperance movement for 39 years. "Prohibition," declares Mrs. Tooze, remembering the 18th Amendment and the zenith of her organization's existence, "gave this nation the best years of our life."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Home purchases went up, bank balances increased, life insurance contracts increased, people had a chance to graduate from high school and go on to college because there was no alcoholism disturbing home life."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I wonder what Mrs. Tooze would think of legalized marijuana?</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mrs. Tooze was president of the WCTU from 1959 to 1974. She spent her entire tenure tirelessly working for the elimination of "demon rum" by the three-fold approach of the WCTU: Organization, Education and Legislation. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">How did she describe the success of her efforts? "It's here a little, there a little, You just have to keep hammering away at it." And "I'm not discouraged, though, not at all. After all, Christianity has been going on for a lot longer than we have and there are still a lot of people against that, too." </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There is a book that was published in 1967, the first book where columnist Mike Royko reprinted some of his favorite columns from his many years in Chicago newspaperdom. The very first column he featured in the very first book was a column about Mrs. Tooze. It would be worth your while to check Steve Bartolucci's website describing it:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://roselandchicago1972.substack.com/p/mike-royko-50-years-ago-today-mike">https://roselandchicago1972.substack.com/p/mike-royko-50-years-ago-today-mike</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Scroll down to:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><span face="var(--font_family_headings, var(--font_family_headings_preset, "SF Compact Display", -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol"))" style="background-color: white; color: #404040; font-size: large; font-weight: var(--font_weight_headings_preset, bold); text-align: left;"><b>December 4-5, 1971</b></span></span></div><p></p><h2 class="header-with-anchor-widget" style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgb(59 130 246 / 0.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 #0000; --tw-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; -webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; color: #404040; font-family: var(--font_family_headings, var(--font_family_headings_preset, "SF Compact Display", -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol")); font-size: 1.625em; font-weight: var(--font_weight_headings_preset, bold); line-height: 1.16em; margin: 1em 0px 0.625em; position: relative;"><div class="header-anchor-widget offset-top" id="§december" style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgb(59 130 246 / 0.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 #0000; --tw-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; height: 37.6875px; left: -56px; position: absolute; top: -72px; width: 56px;"><div id="§december-4-5-1971" style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgb(59 130 246 / 0.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 #0000; --tw-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0;"></div><div class="header-anchor-widget-button-container" style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgb(59 130 246 / 0.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 #0000; --tw-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; align-items: center; display: flex; height: 1.2em; left: 0px; position: absolute; top: 72px; width: 40px;"><div class="header-anchor-widget-button" href="https://roselandchicago1972.substack.com/i/44977294/december" style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgb(59 130 246 / 0.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 #0000; --tw-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; align-items: center; border-radius: 50%; cursor: pointer; display: flex; height: 40px; justify-content: center; opacity: 1; width: 40px;"><svg class="header-anchor-widget-icon" fill="none" height="20" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" stroke-width="2" stroke="currentColor" viewbox="0 0 24 24" width="20" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"><path d="M10 13a5 5 0 0 0 7.54.54l3-3a5 5 0 0 0-7.07-7.07l-1.72 1.71"></path><path d="M14 11a5 5 0 0 0-7.54-.54l-3 3a5 5 0 0 0 7.07 7.07l1.71-1.71"></path></svg></div></div></div></h2><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><h3 class="header-with-anchor-widget" style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgb(59 130 246 / 0.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 #0000; --tw-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; -webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; color: #404040; font-family: var(--font_family_headings, var(--font_family_headings_preset, "SF Compact Display", -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol")); font-size: 1.375em; font-weight: var(--font_weight_headings_preset, bold); line-height: 1.16em; margin: 1em 0px 0.625em; position: relative; text-align: center;">The Holiday Spirits of Mrs. Tooze<div class="header-anchor-widget offset-top" id="§the-holiday-spirits-of-mrs-tooze" style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgb(59 130 246 / 0.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 #0000; --tw-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; height: 31.8906px; left: -56px; position: absolute; top: -72px; width: 56px;"><div class="header-anchor-widget-button-container" style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgb(59 130 246 / 0.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 #0000; --tw-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; align-items: center; display: flex; height: 1.2em; left: 0px; position: absolute; top: 72px; width: 40px;"><div class="header-anchor-widget-button" href="https://roselandchicago1972.substack.com/i/44977294/the-holiday-spirits-of-mrs-tooze" style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgb(59 130 246 / 0.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 #0000; --tw-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; align-items: center; border-radius: 50%; cursor: pointer; display: flex; height: 40px; justify-content: center; opacity: 0; width: 40px;"><svg class="header-anchor-widget-icon" fill="none" height="20" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" stroke-width="2" stroke="currentColor" viewbox="0 0 24 24" width="20" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"><path d="M10 13a5 5 0 0 0 7.54.54l3-3a5 5 0 0 0-7.07-7.07l-1.72 1.71"></path><path d="M14 11a5 5 0 0 0-7.54-.54l-3 3a5 5 0 0 0 7.07 7.07l1.71-1.71"></path></svg></div></div></div></h3></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mrs. Tooze did not limit her work to the national WCTU. She was elected twice as First Vice President of the World Women's Christian Temperance Union and also was elected the first woman president of the National Temperance and Prohibition Council. She was also a member of the National Safety Council's Woman's Conference. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mrs. Fred J. Tooze hung up her "White Ribbon" and retired from the WCTU in September of 1974. After her retirement she and her husband stayed in Illinois. They moved to Hoopeston, a small town in Vermillion County near the Indiana border between Bloomington and Champaign. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fred J. Tooze (not Mrs.) died August 28, 1977 in Hoopeston. He is buried in the Danville National Cemetery in Danville, Illinois. Here is a photo of him and of his tombstone:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWXrrdmrDavvNr_yZm3OL7M7VhUoGN5w-B8A-KoaOMT8P-CZYKFNQncGCrRxfEqb6gMmc-84F6Je5JVe6dHQ5_pqvnzRJczQlyzu9YYJwoLPggQIEgq8shl_ZQ8Gx4gMaoYFmXaQSScFeEu3GovoSQZdfz4Ll29J5yPbuGP9xixZ4xUuVSpy2leecDnzIq/s184/Tooze,%20Fred%20J..jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="184" data-original-width="105" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWXrrdmrDavvNr_yZm3OL7M7VhUoGN5w-B8A-KoaOMT8P-CZYKFNQncGCrRxfEqb6gMmc-84F6Je5JVe6dHQ5_pqvnzRJczQlyzu9YYJwoLPggQIEgq8shl_ZQ8Gx4gMaoYFmXaQSScFeEu3GovoSQZdfz4Ll29J5yPbuGP9xixZ4xUuVSpy2leecDnzIq/w182-h320/Tooze,%20Fred%20J..jpeg" width="182" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgy36i8YtYrXPVwqLqNPbkXkfkkChvLcgU-ikG9FuV4vTqw8thQg_Xaqm9_Gt9whtFYaXzeS-xCPgNzg-qfW0T1jl9KKAVzEPSLn2NXk9fSZ5DlFTMNhQi0O5EbUuRJwo_82YQT7vUq09douHWaRSQTBUA4-YaZsyjJM1_F0tBtHB-f7N6s8aq2NH4K2c8f" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1093" data-original-width="2117" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgy36i8YtYrXPVwqLqNPbkXkfkkChvLcgU-ikG9FuV4vTqw8thQg_Xaqm9_Gt9whtFYaXzeS-xCPgNzg-qfW0T1jl9KKAVzEPSLn2NXk9fSZ5DlFTMNhQi0O5EbUuRJwo_82YQT7vUq09douHWaRSQTBUA4-YaZsyjJM1_F0tBtHB-f7N6s8aq2NH4K2c8f=w400-h206" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: right;">Photo Courtesy of Find a Grave Volunteer Dwaine Desselle</div></span><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After Fred's death Ruth returned to Oregon. Both her brother Edgar and her sister Neltje were still alive at that time. Edgar was in Salem and Neltje was in Mount Angel, Oregon.</span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ruth Elizabeth Tibbits Tooze died June 6, 1992 in Silverton, Oregon. She was ninety years old. Here is her obituary from the Salem (OR) Statesman Journal of June 8, 1992:</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjMX306utl4cYTUVyadMVeiS7-uLKOyVuVwiMRmk79MvS5pxzQNmW8glYtKJWRbbunonRk5mDjfvRxaTxjU4VKyS6DxuW4X2n0nSiiv_1Ibj-HCSYJHJyrUlEbST82KYVGo3VQs3zKy8A943E9AfgrIKVkWCbyoDnmD0v6h8oCl8zgfUlQiwotd2jMHs6/s1672/Statesman_Journal_1992_06_08_Page_8.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1672" data-original-width="612" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjMX306utl4cYTUVyadMVeiS7-uLKOyVuVwiMRmk79MvS5pxzQNmW8glYtKJWRbbunonRk5mDjfvRxaTxjU4VKyS6DxuW4X2n0nSiiv_1Ibj-HCSYJHJyrUlEbST82KYVGo3VQs3zKy8A943E9AfgrIKVkWCbyoDnmD0v6h8oCl8zgfUlQiwotd2jMHs6/w234-h640/Statesman_Journal_1992_06_08_Page_8.jpg" width="234" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here is a clipping about her from the Statesman Journal of June 17, 1992:</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjALo_c8wOX4YrHzFOT1JTz4EJ8nyyWcQCSJDxrAOeF0skTIi-3fmL1SUDieOvp5tTRmiYPvgxf2DOQa997NseqHffkB0j_HwQ65ThLmAs3S6n9h-DVIE1KMd5O6wQF8h7IZrJCT-IharNIcUt7Eee6xMZ1rVc-eHdPYAWj5REyVE0P_lR-ciZ8hll1Tv5v/s1278/Statesman_Journal_1992_06_17_Page_15.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1278" data-original-width="1254" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjALo_c8wOX4YrHzFOT1JTz4EJ8nyyWcQCSJDxrAOeF0skTIi-3fmL1SUDieOvp5tTRmiYPvgxf2DOQa997NseqHffkB0j_HwQ65ThLmAs3S6n9h-DVIE1KMd5O6wQF8h7IZrJCT-IharNIcUt7Eee6xMZ1rVc-eHdPYAWj5REyVE0P_lR-ciZ8hll1Tv5v/w628-h640/Statesman_Journal_1992_06_17_Page_15.jpg" width="628" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She is buried in the Belcrest Memorial Park in Salem, Oregon, Section 8, Block 12, Lot 6:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJCu3v3f-GFFgMa6pUs6jSO4ehCBsu6egdaHxOXRXahHMK8HfUvb2cc5mExMwNyNTXmbha_NAGAmCj8-Eq6EHS1T0kIDEZFlQUPoObFDNMZt-5IrckRRDpUHlDpHX2PIc2D3OLXj67g62Y4akMhAD8zwdhRlE-FK69qF6lL2-X9Vuxn6SWjFqMDSkdtfTW/s2787/Tooze,%20Ruth.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2457" data-original-width="2787" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJCu3v3f-GFFgMa6pUs6jSO4ehCBsu6egdaHxOXRXahHMK8HfUvb2cc5mExMwNyNTXmbha_NAGAmCj8-Eq6EHS1T0kIDEZFlQUPoObFDNMZt-5IrckRRDpUHlDpHX2PIc2D3OLXj67g62Y4akMhAD8zwdhRlE-FK69qF6lL2-X9Vuxn6SWjFqMDSkdtfTW/w400-h353/Tooze,%20Ruth.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruth E. Tooze</td></tr></tbody></table><span><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo Courtesy of Find a Grave Volunteer "Ann"</span></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Surprisingly, her tombstone does not say "Mrs. Fred J. Tooze."</span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ruth Tibbits Tooze may be gone, but she is definitely not forgotten. For example, the online site crosswordsolver.io mentions that a popular crossword puzzle clue is: "Mrs. Tooze's Org." to which they are 94% sure the correct answer is "WCTU."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As I said earlier in this article, it is one of life's ironies that the head of the world's largest temperance organization had a last name that rhymes with the slang word for alcoholic beverages. Over the years Mrs. Tooze was kidded about it numerous times. Here is her response from the Miami (FL) Herald of September 8, 1962:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU8Vji_4yIZ2hMjz873DKBxja49VQI6pqtf8SELP0kgxkD9boYquwV983QayhEt3BgSIHAmerIHd5o9oNelga89CBLKXmM-xe9f1BHqczw3Aq0MJNP8L2XEy6vqeYbeQkH12EbrCqxNPDi-5FwHiK0Kleb6QYexFYj8wexRP5RiY2muu6u-lrruXBbiOWi/s1184/The_Miami_Herald_1962_09_08_page_10.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1184" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU8Vji_4yIZ2hMjz873DKBxja49VQI6pqtf8SELP0kgxkD9boYquwV983QayhEt3BgSIHAmerIHd5o9oNelga89CBLKXmM-xe9f1BHqczw3Aq0MJNP8L2XEy6vqeYbeQkH12EbrCqxNPDi-5FwHiK0Kleb6QYexFYj8wexRP5RiY2muu6u-lrruXBbiOWi/w584-h640/The_Miami_Herald_1962_09_08_page_10.jpg" width="584" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />Ruth Elizabeth Tibbits (Mrs. Fred J.) Tooze - tireless crusader for the elimination of alcoholic beverages - may she rest in peace.</span><p></p>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-34025389295889190522024-01-01T04:12:00.000-08:002024-01-04T14:35:07.195-08:00ANOTHER EVANSTON HERO - Firefighter William Frederick Craig<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When I was a little boy, I wanted to be a fireman "when I grew up." I wanted to live in the firehouse, slide down the pole, and ride in the firetruck as it sped toward the fire. I did not, however want to charge into a burning building to rescue people trapped inside. Let's face it, any one of us would gladly run into a burning building to save a member of our family or a good friend. But firefighters put their lives on the line every day just to save perfect (or not so perfect) strangers. I had a friend who was a fireman in the part of Chicago that encompassed many run down and abandoned buildings that used to catch fire on a regular basis. He put his life on the line to save people who quite frankly didn't want to be saved. Not surprisingly I did not pursue my dream of becoming a fireman.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I recently had the privilege of having lunch with a retired Evanston Firefighter. I told him about writing the story of an Evanston firefighter who died in the line of duty - Marty Leoni:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://undereverytombstone.blogspot.com/2012/06/you-is-not-enough-marty-f-leoni-jr.html">https://undereverytombstone.blogspot.com/2012/06/you-is-not-enough-marty-f-leoni-jr.html</a></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Marty was the third Evanston firefighter to die in the line of duty. The first two made the ultimate sacrifice in 1905 in a fire at Dodge Avenue and Dempster Street in the Clayton Mark Pipe Manufacturing Company. Their names were William F. Craig and George Stiles. As far as I have been able to ascertain, I am not related to William Craig, but t</span><span>his month I am going to tell his story. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilvqTi4pie7KzhY7D7-2qvZfMPQyha1uues_uCe7HaiO2vFhyOAaEHSRylgxS_ZTO7zk7FjKfc4kue-TtAxYAFWlFLlr-iBxvYGUlpgTRR-XGnXr6Z2lMyf8UT8qdbTLnWEqoq5lnXwgSy_zfgP8kluk_4dj3JH0Z4KXT1NGAWEsFm0f1wbIXjmsyLryWI/s1269/Craig%20-%20Stiles%20with%20names.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1269" data-original-width="900" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilvqTi4pie7KzhY7D7-2qvZfMPQyha1uues_uCe7HaiO2vFhyOAaEHSRylgxS_ZTO7zk7FjKfc4kue-TtAxYAFWlFLlr-iBxvYGUlpgTRR-XGnXr6Z2lMyf8UT8qdbTLnWEqoq5lnXwgSy_zfgP8kluk_4dj3JH0Z4KXT1NGAWEsFm0f1wbIXjmsyLryWI/w454-h640/Craig%20-%20Stiles%20with%20names.jpg" width="454" /></a></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">William Frederick Craig was born November 25, 1870 in Knox County, Illinois. Knox County is in the western part of Illinois, out toward Iowa. William's parents were John W. Craig (1834-1907) and Elizabeth C. Parmenter (1844-1919). John and Elizabeth were married November 9, 1864 in Knox, Illinois. John Craig was a gunsmith by trade. Specifically, he made percussion rifles and pistols labelled "J. W. Craig" or "J. W. Craig Maker."</span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In addition to William, John and Elizabeth Craig also had a daughter, Mary Emma Craig (1867-1959).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">William does not appear in the 1870 US Census because he was born November 25, 1870 and the census for that area is dated June 6, 1870. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">William F. Craig makes his first appearance in the 1880 US Census. The John Craig family was living in Kirkwood, Illinois. The family consisted of Jno W. (46 years old), Elizabeth T. (36), Emma (13), and Wm. F. (10). John Craig listed his occupation as "Gunsmith", Elizabeth was "Keeping House" and Emma and William were "at Home." They also told the census taker that Emma and William were attending school.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1890 US Census for this area is of course, lost. In about 1890, twenty-year-old William Craig took his first job, which was that of a brakeman with the Burlington Railroad. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1895 Craig moved for the first time to Evanston where he shortly after joined the fire department. Coworkers from that period remarked on Craig's "courage and bravery." </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1900 US Census shows that William Craig is living at 807 Grove in Evanston. The Rotary International complex occupies that spot today. He is twenty-eight years old, "Single," and lived alone. He was renting his house which was not a farm. His occupation was "Fireman" for a "Fire Department," and he could both read, write and speak English. He also said that he had been employed for all twelve of the previous twelve months.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1901 William moved, but remained in Evanston. His new address according to the 1901 Evanston City Directory was 1624 Central Street. Modern condominiums occupy that space today.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1902 Evanston City Directory shows that Craig had moved again - this time to 2014 Pratt Court in Evanston:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE5PgZM3F3J61IjloR5Q8PK621xBq8mwnKvNKwijOmVJa4ShOw1Fr8r7TDsRWP6pxruOGYg64dBrxKi84NyJmfNTl33sr7KUynlDldlugBJlQOJ9mobqBwyY7fXlUOCx-Wj5Eam4ISP1_fzxKZdXNirMe6reZECIKWdX_sC9uK_YOT9ObCyDlAyE1ESbZp/s645/2014%20Pratt%20Court,%20Evanston.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="645" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE5PgZM3F3J61IjloR5Q8PK621xBq8mwnKvNKwijOmVJa4ShOw1Fr8r7TDsRWP6pxruOGYg64dBrxKi84NyJmfNTl33sr7KUynlDldlugBJlQOJ9mobqBwyY7fXlUOCx-Wj5Eam4ISP1_fzxKZdXNirMe6reZECIKWdX_sC9uK_YOT9ObCyDlAyE1ESbZp/w494-h288/2014%20Pratt%20Court,%20Evanston.JPG" width="494" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2014 Pratt Court, Evanston</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But it was not all fighting fires (or moving) for William Craig. On May 15, 1902 he married Clara Amelia Steen (1878-1970) in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The groom was thirty-one years old; the bride was twenty-four.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Clara Amelia Steen was born in Necedah, Wisconsin on March 5, 1878 to Andrew Steen (1842-1888) and Nella Braun (1852-1888). Clara had one sister and three brothers. They are: Josephine/Mrs. Jonas Steen (1872-1959), Oscar (1873-1921), Adolph (1875-1963), and Theron (1880-1972). Andrew Steen was a blacksmith by trade.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlkQg7lxGqNBzj4GMEkJwkzmsmObaAQcraOzekPwUBaX9IR1DcvPpeCOoEWTA-TfTeEzptpWW0aRD3NQsM7QzZOcg6Ry20cApk-QjrINj9URFE0I0kz27vgzu3Tv3qIzyF-x_A37UotCp5ZTR9rCyf3A3bYSyoUGMlpeqWnrCeh73wsPF0bdeuqlON7_ga/s357/Craig%20and%20his%20wife-4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="357" data-original-width="260" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlkQg7lxGqNBzj4GMEkJwkzmsmObaAQcraOzekPwUBaX9IR1DcvPpeCOoEWTA-TfTeEzptpWW0aRD3NQsM7QzZOcg6Ry20cApk-QjrINj9URFE0I0kz27vgzu3Tv3qIzyF-x_A37UotCp5ZTR9rCyf3A3bYSyoUGMlpeqWnrCeh73wsPF0bdeuqlON7_ga/w291-h400/Craig%20and%20his%20wife-4.jpg" width="291" /></a></div><span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">The 1903 Evanston Directory shows William and Clara Craig have moved to 1823 Ashland Avenue in Evanston:</span></p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyJrYOkR1KW6krg9hVIJplP8lK-frdMg6zFrHaVCHBg7WfV3TabtBQstPbwbUKxwhc6CHwlaAGxEUWKRH8Te1xcHOVzWe5LQXxz_bOy-KE7cDXvNir8fmUEq1mCbtXWd81RiKIVKaDMyEkJPhhR0Y-x_boNy61M5hSFf8jITS0s7IhemK9nnhkFwV6XEVy/s785/1823%20Ashland%20Evanston.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="606" data-original-width="785" height="373" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyJrYOkR1KW6krg9hVIJplP8lK-frdMg6zFrHaVCHBg7WfV3TabtBQstPbwbUKxwhc6CHwlaAGxEUWKRH8Te1xcHOVzWe5LQXxz_bOy-KE7cDXvNir8fmUEq1mCbtXWd81RiKIVKaDMyEkJPhhR0Y-x_boNy61M5hSFf8jITS0s7IhemK9nnhkFwV6XEVy/w484-h373/1823%20Ashland%20Evanston.JPG" width="484" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1823 Ashland Avenue, Evanston</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">William and Clara Craig had one son, John William "Jack" Craig (1903-1990) who was born in Evanston, Illinois on April 30, 1903. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In late 1903 William Craig left the Evanston Fire department and returned to the railroad - but this time it was the Omaha Railroad and he was a Dining Car Conductor. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In August of 1905 he rejoined the Evanston Fire Department. The Craig Family was then living at 1924 Jackson Avenue in Evanston</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRsryDt8gRxsScDj23k8OtUqoQdKPxxtmhHfOpAKQsccZxXKpr6mL7BwoO7JGPoJ3qAwg-N0-kTbzoC2W8XVN0SqQCOgvnfrKgFdzOjRKWti3zNIbeDF34ypINl7zh3MgjaK9amL4dmCcMRIitPCRvITtP1SH7stKLaCgezO05famWiVUR8AwTQVQlLfQt/s613/1924%20Jackson%20evanston.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="423" data-original-width="613" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRsryDt8gRxsScDj23k8OtUqoQdKPxxtmhHfOpAKQsccZxXKpr6mL7BwoO7JGPoJ3qAwg-N0-kTbzoC2W8XVN0SqQCOgvnfrKgFdzOjRKWti3zNIbeDF34ypINl7zh3MgjaK9amL4dmCcMRIitPCRvITtP1SH7stKLaCgezO05famWiVUR8AwTQVQlLfQt/w514-h356/1924%20Jackson%20evanston.jpg" width="514" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1924 Jackson Avenue, Evanston</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">That brings us to the terrible day William Craig gave his life for the City of Evanston. Here is an in-depth account from the Evanston Index of December 15, 1905:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcqWwGgbtyFyxqZcjxU0hWx9UngGghegNktMNdskATG9hH1hrkxv2TNwIjGQ3c4w1ZtFVkeT4rTmE9PVyD_k7j8nZPgU8q68bEa_3dFfjxEod_yzjED8P8gd81kDGEsWmHRzTYFrfCxO3mpy9jFJKiUFLtUroG3xmDm9Pv7Y8PFjXxWv5sxZJdDEZ8zi2q/s545/Craig-1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="545" data-original-width="217" height="1065" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcqWwGgbtyFyxqZcjxU0hWx9UngGghegNktMNdskATG9hH1hrkxv2TNwIjGQ3c4w1ZtFVkeT4rTmE9PVyD_k7j8nZPgU8q68bEa_3dFfjxEod_yzjED8P8gd81kDGEsWmHRzTYFrfCxO3mpy9jFJKiUFLtUroG3xmDm9Pv7Y8PFjXxWv5sxZJdDEZ8zi2q/w423-h1065/Craig-1.JPG" width="423" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="596" data-original-width="218" height="1163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFcuHRyNjZuWxSp-Cj4-0hIsNEv7gKSTaqIq9U8VUlu_Y10YivJRyFrZcOndQrvZDchlHoWgvwlfYqxaPQz0jzicRYjiuWe8-QXU5rWXsj5iLpj1GsDUcF2ckuygDNddsXRCKrbV-ivx5mSsdoXskp2nfYOw5VOdwWzBSR9x3k2plw_MmtOjhVQqsPS4Gb/w425-h1163/Craig-2.JPG" width="425" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="562" data-original-width="218" height="1096" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPnSoHqeIhGsQt1rpxltzaNJnbphFFyyFVP72h30IzjYW-ec_WzbuE1BXu2ByN70UVyS4gFSQhNZErwYW_eKGE29N4viVXlQpMu7K9-UoF6Y3yZyCCdZjTyyEZADKlyNfxvcJGHC_F1Nqh-z90V6UMJn_PO-Yh05_8g9BrbFB6LhWkTZVeGHpFjjLdeWKh/w424-h1096/Craig-3.JPG" width="424" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="213" height="912" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyJu_YI1pBZKKgRpxtfl5xCdFoxefOD1wv3_Xl2D92IZKWzJtOMR9NR5YyTOX_ldgLF-kJyhvFp05lzu4nnaCHbo_mur8pnghSVsFIe5fmlnOteVitl5gCdyffAPLSPNeufDf89T4BUwDaJP1up6n_7hKdRErVFr6YteZl9yMqi3e26Apvzg3aDNW-bkLi/w427-h912/Craig-4.JPG" width="427" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="212" height="1300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjigu6VDJFJegoW-OkkJck2qXIWi19FiX2LFJ5x9gXT9BZRGbo-EQHr7bxwbswK1jCZqM1J6AtrnYzGIoy2HMqo3HmtwFudh8CCZ4SsDmCldJ625dWNkQ1460HnLzbR6tIJtSqlkwe6xSoO8DpKSmdgztmwwxvllq6k1ELsY4sRBGxJxaByavpVvqaTMNyX/w439-h1300/Craig-5.JPG" width="439" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="318" data-original-width="216" height="645" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinXxOypyhGbXviADDi87SGu_4eGNBpTnTtdiu-xZawzP4NmEQOgxCBYQ22lB5Q4SVu8M4KXlpwhhz201fM7DkyO4rIpcYgWQu3DtkV2BbwPxyIS_g08STd96OJJEuk8VdLZDb1XGW1x_IpIwF0dXDMidBX-q8yYejGsHTiBWUEyyHX6_cEvk80Qhs5M87K/w439-h645/Craig-6.JPG" width="439" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="456" data-original-width="211" height="937" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAk10CWj1ZNh3DupkBOIeNF5xlmT_BMXrSI7oDQNRKwnB2DsznmMjc807HgGiT_w8C2XLuYKIZne2SWbXWEkzSPL0ZDEokmHQohS3Y-ihZyrZjz6XtvfDAWfkWz_yhIH5MYw1UnSmh7HTvCxIUSLrbFrvu7AJSN8OYKx2-ruN-phfYIl_2C4x5h-NRsWa-/w434-h937/Craig-7.JPG" width="434" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9X7f9r17_pPmssuHSRIOUs4AbeXJ56twbOfBwRnSYtfCBM1TiMKXJi94cGf8wcf54tDyMRd2Vmz1pEhbeE3mnin-SZL1Yulz5M58fe3ffa8xqXz-lA4_kCql41ZqlgxT6jtjK6E3utOOvFgUxIL8nNHk7UGeNQjZc0QAvMp21e37KQWEflPdA3JqcanGI/s503/Craig-8.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="503" data-original-width="218" height="1046" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9X7f9r17_pPmssuHSRIOUs4AbeXJ56twbOfBwRnSYtfCBM1TiMKXJi94cGf8wcf54tDyMRd2Vmz1pEhbeE3mnin-SZL1Yulz5M58fe3ffa8xqXz-lA4_kCql41ZqlgxT6jtjK6E3utOOvFgUxIL8nNHk7UGeNQjZc0QAvMp21e37KQWEflPdA3JqcanGI/w454-h1046/Craig-8.JPG" width="454" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="441" data-original-width="218" height="921" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhUrWiLs236O6H5yCU-7230kTnuAP5AGh2OZhvdZsvUfxcEzPMGSQSOcrqqtuGXopZB2W6NMiSX_asy7HKTKSoiZDOcJljb3vkGfwyzeOq12WrnXn3RMfs_vAM5_7WyFpvm93K3Erinkvr5D1VOg0YCXWHDwugXY5LPw9_nDMjHJMk2lt7H3OgEudD43mJ/w455-h921/Craig-9.JPG" width="455" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="380" data-original-width="216" height="815" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoEojJISJxNIN_JtqBpfmPgffEOIyPZRVQ6dmyDK2Mh5W-J8KMQnwU13wn_4n8vDDJI1gqukYG1vvkcj2MRkVFXzZuZotnbEmeeDRMCfE5vNvSf8ZwN5KimM3jl1XQgs0GROt6s_e5vZb07yYx7B26mXdcRL2teMJ4TaqqeUR2cZ5stLEDs_Qnlj9EGlR_/w464-h815/Craig-10.JPG" width="464" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="527" data-original-width="219" height="1141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGJp0X0FDa1nbDOXgM2uTniYurgtQ5bt7d_-HDM90iL3tKAu9NQ4gXjhhVIrXt3apN6RXSfnqfH027FLVkHu5B2b40Mt9zE62JYFC8UY4CEzA-5Qo3bLF0vi5J4lSy2tDqWjgrWpeaHd21dEeBm5LqbP0OTeIrFUZVxAD4gdXWFA-KtvWJpZCadT__NuhZ/w474-h1141/Craig-11.JPG" width="474" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="381" data-original-width="217" height="846" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7F3LAvsbOJPSHNXA3KAD9hVLgOa7__slxyO_XClSNQ1MtPPhtzx-jS5KGo4d2R_TS8CdC9bA1XO_NHHQIgtCbqgD2EsIIuVpWJmot5IHjnmSMtaXCzspAf6PnqKF_-CexPPT6B1DcP2tm3UdfgDNQsSnEkGXjZOW5fFUK3VX4aWUCZmyB78EuHCHEKRw/w481-h846/Craig-12.JPG" width="481" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="215" height="1220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCrnxDXTdUEzH_gtB50FCOI_FnjLm8oK3MH_NH0SK84x0K1Gfls1Y0r2RfGNh8YNRUVkHAf98f0-Lb3GwD99cIPxQXUJYAsOo6GWuCXD50ch1omVgskAwrYUp25TyB8hJ1P58ZXK2tcvn_CVnzpPMTBkVhXZMtldSX5TM2uRPxR99BGFDOMuxJukj5UURR/w492-h1220/Craig-13.JPG" width="492" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="465" data-original-width="214" height="1076" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKfmXhq04Q7MRRnOrQEthIRnx__LTJVKQwuULoP83RaI_h0e0oQyvuzRXUE7nvFsFzqdVO1eY4qANQJ9d4KSO_Hao1Ymcdzh1m5dxjI5nPzgs4zvONa3CEDetZHizgjp7N0sa4qVZ1IVMNWi3RPtqJMp1kKm6lMywpIvWxbS0rEkh56YEzaCiSqvbHcl8n/w494-h1076/Craig-14.JPG" width="494" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGx33XsTIiqY3yvSwEv4F1HKQkViZAfTBbli2RAG6ApThLu8B5YEDog72S4myuULqFf4WGxoZ6NEwTfofwNWCbrAe-WZdRSf1888X546aafIvcpfi2U4vfknzj9jaNfQcz3yzETlykT9dgGSNOvMe0ZhL3sH7Rm6aicyvme8XVpRsgMOni6qYO94oeZEMg/s237/Craig-15.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="237" data-original-width="218" height="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGx33XsTIiqY3yvSwEv4F1HKQkViZAfTBbli2RAG6ApThLu8B5YEDog72S4myuULqFf4WGxoZ6NEwTfofwNWCbrAe-WZdRSf1888X546aafIvcpfi2U4vfknzj9jaNfQcz3yzETlykT9dgGSNOvMe0ZhL3sH7Rm6aicyvme8XVpRsgMOni6qYO94oeZEMg/w509-h555/Craig-15.JPG" width="509" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="218" height="604" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT9HIbO533KsEdvPA8POFoCOnDkH1YxXprlDiYICbyFg919v_McPr0GprnLKAcgqBU8qNluTlgxLvNVc2EvnR3ouu7uNrUf13m3xARmU4f0lDq_OmiTRpvF8b9U2zvX9IJz29Knqf3sgjXb9SqF-Y2sXlFiT0iwK16IkVdOG0PqCJphh6024XzMHK5dziE/w493-h604/Craig-16.JPG" width="493" /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Some sources said that at the time of his death William and Clara Craig had two children. I was only able to find evidence of their son, Jack. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Craig Family said that William Craig's body would have its final resting place in the family plot at the Knoxville Cemetery in Knoxville, Illinois. However, since many Evanstonians wanted to pay their respects, Craig's body was placed in state for a time at his home in Evanston. Members of both the Evanston Police Department and the Evanston Fire Department gathered to take a final view of their colleague and friend. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">On December 16, 1905, </span><span style="font-size: medium;">there was a procession from Craig's home to the train station where pieces of equipment draped in black and white were present from all three (at that time) of Evanston's fire stations. The hearse was preceded by an escort of eight Evanston Policemen in full uniform, under the charge of Sergeant Shaffer, while the members of Engine Company No. 1, Craig's Company, acted as pall bearers. All Evanston flags were ordered to be flown at half-staff as a sign of respect. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here is William Craig's grave with a zinc tombstone, in Knoxville:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOQq0qZxChEIj4u9Owq952I2_ljz1Z2gEybODGMpm2mgLpYKL_bJuduOBWui_oXVgx63Chklg0G447FhUOdATM12RnzUa_V_xc61BtA-gTTWqHBKp3BLOVe-QL_trsWWVvUWra8nPen8ZtdM2wScJpIzZ0wagbFENPSbMK8AdPLmi3fc2bnpdjJHBNgkX/s248/Craig,%20William%20F.%20Tombstone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="178" data-original-width="248" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOQq0qZxChEIj4u9Owq952I2_ljz1Z2gEybODGMpm2mgLpYKL_bJuduOBWui_oXVgx63Chklg0G447FhUOdATM12RnzUa_V_xc61BtA-gTTWqHBKp3BLOVe-QL_trsWWVvUWra8nPen8ZtdM2wScJpIzZ0wagbFENPSbMK8AdPLmi3fc2bnpdjJHBNgkX/w354-h254/Craig,%20William%20F.%20Tombstone.jpg" width="354" /></a></div><br /></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>As mentioned in the article above, George Stiles, the other victim, had been a member of the </span><span style="text-align: left;">Firemans Benevolent Association, so his heirs would be receiving the benefit of a $1,000 life insurance policy provided by the Association. William Craig was not a member of the Firemans Benevolent Association so his family was not entitled to the death benefit. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Newspapers of the time however, reported that both the Craig and Stiles family received benefits from the Evanston Businessmens' Benevolent Association.</span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">May God protect our firefighters and may William Craig, George Stiles and Marty Leoni rest in peace.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">The rest of the story:</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">William Craig's widow, Clara Steen Craig remarried on November 6, 1920 to Edward St. John Brown (1856-1937). The groom was sixty-four years old; the bride was forty-two. Edward Brown died in 1937, but Clara remained in Evanston where she died on July 14, 1970. She was ninety-two years old. She is buried in Memorial Park Cemetery in Skokie.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">William and Clara Craig's son Jack went to to become an "Office Clerk" for the Public Service Company, predecessor to Northern Illinois Gas and Commonwealth Edison. My father started his career with Public Service in 1926. When Public Service was split by the US Government in 1937 Jack Craig became an employee of Northern Illinois Gas whereas my father went with Commonwealth Edison. In the 1950 US Census Jack reported his job as "Arranging Window Displays" for the Gas Company." On August 8, 1959 Jack married Constance Adele Stikkers (1940- ????). The groom was fifty-six; the bride was nineteen.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jack Craig died in Evanston on March 1, 1990. He is buried in Memorial Park Cemetery in Skokie.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am pleased to report that Evanston has not forgotten her fallen firefighters. In 1993, the city of Evanston created a park called "Firemen's Park" at the corner of Simpson Street and Maple Avenue. The park honors all three firefighters killed in the line of duty in the Evanston Fire Department’s then 135 years of existence: William Craig and George Stiles in 1905 and Marty Leoni in 1985. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJOoO3EU3REkDcAzu00P1mo1_cU50T7QBjziGoa3Vo3iNhCrxngSjaJ2rX7LnDSWeZpEEaq_8kwLdxpMTiQ-rYP3fetMjYFvj3fGrzgSX0NQNJaD49znwh9sL6EV3sI-iP_rL7TEo-3KcsHmeKRNuk0uGwYrmBReoxKbmdA-0q3X2lJmzdjZ5CNdTpnnIQ/s1920/Firemens%20Park-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1276" data-original-width="1920" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJOoO3EU3REkDcAzu00P1mo1_cU50T7QBjziGoa3Vo3iNhCrxngSjaJ2rX7LnDSWeZpEEaq_8kwLdxpMTiQ-rYP3fetMjYFvj3fGrzgSX0NQNJaD49znwh9sL6EV3sI-iP_rL7TEo-3KcsHmeKRNuk0uGwYrmBReoxKbmdA-0q3X2lJmzdjZ5CNdTpnnIQ/w400-h266/Firemens%20Park-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEd0kb0EnDdohw4oGsVyczWnJkAsApM2dlVhJvZ2hNWuz5eZfzU2juRD308rbmVta1JJ4TnW1MCcL62zcCxQbrlbGxx5QSaFBaqL5JjPqnX1WDTssaTJxgeOs7ETiTmAmufCkqHbsju4OwTHiEnF-SaAlZDCMy2Sa_zZjrC62RvT6pRf7qAL5Tl_4o0vYO/s1920/Firemens%20Park-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1276" data-original-width="1920" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEd0kb0EnDdohw4oGsVyczWnJkAsApM2dlVhJvZ2hNWuz5eZfzU2juRD308rbmVta1JJ4TnW1MCcL62zcCxQbrlbGxx5QSaFBaqL5JjPqnX1WDTssaTJxgeOs7ETiTmAmufCkqHbsju4OwTHiEnF-SaAlZDCMy2Sa_zZjrC62RvT6pRf7qAL5Tl_4o0vYO/w400-h266/Firemens%20Park-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4urcAFF97-pL1XwNi6OfftDYG04ry7iYCNqTBHDd7a8TJWL8P_63qHREq4CRncuiIXxomw3U97yQcjve-mGHWYvkQ_zxwr1yjVELiZYX7QEyEiI_jmcU01HjunGJFmVfijgJCMSbpYalZST1RRXamt6hLeT60OtenL18yLELBSsvW-TD0gJEJzOgV9bd/s1907/637650551345570000.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1907" data-original-width="1576" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4urcAFF97-pL1XwNi6OfftDYG04ry7iYCNqTBHDd7a8TJWL8P_63qHREq4CRncuiIXxomw3U97yQcjve-mGHWYvkQ_zxwr1yjVELiZYX7QEyEiI_jmcU01HjunGJFmVfijgJCMSbpYalZST1RRXamt6hLeT60OtenL18yLELBSsvW-TD0gJEJzOgV9bd/w528-h640/637650551345570000.jpg" width="528" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOrHuReEO2b_480acxW8JOdOq3bwTrvY9EttzZODJtMpaO3zUzk8YDyQrizWgQ01aDzWU-kMAkDlb_pyERUqTfkzlHXJ3uyNWki5vA4x_O8gXIWhYhrYPw90_17T07tNkWacjvPXg_Y2bqH5L1T88LrkOFZ02Zw5_8EwRlbK2ujUjR_ahW1BjKeu527wEL/s466/Firemens%20Park-3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="351" height="704" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOrHuReEO2b_480acxW8JOdOq3bwTrvY9EttzZODJtMpaO3zUzk8YDyQrizWgQ01aDzWU-kMAkDlb_pyERUqTfkzlHXJ3uyNWki5vA4x_O8gXIWhYhrYPw90_17T07tNkWacjvPXg_Y2bqH5L1T88LrkOFZ02Zw5_8EwRlbK2ujUjR_ahW1BjKeu527wEL/w530-h704/Firemens%20Park-3.jpg" width="530" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This Monument</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Is Dedicated</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On July 23, 1993</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">For All Evanston Firefighters</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Who Put Their Lives on the Line</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And Those Firefighters Who Have</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Made the Ultimate Sacrifice So</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Others Could Live</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fallen Evanston Fire Fighters</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">FF George Stiles Age 32</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">December 13, 1905</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Eng. Co. No 1 1900 Dempster</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">FF William Craig Age 33</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">December 13, 1905</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Eng. Co. No 1 1900 Dempster</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">FF FM Marty F. Leoni, Jr. Age 27</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">July 22, 1985</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">TR Co. 21 1927 Jackson</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> Designed by Gail Leoni</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">In 2019 William Craig and George Stiles were further remembered with a memorial boulder containing a commemorative plaque on the approximate spot where they made the ultimate sacrifice. The boulder rests in the parking lot of the Evanston Plaza Shopping Center on the south-west corner of Dodge Avenue and Dempster Street, the former site of the Clayton Mark Foundry:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3eimAIunYB0cMJr2k4rQqgO1sJgVwBtlid4dS1KtUIFKOc7HpCglfJMmMxZQ-Q8BqkGzlJiU99nCHVsU7TuqcCcIXGIF-kCg154NiWxhDwNvBSkcZrLi7KIJ_qwGGrdL5xLepI-yKE5HbauVYXhRL6pn7D2SxgaPFmXvmud0b_Qwdqq0LBwbobUrdrp1d/s480/Boulder-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3eimAIunYB0cMJr2k4rQqgO1sJgVwBtlid4dS1KtUIFKOc7HpCglfJMmMxZQ-Q8BqkGzlJiU99nCHVsU7TuqcCcIXGIF-kCg154NiWxhDwNvBSkcZrLi7KIJ_qwGGrdL5xLepI-yKE5HbauVYXhRL6pn7D2SxgaPFmXvmud0b_Qwdqq0LBwbobUrdrp1d/w640-h480/Boulder-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQvw1VLDvmG-L20qeyFZr9nTjfjVEXnr5O_SMr0up-QVPAFQ0QmHQV9zJn6Y5VOUQMBrDneeXCxBMmGOkXJfbz002yt6P-aM4xywKnzLDsOJXLJaZjdeg9aCzu7KzwQtfCs73_Wuv32rSl-EhfIK6iIZDpFnMCaQPdB9o8z7bL4sfuai0-M0jqOCbsqMEm/s480/Boulder-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQvw1VLDvmG-L20qeyFZr9nTjfjVEXnr5O_SMr0up-QVPAFQ0QmHQV9zJn6Y5VOUQMBrDneeXCxBMmGOkXJfbz002yt6P-aM4xywKnzLDsOJXLJaZjdeg9aCzu7KzwQtfCs73_Wuv32rSl-EhfIK6iIZDpFnMCaQPdB9o8z7bL4sfuai0-M0jqOCbsqMEm/w640-h480/Boulder-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Near This Spot Evanston Firefighters</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">George B. Stiles</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">William F. Craig</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Made the Ultimate Sacrifice</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">During the Clayton Mark Foundry Fire</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">December 13, 1905</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Job Well Done Brothers. Rest in Peace</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The plaque includes facsimiles of the firefighters' badges with their respective badge numbers.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Special thanks again goes to Mike Kelly who provided the photo of William and Clara Craig from the Chicago Chronicle Newspaper and for the photos of the memorial boulder at Dodge and Dempster.<br /></i></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-49833207829597122242023-12-01T06:12:00.000-08:002023-12-01T06:12:46.025-08:00WHAT IF YOU WERE KILLED, AND NOBODY NOTICED? - Harry Shultz Leamaster<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">People become involved with the website Findagrave.com for many different reasons. Some to look at the gravesite of a famous actor or actress. Others to try to find the interment sites of relatives or friends who lived and died far away. As a historian I create Find a Grave Memorial pages as a way to remember departed friends and relatives. After a memorial page is created, the person who created it can keep it, or transfer it to the Find a Grave administrators. The pages transferred to the administrators then become available to be "adopted" by any Find a Grave member who might be interested in managing the memorial. That is why my latest statistics show that I have created 21,848 memorial pages, but I manage 28,380 pages. This means that I manage 6,532 pages that were created by someone else.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After I take over management of a page I did not create, I check all the information to make sure it is correct. I recently took over management of 198 memorial pages for people interred at the Angelus-Rosedale Cemetery in Los Angeles. Everyone has heard of Dr. Hubert Eaton's Forest Lawn Memorial Parks but few have ever heard of Angelus-Rosedale Cemetery. Angelus-Rosedale is actually one of Los Angeles' oldest and largest cemeteries and one of the first cemeteries willing to inter anyone regardless of color, religion or ethnic background. Originally named Rosedale Cemetery, it became Angelus-Rosedale when it was purchased in 1993 by the Angelus Funeral Home. For the remainder of this article I will refer to the cemetery as "Rosedale." If you have read any of my stories about Angeles Abbey Memorial Park in Compton, you will know how much I am interested in the cemeteries of Southern California. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Unlike Angeles Abbey which I have never visited, I have been to Rosedale. I went there one morning years ago to photograph the grave of Chinese-American star Anna May Wong for a friend:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="894" data-original-width="714" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjed3MWRJLzWDkBSipnAojiUp9RLL4AebSZtkqBxXhQo5oMDqayxJngV0MiGKasBlpQ2nVQOMcaxBa2Abe8H2fAACnR-qem2bKM3ipPeW15JNUdx5lAUOrUAO1y3bwDhwquuorXD8ehLPvYbdt8pYF_qVEc9vcC4xJKKh_n1sHJTDkw2TY0L1oUwYiDa5vX/s320/wong-1.jpg" width="256" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anna May Wong</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzIV8oUi8ynqnB-cCyCyiNkfl0EuBqJFpXZgBTBfrCKjopWBtohybCirZ43HkwM6LzHl1EwDlbfIROsP_a2a7-ssgAD-DeZiDB_h1ILGQswGgpRSEJI0nOJ_yHs-oLdvpLGWg7fNcJzMCf-a6O_MfOFHZzSq_d5sRwWJk_UNpehZ6uCBOTfZUl733mSX4Q/s1010/Wong-2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="757" data-original-width="1010" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzIV8oUi8ynqnB-cCyCyiNkfl0EuBqJFpXZgBTBfrCKjopWBtohybCirZ43HkwM6LzHl1EwDlbfIROsP_a2a7-ssgAD-DeZiDB_h1ILGQswGgpRSEJI0nOJ_yHs-oLdvpLGWg7fNcJzMCf-a6O_MfOFHZzSq_d5sRwWJk_UNpehZ6uCBOTfZUl733mSX4Q/s320/Wong-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The grave of Anna May Wong, her mother and her sister</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Among the pages I "adopted" from Rosedale was one for a man named Harry Shultz Lemasters who was born May 28, 1892 and died October 18, 1916. Other than that, the page originally created by Find a Grave member Richard Mayo did not contain any additional information. So I started doing my own research using the websites I described in last month's blog article. I first went to the Family Search site created and managed by the Mormon Church. Due to the generosity of the current ownership of Rosedale, the LDS Church was able to scan and record all of the Ownership Records and Interment Records of Rosedale Cemetery going all the way back to its founding in 1884. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">From the Family Search website I was able to get a copy of Harry Lemasters' Death Certificate:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaQnMxFcoBv8kKqakUmsJ3Yeckx4unyZKPwtyc_ZJKhkh-jhXWWZIXnv6U4TV5dtn7PW2ECYX8RS4t-CyNfW91717xMYCELl07RgbbI-aKQXy6QSwdN0d0IsojqTdak0NjCtCkLjBtfQ3aI8oFwJdcrU5FJR9fuli9YS_kBPiqTyhd1Z4lwjYclMwAwz_8/s2397/Lemaster%20death%20cert.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1871" data-original-width="2397" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaQnMxFcoBv8kKqakUmsJ3Yeckx4unyZKPwtyc_ZJKhkh-jhXWWZIXnv6U4TV5dtn7PW2ECYX8RS4t-CyNfW91717xMYCELl07RgbbI-aKQXy6QSwdN0d0IsojqTdak0NjCtCkLjBtfQ3aI8oFwJdcrU5FJR9fuli9YS_kBPiqTyhd1Z4lwjYclMwAwz_8/w549-h430/Lemaster%20death%20cert.jpeg" width="549" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Death Certificate shows that he died in El Paso, Texas from what appears to be "Crushed Vertebra from Rail Road Cars Accident" on October 18, 1916. A lucky break for me, I thought, (though not so lucky for Harry). I was sure there would be an abundance of information about the train accident. I used my newspapers.com subscription to access the El Paso, Texas Herald from October 18, 1916. I presumed that the train wreck would be big news on Page One - but I was incorrect. In fact, the only mention of the train accident at all was a small article way back on Page 16:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixKqZNH7ux4Mr9ZnZM5TZFGBLthVzLL_Jzc5PRtKU9c2vKXABPmr8abvuyeXvp43n-gGXg1QXnDrv3TSxhyEPj_vmRYnxaeTnYIVwRtGDmoTB6YA9ZreuT7X6DO4RG2nShqa-ESjykbCeUvkNBI9LazEGyo51hMErhhTIgEDC5jwGq137RWVTI-0F9kfGr/s2032/El_Paso_Herald_1916_10_18_Page_15.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2032" data-original-width="1083" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixKqZNH7ux4Mr9ZnZM5TZFGBLthVzLL_Jzc5PRtKU9c2vKXABPmr8abvuyeXvp43n-gGXg1QXnDrv3TSxhyEPj_vmRYnxaeTnYIVwRtGDmoTB6YA9ZreuT7X6DO4RG2nShqa-ESjykbCeUvkNBI9LazEGyo51hMErhhTIgEDC5jwGq137RWVTI-0F9kfGr/w342-h640/El_Paso_Herald_1916_10_18_Page_15.jpg" width="342" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Note the Headline "Unknown Men Meet Death..." and the fact that only one of the men was identified, that being P. G. Burns. Harry Lemasters was described with the statement "One of the men killed evidently was a Mason, it was said." Not much of an epitaph.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Death Certificate said that the body would be taken back to "Los Angeles" for burial. That was it - I couldn't find anything else in any of the other newspapers about the train wreck.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Before we try to uncover more information about the untimely death of Harry Lemaster, let's see what else we can "dig up" about him.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Harry Shultz Lemaster was born May 28, 1892 in Topeka, Kansas. His last name was sometimes spelled as "Leamaster," "Leamasters," "Lemasters," or even "LeMaster." His birthplace has been listed as Topeka, Kansas, but in other places as Bakersfield, California. His parents were Elmer G. Lemaster (1864-1917) and Laura C. Shultz (1867-1961).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Harry's father, Elmer Grant Lemaster was born May 18, 1865 in Ohio. His mother Laura C. Shultz was born May 26, 1867 in Pennsylvania. They married in 1888 in Pennsylvania. Elmer Lemaster was a Teamster by trade.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Elmer and Laura were blessed with three children: Frank Roland (or Rolland) (1889-1969), Harry Shultz (1892-1916), and Mildred Violet/Mrs. Frank M. Massa (1897-1965).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Harry makes his first appearance in the 1895 Kansas State Census. The Lemaster family was living in Ward 2 of Topeka, Kansas. The family consisted of E.G. (30 years old), Laura (27), Frank (5), and Harry (3). Elmer reported his occupation as "Laborer."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Young Harry is mentioned in this blurb from the Abilene (KS) Weekly Chronicle and the Dickson County News dated October 12, 1900:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIqOAcMBI-hRV6XLqMKhlSo4sgRNNfPl2xh4NCrinis5JZ-zeASHX-DTvd9KGf7eQiqYWW-4oG97oXtTf3YZbPP7lyfIsP_ZcxZfVOwd8fX0hm6gThNhlQqFNhjxnb3DJNBJWCu-AgFvqlJDVmGTMmGNorlHQMlbFOXI4BNs_TjpjREco0ywQ3Zx2k10Y_/s732/Abilene_Weekly_Chronicle_and_the_Dickinson_County_News_1900_10_12_page_5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="274" data-original-width="732" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIqOAcMBI-hRV6XLqMKhlSo4sgRNNfPl2xh4NCrinis5JZ-zeASHX-DTvd9KGf7eQiqYWW-4oG97oXtTf3YZbPP7lyfIsP_ZcxZfVOwd8fX0hm6gThNhlQqFNhjxnb3DJNBJWCu-AgFvqlJDVmGTMmGNorlHQMlbFOXI4BNs_TjpjREco0ywQ3Zx2k10Y_/w400-h150/Abilene_Weekly_Chronicle_and_the_Dickinson_County_News_1900_10_12_page_5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Harry's next appearance is in the 1900 US Census. The family is living at 460 Reno Avenue in Topeka, Kansas. That address no longer exists, nor does Reno Avenue in Topeka. The family consisted of: Elmer G. (36 years old), Laura (33), Frank R. (10), Harry (8), and Mildred V. (2). Elmer and Laura said they had been married for twelve years, and Laura reported she had given birth to three children - all of whom were still alive in 1900. Elmer said he was a Teamster, that they rented their home, and that it was a house, not a farm. Frank and Harry were listed as "In School" and both Elmer and Laura could read, write, and speak English.</span></span></p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1910 US Census shows that the family has relocated to 169 Umatilla Street in Denver, Colorado. That number no longer exists on Umatilla Street. They are now calling themselves the "Le Master" family. The family consisted of: Elmer G. (45 years old), Laura C. (42), Harry S. (17), Mildred V. (12), Minnie E. Shultz, a sister-in-law (38), and Lodger Joseph J. Duffy (49). Elmer listed his occupation as "Check Clerk at the Union Depot." Elmer and Laura said they had been married twenty-two years, and Laura again reported having given birth to three children, all of whom were still living in 1910.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Harry S. Lemaster married Marylu Lightfoot (1897-1975) on September 16, 1915 in Santa Ana, California. The groom was twenty-three; the bride was eighteen.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marylu Lightfoot was born April 1, 1897 in Pittsburg, Missouri to William Alexander Lightfoot (1853-1928) and Alice Caroline Lawrence (1858-1928). Marylu's father was also a Teamster like Harry's father. Marylu was one of five children born to William and Alice Lightfoot.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">By 1916 the Lemaster clan had relocated again - this time to sunny Southern California. Here is an entry for them in the 1916 Los Angeles City Directory:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPamoM3KJmWIw1SWSri7lEmGKFcEYD8tC_o5TiayBv_56JvnvySvPGHGMQ9ortO0RqPySWPRaKcVHCVYpvzZTKQHPJJbSwx1C_GIWxTrv4F9kSORSICo9etXHng_JXlI0k1BT0HwUq11QQt8JMVd0spHaGeEbDXGr7S22zgqOGNrCUnBRSJ_VR-ZaIw3uV/s682/LA%20Directory%201916.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="127" data-original-width="682" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPamoM3KJmWIw1SWSri7lEmGKFcEYD8tC_o5TiayBv_56JvnvySvPGHGMQ9ortO0RqPySWPRaKcVHCVYpvzZTKQHPJJbSwx1C_GIWxTrv4F9kSORSICo9etXHng_JXlI0k1BT0HwUq11QQt8JMVd0spHaGeEbDXGr7S22zgqOGNrCUnBRSJ_VR-ZaIw3uV/w640-h120/LA%20Directory%201916.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I don't know why Harry's mother is not listed. She's still alive - she didn't die until 1961. Elmer is now a Foreman for the Salt Lake and Los Angeles Railroad. </span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The family is living at 3615 Stephenson Avenue which is now called 3615 Whittier Boulevard:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrWwoLuvbtUkIRdIBI6_wIf0Wv_ZPZ7lSrmb2ljPC1PhZhsWnMIStv3RvQJePUOcdm579NLGMRdxKa9sKKI2qwbidHC03EwLsfPU4_bGsXtPwAdYswzwMlmP7nK7rnZs609fgXqp_91bt40wKsZjQ3nDb25yc3p6qKNGQz5NwqqKyZEl1TRZuTjRP9NcsZ/s548/3615%20whittier%20boulevard%20LA.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="472" data-original-width="548" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrWwoLuvbtUkIRdIBI6_wIf0Wv_ZPZ7lSrmb2ljPC1PhZhsWnMIStv3RvQJePUOcdm579NLGMRdxKa9sKKI2qwbidHC03EwLsfPU4_bGsXtPwAdYswzwMlmP7nK7rnZs609fgXqp_91bt40wKsZjQ3nDb25yc3p6qKNGQz5NwqqKyZEl1TRZuTjRP9NcsZ/w508-h438/3615%20whittier%20boulevard%20LA.JPG" width="508" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3615 Whittier Boulevard, LA</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Harry and his parents registered to vote in 1916, but none of them would declare a Party affiliation:</span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="226" data-original-width="385" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbP0UNxM1lWssZrjUVjpYCOd_itDDww5pIhJ4w0a9n0gyg6zCCtof0Rdc-xAd3R9lTxxhazRH6lJdqdfvoinDY1tQ2An6I_rzNHr_PFfgeye_iMDp2i_gjn_OhhFGvBM4tecNpCRuP_MJKWIKi_YGbxtdOyVw0kmJMQPKoFDD0N_hDm5GpAwZslej2DQfH/w640-h376/Register%201916.JPG" width="640" /></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">The occupation for Harry was listed as "crpt lyr," I originally thought that stood for "corporate lawyer," but there was never any indication that Harry Lemaster was an attorney. Looking at it again, I figured it must stand for "carpet layer," a more appropriate occupation for Harry. </div></span><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This brings us to the date of the train accident that took Harry's life, October 18, 1916. I am shocked that I was not able to find any additional information about a train accident that wrecked fourteen train cars and took the lives of two people. Other than the short article from the El Paso Herald I was unable to find <u>any</u> additional information about what happened. There are numerous sites on the internet concerning train accidents - from Wikipedia "List of American Railroad Accidents" to the US government site "Railroad Accident Reports" from the National Archives. Even in the one account of the accident that I was able to uncover, poor Harry Lemaster's name is not even mentioned. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">His Death Certificate said he died at the "Hotel Dieu" in El Paso. I was curious as to why his injured (or possibly dead already) body was taken to a hotel. Actually that is a bit of a misnomer. The full name of the "Hotel Dieu" was the "Hotel Dieu Hospital" which was run by the Daughters of Charity of the Blessed Virgin Mary: </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0IyZyngEcBioLa9tdHWce2f4XyrWEuGlWmeAx-fYWxF-CVj9EYxBOS92BW09va1RPpGb8lo5DMJuVvczCimop_HwTkLvXroLKHnZ-3wkpzz4vD5U6VPGJ1yiyUImXttc3pti4CDBYk1qgR7Lij_fkncsfcLsPoatk-ocORgF138uqKOBJzB5IAWQAsaf3/s1600/Hotel%20Dieu,%20El%20Paso,%20Texas.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0IyZyngEcBioLa9tdHWce2f4XyrWEuGlWmeAx-fYWxF-CVj9EYxBOS92BW09va1RPpGb8lo5DMJuVvczCimop_HwTkLvXroLKHnZ-3wkpzz4vD5U6VPGJ1yiyUImXttc3pti4CDBYk1qgR7Lij_fkncsfcLsPoatk-ocORgF138uqKOBJzB5IAWQAsaf3/w640-h428/Hotel%20Dieu,%20El%20Paso,%20Texas.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1892 nuns bought the site and with $60,000 borrowed from the Motherhouse, and three Daughters of Charity started building Hotel Dieu in 1893. It was the first general hospital in El Paso. There was no electricity and lighting was done by gas. Heat was provided by wood fires. In need for more trained personnel, the sisters also started a nursing school connected with the Hotel Dieu in 1898. The hotel/hospital served the residents of El Paso until 1987 when it was sold and ultimately razed. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Death Certificate further indicates that Harry's body would be shipped to "Los Angeles, Calif." for burial or removal. As I mentioned at the start of this article I took over management of almost 200 Find a Grave memorial pages for graves in the Rosedale Cemetery in Los Angeles. Among these was a Memorial Page for "Harry Shultz Leamasters." I started checking the information that the page creator Richard Mayo added to the page when he created it. I was unable to review any of the information with Richard Mayo because he had passed away in 2018. Primarily I would have liked to have asked him where he got the information that Harry Leamasters was interred at Rosedale Cemetery. In checking the Ownership Books and Interment Books for Rosedale, neither the name of "Harry Leamasters" nor any of its alternate spellings shows up.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After doing further research I found that Harry S. Lemaster is actually buried in the Los Angeles Odd Fellows Cemetery at 3640 Whittier Boulevard which turns out to be right across the street from the Lemaster home at 3615 Whittier Boulevard.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUsv-Oj86753qBGXLxCh4qV1baWmU2qAHYXb_cLYcsxG_z3yata29FlwQXSvYESxum6eK5Rqzs0o9CnRrXJPiXEx6MnzONBGTFVzrdLj-xGWeA-GAn2zH3jZaLWUjV14ZobAkohKSFGSXZrzyWikuR7eroCqWE1VXE5_ET2Vu0Vq3CzhuLLdS83e6DHWJF/s4032/Lemaster,%20Harry.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUsv-Oj86753qBGXLxCh4qV1baWmU2qAHYXb_cLYcsxG_z3yata29FlwQXSvYESxum6eK5Rqzs0o9CnRrXJPiXEx6MnzONBGTFVzrdLj-xGWeA-GAn2zH3jZaLWUjV14ZobAkohKSFGSXZrzyWikuR7eroCqWE1VXE5_ET2Vu0Vq3CzhuLLdS83e6DHWJF/w640-h480/Lemaster,%20Harry.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photo courtesy of Find a Grave Volunteer saltmarsh</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Despite the many trips I have made to Southern California cemeteries, I have never been to the Los Angeles Odd Fellows Cemetery. I was wondering about it, so I asked two "cemetery friends" and here's what they said:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>"Re Odd Fellows, I didn't even really know it existed before I started doing Find a Grave 3 years ago, it's tucked away in an inconspicuous area of the city. It's peaceful and they're still doing interments so it has some life and there are always decorations around. It's probably overlooked a lot because the much larger Catholic and Jewish cemeteries are just down the street. I like it because it has some of the oldest burials, along with Rosedale and Evergreen, and is better kept up than either of those."</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And the other person I asked: <i>"One of L.A.'s worst."</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Well, you can't please everyone. I'll have to check it out for myself the next time I am in LA.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Poor Harry Lemaster - </span><span style="font-size: medium;">a man who lived for twenty-four years, had a job, married, loved and was loved, disappears almost without a trace. As I have stated many times in this blog, it exists so that these people will not be forgotten. Harry S. Lemaster, you are not forgotten.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">May he rest in peace.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The rest of the story:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Harry's widow, Marylu Lightfoot Lemaster remarried on July 13, 1923 to Doran Henry Cox. He died in 1957, she died in 1975. they are both interred at Forest Lawn Glendale. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlDJ3P2pqkaI7ud54Phe9LGcMTIrO4kpiIAw8iY8bQ0KTneoBIKafP1PgzVf6B0XAS6zsHRN5pSkJ6NU3xVlqESHNj35vagCOdFTit6DJ89Rro-LUYXXiVgdoRmOdDHPghT-UFRNac0n9XhYUdgJC8QbbeRNN2TJaB9T1_Kbt0QwHgYYhdS181yzboNlHO/s800/Cox,%20Doran%20Henry.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="456" data-original-width="800" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlDJ3P2pqkaI7ud54Phe9LGcMTIrO4kpiIAw8iY8bQ0KTneoBIKafP1PgzVf6B0XAS6zsHRN5pSkJ6NU3xVlqESHNj35vagCOdFTit6DJ89Rro-LUYXXiVgdoRmOdDHPghT-UFRNac0n9XhYUdgJC8QbbeRNN2TJaB9T1_Kbt0QwHgYYhdS181yzboNlHO/w495-h282/Cox,%20Doran%20Henry.jpg" width="495" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photo courtesy of Find a Grave Volunteer Jane Hatch</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm8PUJX8_7NZiIDeQyqtJHXdJ6vM-SQsCMJRp1RwtGiu8igp4vk4-MB3zFOJNxh0BlVKdIsvkDM_CIclKa4TJqOkW4raws3hC9RHxWJGkx1_q_DV0sx4aMwNxGIjFyj9uISQ6YeXHfy01Xk82iEOQMXn09-ykuCQlFMWgmVHKT0Jmj2SDIZ72y5dp_EZih/s800/Cox,%20Marylu.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="465" data-original-width="800" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm8PUJX8_7NZiIDeQyqtJHXdJ6vM-SQsCMJRp1RwtGiu8igp4vk4-MB3zFOJNxh0BlVKdIsvkDM_CIclKa4TJqOkW4raws3hC9RHxWJGkx1_q_DV0sx4aMwNxGIjFyj9uISQ6YeXHfy01Xk82iEOQMXn09-ykuCQlFMWgmVHKT0Jmj2SDIZ72y5dp_EZih/w505-h294/Cox,%20Marylu.jpg" width="505" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photo courtesy of Find a Grave Volunteer Jane Hatch</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Harry's father, Elmer G. Lemaster died on April 1, 1917 at the age of fifty-one. His Death Certificate listed his Cause of Death as "Operated on Nov 27 for gastric ulcer. Later developed pulmonary tuberculosis, from which he died."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Elmer Lemaster is buried beside his son Harry in the LA Odd Fellows Cemetery:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGHxBY5VJTYySlILNcY5XrbQblE_tMlReCfxo231LqxME2836IwECYvKsLp24KUlseSQywqaC0I0lsNff8OdGsJv39Bvi_NYom2RntmmFW8nYEc5IEcxAHYzsTBWP9eaDH6NuiQ636rPCKZ5FWtUQQGnbat3m092P8HX3vG739_Y_KyNbB6DDB9LAZVNA5/s3117/Lemaster,%20Elmer.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1794" data-original-width="3117" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGHxBY5VJTYySlILNcY5XrbQblE_tMlReCfxo231LqxME2836IwECYvKsLp24KUlseSQywqaC0I0lsNff8OdGsJv39Bvi_NYom2RntmmFW8nYEc5IEcxAHYzsTBWP9eaDH6NuiQ636rPCKZ5FWtUQQGnbat3m092P8HX3vG739_Y_KyNbB6DDB9LAZVNA5/w482-h277/Lemaster,%20Elmer.jpg" width="482" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photo courtesy of Find a Grave Volunteer saltmarsh </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Harry's mother Laura Shultz Lemaster remarried on November 26, 1920 to F. Morris Gordon. She died February 20, 1961 in Los Angeles at the age of ninety-three. I was unable to find her Cause of Death or where/if she was interred. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">See you next month.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div></div></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-43335317720460415232023-11-01T04:22:00.002-07:002023-11-01T04:22:44.177-07:00WHO WAS D.M.P. Davis?<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I love it when I am contacted by family members of the people I feature in this blog. They often say, "You found out things about my own family that I didn't even know. Where do you find all of the information you use when writing your stories?" The answer is very simple: The Internet. Specifically I use the following websites (some are free and some are not):</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">1. Ancestry.com</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">2. FamilySearch.org</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">3. Newspapers.com</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">4. Findagrave.com</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">99% of the material I use to write my stories comes from these four sites. Of course, it's not all there on page one - I have to dig (and sometimes dig and dig and dig) to get the information I need to put the story together. So as I write this month's article I am also going to tell you where I found each piece of the story. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sunday, October 1, 2023 was a beautiful Fall day in Chicago. Where is the best place to enjoy a beautiful Fall day in Chicago? Rosehill Cemetery, of course. I spent Sunday afternoon at Rosehill filling Find a Grave photo requests. In Section D of Rosehill I was able to locate and fulfill a request to photograph the tombstone of Lena (Lana) Root (1845-1888):</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VgAjYL3ra5K8NKmKgC8i1AgiDhXswZYOrM0gbgnhHb_hSOh9tS-UZ3gZuqFTy1ivbZ9T7Wbq3uRpPu_j8NJLCJx8vW3-rLIdbQRlBP6wzrc3cjyHrvecyCiY_dDnd9qCFVAjFlvOSTJPvDSgsDUl3ttgFmmEotbP8_9hhRgltkdEKC1Dd5iEK682uNQ9/s1344/Root,%20Lana-Lena.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1059" data-original-width="1344" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VgAjYL3ra5K8NKmKgC8i1AgiDhXswZYOrM0gbgnhHb_hSOh9tS-UZ3gZuqFTy1ivbZ9T7Wbq3uRpPu_j8NJLCJx8vW3-rLIdbQRlBP6wzrc3cjyHrvecyCiY_dDnd9qCFVAjFlvOSTJPvDSgsDUl3ttgFmmEotbP8_9hhRgltkdEKC1Dd5iEK682uNQ9/s320/Root,%20Lana-Lena.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After I took that photo I did what I always do: look around and see if there are any interesting or unusual tombstones in the immediate vicinity. Not too far from Lena/Lana Root I spied this tombstone:</span></span></p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPW6Xa6A28GpE4l4JcRkq2HtjuqxtmsSXOfW0UOedrcmL-gvItBYoZDX8EDIKAI2xxSjLZPmAe0VSh2DFzppfRobXeMU_bSOfi23Ia_K9zfXO_8hHEO4iH4Q3YTWQ4yggslXPYi0k-mBANIzVZ8c1Tm9SPWw77x2sp3H6Iy83qUh7mS6ABpNl6dfqKT80O/s2872/Davis.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2872" data-original-width="1726" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPW6Xa6A28GpE4l4JcRkq2HtjuqxtmsSXOfW0UOedrcmL-gvItBYoZDX8EDIKAI2xxSjLZPmAe0VSh2DFzppfRobXeMU_bSOfi23Ia_K9zfXO_8hHEO4iH4Q3YTWQ4yggslXPYi0k-mBANIzVZ8c1Tm9SPWw77x2sp3H6Iy83qUh7mS6ABpNl6dfqKT80O/w384-h640/Davis.jpg" width="384" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p></span><span style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This appears to be the tombstone of someone named D.M.P. Davis and Julia A. Davis. Illegible or unreadable tombstones are always a challenge as we try to recover what time and the elements have worn away. Davis is a common name which can make finding the correct one difficult, but D.M.P. Davis is just rare enough that I should be able to find him. The first place I looked was Find A Grave. No D.M.P. Davis or Julia Davis in Rosehill on Find a Grave.</span></div></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Then I went to Family Search which is a wonderful free site run by the Mormon Church. We know that Mormons are among the best genealogists because tracing their ancestry is a tenet of their religion in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. First I checked to see if someone had already done a Family Tree for D.M.P. Davis and Julia. My query returned 3,066,924 records but not a tree I was looking for.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">One record did pop up, however that looked interesting:</span></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiT2MD7xrXCBkLfnWAQcQxSOf14gwQscwBP-A3pBts0wnDM-8QocVZIAiCXsj0UQBQt5c1aW6VUyjPx0K5AfSMIxe7H04m-gU4R4Zt8UJ2wBobhfihJ7Ue3Qb8ICguPKUt9umufrJF9wB3sdEntNCWADfrBN8tTVbo-6PwHuYidztqPMWnhpCKF-UeoxHCa" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img alt="" data-original-height="84" data-original-width="872" height="77" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiT2MD7xrXCBkLfnWAQcQxSOf14gwQscwBP-A3pBts0wnDM-8QocVZIAiCXsj0UQBQt5c1aW6VUyjPx0K5AfSMIxe7H04m-gU4R4Zt8UJ2wBobhfihJ7Ue3Qb8ICguPKUt9umufrJF9wB3sdEntNCWADfrBN8tTVbo-6PwHuYidztqPMWnhpCKF-UeoxHCa=w796-h77" width="796" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">So I clicked on Daniel M. P. Davis KLRZ-NBG and here is the tree for Daniel Davis and Julia Ann Davis:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipfHICC8B-eaMLP8cqBVgX2l5h_ca16lxCKsoY6n6Yyc0xOXlwg5ZbbhZyogPvDiA0DThon1IMOh9HS5ptgYpsMQVu2yavh-kB9k4NN8Omfo5RknItYQuc73tI-UvauW1Zq7smbm6YaJVrWjfU6ykbrQErJ1ZkNROQZrFsAw44DPnUzgTxiRQK5Lp5LDSD/s329/Davis%20Fan%20tree.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="253" data-original-width="329" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipfHICC8B-eaMLP8cqBVgX2l5h_ca16lxCKsoY6n6Yyc0xOXlwg5ZbbhZyogPvDiA0DThon1IMOh9HS5ptgYpsMQVu2yavh-kB9k4NN8Omfo5RknItYQuc73tI-UvauW1Zq7smbm6YaJVrWjfU6ykbrQErJ1ZkNROQZrFsAw44DPnUzgTxiRQK5Lp5LDSD/w400-h308/Davis%20Fan%20tree.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Well, that was a big help - not. You could barely call it a "tree" because it only had Daniel and Julia on it. But I did have one record: Daniel M.P. Davis and Julia Ann Hoffman were married in Milwaukee, Wisconsin on January 22, 1840. I decided to take these "facts" and see if ancestry.com could provide any additional information.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">The next thing I did was create a Family Tree on ancestry.com for Daniel M.P. Davis and his wife Julia Ann Hoffman. I find that plugging people into a tree make them easier to keep track of and then it allows ancestry to put those "shaking leaves" next to the person when they find a possible clue. Putting these people in a tree also makes it easier to see the relationship of each person in the tree to the others in the tree. Maybe years ago I could have kept track in my head but those days are long gone.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Right away ancestry told me that there was a "David M. Parker Davis" who was born September 16, 1808 in New Hampshire and who died in Chicago on October 8, 1878. Let's see if those match up with the portions of the tombstone we can read:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO3HguRNErVPDF-nrUGNqQKy3S-iKa-nvmWlbuKO9YFExjhI3ekrnEqRMPJBimAmDkOvaLR6y6dbrMDhN1NoDnS7lKvZ2Z6ScWCHzokGDYqNxRr4nQtSlttbGaUSfXyGMiTOUKbgu_fQlH-EaXiVIn0OGdgMrfpxhJE8KM5JFyIVq3ERZLFZGg2NuvEp02/s2872/Davis.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2872" data-original-width="1726" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO3HguRNErVPDF-nrUGNqQKy3S-iKa-nvmWlbuKO9YFExjhI3ekrnEqRMPJBimAmDkOvaLR6y6dbrMDhN1NoDnS7lKvZ2Z6ScWCHzokGDYqNxRr4nQtSlttbGaUSfXyGMiTOUKbgu_fQlH-EaXiVIn0OGdgMrfpxhJE8KM5JFyIVq3ERZLFZGg2NuvEp02/w384-h640/Davis.jpg" width="384" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Looks like we have a match for David M. Parker Davis and his wife Julia Ann Hoffman. So let's see what other information we can "dig up" about them.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Without knowing the names of either David's or Julia's parents, searching for them in census records would be fruitless. The first "Official" record I found for either David or Julia was their marriage record. According to the Wisconsin, U.S., Marriage Records, 1820-2004, Daniel M. P. Davis married Julia Ann Hoffman on January 22, 1840 in Milwaukee, Wisconsin Territory. (Wisconsin didn't become a state until 1848.) They were married by a judge, Timothy Wainwright in Milwaukee. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7pwrhUZagcvdBQrfa202rYeq_8THzGPzQufg3i29F6ndLp65msGyUGN-XlYxFQCk2ndI31zhNZu-AaBG4WMCMErKyz3itXKInpcg1wCK5gfWjBDj2u6Kioj3VaWqg3hQYwYzIcFwDyklRUqqC4SAe1HrDLJhGmy9V3JozZyucD11zXAxXevPttAEil0w/s537/davis%20Marriage.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="537" data-original-width="386" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7pwrhUZagcvdBQrfa202rYeq_8THzGPzQufg3i29F6ndLp65msGyUGN-XlYxFQCk2ndI31zhNZu-AaBG4WMCMErKyz3itXKInpcg1wCK5gfWjBDj2u6Kioj3VaWqg3hQYwYzIcFwDyklRUqqC4SAe1HrDLJhGmy9V3JozZyucD11zXAxXevPttAEil0w/w461-h640/davis%20Marriage.JPG" width="461" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">But I seem to have encountered a problem. Is the man's name "Daniel M.P. Davis" as the marriage record says or is it "David M. P. Davis" as the ancestry record says? Let's take a closer look at that marriage record:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0nrzXmckZBHSMw2NDlkXIjgqXEK5hQBWdFOmfIz6xqD7dXKLtWibkBoabHTZAersZIUsX4nXd0LDk-gtwKtD04Ix-V5MHggdMo8UEryulaD1r_qPiBQQU6QYrcl2SLlroHJxdWVYhiHrXxhvQFcVEiG3jpK3Dirgj8UnGlvDhyYuM7GvuqpAgowJLRWUk/s202/davis%20marriage%20enlarged.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="114" data-original-width="202" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0nrzXmckZBHSMw2NDlkXIjgqXEK5hQBWdFOmfIz6xqD7dXKLtWibkBoabHTZAersZIUsX4nXd0LDk-gtwKtD04Ix-V5MHggdMo8UEryulaD1r_qPiBQQU6QYrcl2SLlroHJxdWVYhiHrXxhvQFcVEiG3jpK3Dirgj8UnGlvDhyYuM7GvuqpAgowJLRWUk/w400-h226/davis%20marriage%20enlarged.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Is the first name Daniel or David? It looks like Daniel to me. I know they don't teach cursive handwriting in the schools anymore and here is a good example of why that is. One man's Daniel is another man's David. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">At this point I decided to broaden my search and look for any records for either a Daniel M. P. Davis or David M. P. Davis. Or could it be possible that there was both a Daniel M.P. Davis and a David M. P. Davis? Brothers, perhaps? As we uncover more records hopefully the correct first name will become apparent.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">The next record that popped up on ancestry.com was the 1860 US Census. I have written numerous times in the past about the fallibility of census records. One could tell the census taker anything they wanted to without having to back anything up with proof. Census records are useful, but you must always look at them with a jaundiced eye.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1860 US Census as presented on ancestry.com finds a Davis family living in Cook County, Illinois, New Trier Township, "Wynetka" Post Office. The census taker visited the Davis family on July 17, 1860. The family consisted of: D. M. Davis (51 years old), Julia (51), and John Chamberlain (19). D. M. Davis said he was a "Horse Dealer" by trade, no occupation was listed for Julia, and John Chamberlain was a "Laborer." Davis said he born in Massachusetts, Julia in New York and Chamberlain in Ireland. Davis said he owned Real Estate worth $10,000,00 ($370,000 in today's funds) and personalty of $2,000.00 ($74,000 in today's funds).</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">No closer to determining if the one we are looking for was Daniel or David. Let's see what other records we can find.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">I went back to Family Search. The only family tree record they show for D. M. P. Davis is the two-person family tree referenced above. Looking at other records, they show an 1840 US Census record for a "David P. M. Davis" in Grafton, </span><span style="text-align: left;">Rensselaer County, New York. The record shows a family of seven people. Of the males: (1) under the age of 5, (1) between 5 and 10, (2) between 10 and 15, (1) between 30 and 40. Of the females: (1) between 10 and 15, and (1) between 20 and 30. Is this "our" Davis family? Unlikely. Remember, D. M. P. Davis married Julia Hoffman in 1840 in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The only male of marriageable age in this census is David P. M. Davis and he is presumably already married and the father of five children. Unfortunately the earlier US Censuses did not go into the details that later censuses did - they were mostly used just to count the number of people. This 1840 census record was the only record for David M. P. Davis showing up on Family Search, so it's back to ancestry.com to see what they show.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">Ancestry.com was able to provide us with additional records that proved useful. </span><span style="text-align: left;">The 1870 US Census finds the Davis family living in Evanston, Cook County, Illinois. The Census Taker came by on June 14, 1870. The family consisted of: David (61 years old), Julia (60), and Domestic Servant Bridget Bulger (22). David said he was born In New Hampshire, Julia in New York and Bridget Bulger in Illinois, although Bridget said both of her parents were "foreign-born." This time around, David listed his occupation as "Speculator," Julia was "Keeping House" although at first glance I thought it said "Keeping Horses," and Bridget was, as indicated, a "Domestic Servant." David reported Real Estate assets of $40,000.00 ($937,000 in today's funds) and personalty of $10,000.00 ($244,000 in today's funds). There was no 1870 record for a Daniel M. P. Davis so I think it is pretty safe to say that Davis' first name was "David." </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Just to confuse matters even more, according to the Chicago Tribune from April 2, 1873. "Parker" Davis was appointed a Justice of the Peace: </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kzq6v-wWSw7NiSzBLYfsTrWKyJwwM4Z5a0clcmzoERjIGISTHe87xE7oyt3LgIrCmFDTPWChJlvHMFUPxyOsP4AGQZIKSoGoLWBwQKUBf5ZmoYMGIlb_dF1C3zubm1459d5cpyWrUk3iDCPDdcp385N6QCJEXpKf0hyLIkHlz4UjgLbh9SYKzMDiMnbH/s495/Tribune%2004.02.1873.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="495" data-original-width="489" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kzq6v-wWSw7NiSzBLYfsTrWKyJwwM4Z5a0clcmzoERjIGISTHe87xE7oyt3LgIrCmFDTPWChJlvHMFUPxyOsP4AGQZIKSoGoLWBwQKUBf5ZmoYMGIlb_dF1C3zubm1459d5cpyWrUk3iDCPDdcp385N6QCJEXpKf0hyLIkHlz4UjgLbh9SYKzMDiMnbH/w395-h400/Tribune%2004.02.1873.JPG" width="395" /></span></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Apparently to his friends he used the name "Parker" instead of "David."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">David M. Parker Davis died on October 8, 1878. Here is his Obituary from the Evanston Index newspaper from October 12, 1878:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="377" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH3I_qelFwMxuCwAHuLAA1VgBqW9uXOGTQzwksMRls8rV_9OE_EGn2niH5GwGLgljaZHTgeLYkrN09vnX7W48Jo-VkSBPLE2Nmh11s8LCsRKAVg2UuX00ZwvlK2cflzwEuH2m21HLyo-YR7bMwmhdEfTG_-EnU0yl7S8-2SeD_ag5SCdiTnVoJXYYOEK9B/s320/Davis%20Obit-2.JPG" width="320" /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As his obituary indicated, David was buried in Rosehill Cemetery.</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAH8qbwudzYNaegvUUPidcIdFtRiBZSPsM3m53kysoViPOr4MfDnxsnE4BpFkfK4P1uC9fmYX0CzmctmxvM_bWh3TZCZDk50SmYWKxBUTtW78x5q-zbbMRAHZwkLJ-me-jS_yR1hxS1e9yGhfb1Bp0hyphenhyphen4Qr8pFKy2v1aB_guwMq27We6pfTSZtbVrY_m23/s2872/Davis%20Only.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2872" data-original-width="1726" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAH8qbwudzYNaegvUUPidcIdFtRiBZSPsM3m53kysoViPOr4MfDnxsnE4BpFkfK4P1uC9fmYX0CzmctmxvM_bWh3TZCZDk50SmYWKxBUTtW78x5q-zbbMRAHZwkLJ-me-jS_yR1hxS1e9yGhfb1Bp0hyphenhyphen4Qr8pFKy2v1aB_guwMq27We6pfTSZtbVrY_m23/w384-h640/Davis%20Only.jpg" width="384" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">David M. P. Davis was dead by the time the 1880 US Census took place, but his widow Julia was not. The 1880 US Census showed Julia Davis living in the "Village of Evanston." The census taker was the well-known Evanstonian Philo P. Judson, and it took place on June 19, 1880. Julia was listed as a "Cousin" of the Head of Household who was O. H. Willis. The family consisted of O.H. Willis (71 years old) a "Retired Merchant," wife Ann Willis (58), sons H. O. Willis (30) a "Merchant Clerk," and Edmond J. (21) a "Clerk." Also listed were Doti Fitsmorris (19) a "Servant." and Julia A. Davis (69). There was a space on the census form for "Sick" and Julia indicated she suffered from "Hay Fever."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Ancestry.com has an extensive collect</span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">ion of Evanston Directories - unfortunately they don't start until 1882 so David does not appear. Julia Davis, however appears in the 1882 Evanston Directory:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGGMFSoA4aIxk9X6XUrZ1arwz8nqqaDc0HnfKDK2DRdEtCNm17X3c8ePNxskENp1t20PVFigLbyKAPlw6N_CAgorVsUXBdnbpPS83eXml4n-7BykuvB3oUcPx-8eXzxZuSQ_iV-AuvZkF9b4DtzC-alqp-dbbuh-6BN0dsIW3mGNpOjAWXk-vDLuf9shwO/s381/Julia%201882.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="22" data-original-width="381" height="41" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGGMFSoA4aIxk9X6XUrZ1arwz8nqqaDc0HnfKDK2DRdEtCNm17X3c8ePNxskENp1t20PVFigLbyKAPlw6N_CAgorVsUXBdnbpPS83eXml4n-7BykuvB3oUcPx-8eXzxZuSQ_iV-AuvZkF9b4DtzC-alqp-dbbuh-6BN0dsIW3mGNpOjAWXk-vDLuf9shwO/w731-h41/Julia%201882.JPG" width="731" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Julia A. Davis, the widow of David P. lived in a house on the East Side of Ridge South of Noyes.</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">She shows up in the 1883 Evanston Directory as the widow of "Parker" Davis:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkHH7iNBS-FT8ycnMEQcR2TC71YXAKQzE81zdr3pbO2B2G3IOzMLx1-qJBZKUPGzvtfgrTvk2zoYWcZQmz7VUa6BD4X6fIW5MJafVDjtiXOU3ZbryK-DZwdTlysVuLVxmI-ANbPPNJKwK8q4Qo0Ls8p0Sa6lFaNmjX9fDA5j4O-vtMeHzxgEDmF6IdhafS/s642/Julia%201873.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="53" data-original-width="642" height="52" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkHH7iNBS-FT8ycnMEQcR2TC71YXAKQzE81zdr3pbO2B2G3IOzMLx1-qJBZKUPGzvtfgrTvk2zoYWcZQmz7VUa6BD4X6fIW5MJafVDjtiXOU3ZbryK-DZwdTlysVuLVxmI-ANbPPNJKwK8q4Qo0Ls8p0Sa6lFaNmjX9fDA5j4O-vtMeHzxgEDmF6IdhafS/w640-h52/Julia%201873.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mrs. Parker Davis, lives in a house on the East Side of Ridge Avenue at North Leon Avenue.</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">The last time she appeared was in the 1884 Evanston Directory:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5WqmVrhgDhry8jNOl8680zZVLJ6TdzwotUUDMJFpSnbGu57MuMoYxOIVUuPJNICXe-sN-AWQKBmereX2Q-bw8ANhbEZnRHpcVJJN_6qBeZS5PD2H5bMCef39ubr4MIwXvX39EX5mg1s5MyuLmldsXnPtsldmsezTyv6wgtoAxGy5qgKQu-omDgvhVa7Mn/s1521/Julia%201884.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="87" data-original-width="1521" height="36" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5WqmVrhgDhry8jNOl8680zZVLJ6TdzwotUUDMJFpSnbGu57MuMoYxOIVUuPJNICXe-sN-AWQKBmereX2Q-bw8ANhbEZnRHpcVJJN_6qBeZS5PD2H5bMCef39ubr4MIwXvX39EX5mg1s5MyuLmldsXnPtsldmsezTyv6wgtoAxGy5qgKQu-omDgvhVa7Mn/w640-h36/Julia%201884.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Davis, Julia A, widow of Parker, lives in a house on the East Side of Ridge Avenue North of Foster.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Julia Ann Hoffman Davis died in Rushford, Minnesota on October 29, 1885. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Here is her Obituary from the Evanston Index from July 29, 1885:</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiysx6HBXUf326bAo-3bEgjI_urowBPhaSl-B7_thHJDl12Z4L7DvUbJu5byrZlQmC0sdcYJHkGwVWddaUp7UKdEv_nyvfYgdJnaoez_MvrmCqyx_NzsP4Cpa8BK0tWP5gM0TVW21J1UgCxe-MPvtAyGFchXEMz38kv78nr7K7UAlPEcWToPLMnksbUNrLR/s451/Evanston%20Index%2031%20Oct%201885-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="135" data-original-width="451" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiysx6HBXUf326bAo-3bEgjI_urowBPhaSl-B7_thHJDl12Z4L7DvUbJu5byrZlQmC0sdcYJHkGwVWddaUp7UKdEv_nyvfYgdJnaoez_MvrmCqyx_NzsP4Cpa8BK0tWP5gM0TVW21J1UgCxe-MPvtAyGFchXEMz38kv78nr7K7UAlPEcWToPLMnksbUNrLR/w400-h120/Evanston%20Index%2031%20Oct%201885-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>DIED.</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"> At Rushford, Minn. October 29, 1885. Mrs. Julia A., wife of the late Parker Davis, of Evanston, Illinois.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;"> Funeral services to-day at 1 o'clock p.m. at Rose Hill.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Evanston Index </span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">July 29, 1885</span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ0UcQNCMb9L4vLQ42KwKi3WA0oemX3dX5R2EfwQsgSJhg1t-9f8VDJtvn4bWoN_I6WWlT5X8zMMSRa1IvxmYS17SBjrqIybiRR2NFjrPNo26SfL6g5C1JsY95QiFlUlbBwaty0B4kMaCYxs90FuUo54Shh-T7YgoX8XIh8NT9EXX4e6X4yRNIsye_waGQ/s762/Davis,%20Julia%20Inter%20Ocean%2010.31.1885.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="116" data-original-width="762" height="98" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ0UcQNCMb9L4vLQ42KwKi3WA0oemX3dX5R2EfwQsgSJhg1t-9f8VDJtvn4bWoN_I6WWlT5X8zMMSRa1IvxmYS17SBjrqIybiRR2NFjrPNo26SfL6g5C1JsY95QiFlUlbBwaty0B4kMaCYxs90FuUo54Shh-T7YgoX8XIh8NT9EXX4e6X4yRNIsye_waGQ/w640-h98/Davis,%20Julia%20Inter%20Ocean%2010.31.1885.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Also from the Chicago Inter Ocean October 31,:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrLAu70bQwW6ofHlePJps2cenIP7ecxHMXYLVfMaV_LW-0FABEqInO0tWmdHIqClyo91oNdlONpi9MXFLOuGHH1Gyq04jWlC78d3DsMvnS-srbK0GNGH20RElqhdaT0SMetsQy24DVLsm9CgZDB25bD2jzgO4g7CAzi38vkM1FeO1KFwJoOETwo5PsO9EN/s762/Davis,%20Julia%20Inter%20Ocean%2010.31.1885.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="116" data-original-width="762" height="98" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrLAu70bQwW6ofHlePJps2cenIP7ecxHMXYLVfMaV_LW-0FABEqInO0tWmdHIqClyo91oNdlONpi9MXFLOuGHH1Gyq04jWlC78d3DsMvnS-srbK0GNGH20RElqhdaT0SMetsQy24DVLsm9CgZDB25bD2jzgO4g7CAzi38vkM1FeO1KFwJoOETwo5PsO9EN/w640-h98/Davis,%20Julia%20Inter%20Ocean%2010.31.1885.JPG" width="640" /></a><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">She was buried next to her husband in Section D of Rosehill:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ9HnX2mEt5Ouge5wnitwiHAPlKiDvrzku66RFtQydWBsQXSx_tj8yD6jaEqo4jeQHxW4fi2VpI0Jy_0StRhvI144PVIQImLk_lH4bZ67PuHQAz9IRwf1tJxT_l_C7Kusq_hqKEKK_otlCGx63hiygUAp0jHN01Fcbcvp4hjrsgKXIAMANMjPU93pOsF9J/s2872/Davis.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2872" data-original-width="1726" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ9HnX2mEt5Ouge5wnitwiHAPlKiDvrzku66RFtQydWBsQXSx_tj8yD6jaEqo4jeQHxW4fi2VpI0Jy_0StRhvI144PVIQImLk_lH4bZ67PuHQAz9IRwf1tJxT_l_C7Kusq_hqKEKK_otlCGx63hiygUAp0jHN01Fcbcvp4hjrsgKXIAMANMjPU93pOsF9J/w384-h640/Davis.jpg" width="384" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Julia A., wife of</span></b></div></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">D. M. P. DAVIS</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Born (Illegible)</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Died Oct 29, 1885</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">That wraps up everything we were able to "dig up" about David M. P. Davis and his wife Julia Ann Hoffman Davis. Since they did not have any children, and we were not able to uncover any of their other relatives, we were limited in the information we were able to find. On the positive side, we were able to (mostly) decipher the tombstone and learn a little about two Evanstonians from days gone by. As mentioned before, the main purpose of this blog is to see that people lost in the mists of time are not forgotten, and we accomplished that for Mr. and Mrs. Davis.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">David M. Parker Davis and Julia Ann Hoffman Davis - two of the thousands of occupants of Rosehill Cemetery - may they rest in peace.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-19511495426507076382023-10-01T05:44:00.002-07:002023-11-06T09:18:41.704-08:00DIED TO SAVE - Earl Strom and Christina Strom Howe<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I started this blog on September 20, 2011. It came about as an offshoot of my work for the website Find a Grave. I started out just filling requests for grave photos. Then over time I started photographing any graves I thought were of interest and posted them to the Find a Grave page if there was one, or created a page if there was not. Under the heading for Under Every Tombstone I wrote, "There is a story under every tombstone." </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Readers of this blog know how much I love Chicago's Rosehill Cemetery. </span><span>As a historian, the preservation of the past is very important to me. </span><span>I am particularly happy whenever I look around Rosehill, because I see history everywhere. Like many cemeteries, </span><span>Rosehill is the final resting place for all kinds of people - the famous and the infamous, politicians and also just plain folks.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Every once in a while I literally stumble over a tombstone that brings a story to light, like the day I stumbled on the side by side graves of Earl Strom and Christina Strom Howe in Section 116:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjZsFCTqL8UZt3IPGFM1yVHvfMFoqRL04hb0gCMViK13H-a5AhusE_z4vbo2FPeSYaydo6ko4qyLyzOFhjk4_iR80dst76o4SuP5MvMx4AacHTYuQFkjVjPE6vrkrKNKgguSnMY0iWVSO4c2qoEcdDjDvWP6ZypBfuMqgfXuoIA3JSXsnkJm5Gc1etaKZL/s1306/Strom%20x%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="733" data-original-width="1306" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjZsFCTqL8UZt3IPGFM1yVHvfMFoqRL04hb0gCMViK13H-a5AhusE_z4vbo2FPeSYaydo6ko4qyLyzOFhjk4_iR80dst76o4SuP5MvMx4AacHTYuQFkjVjPE6vrkrKNKgguSnMY0iWVSO4c2qoEcdDjDvWP6ZypBfuMqgfXuoIA3JSXsnkJm5Gc1etaKZL/w474-h266/Strom%20x%202.jpg" width="474" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">First I saw his:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizmuIwaaoaEY9GRR2spQUJPiw-U5S8_yjIKuVmQQVDy5NP8RosWEVUIhzXjhkUCsVqMFzm7_ifYcIBvrGuln2OGLSzojFAi6ESozk2LedetkxymzACdHSgaToPa2hnGE3xce2USCpj3uj6Obb3q-muJ3MjPFDemnEEwf1GzZmVYSGCg6s6TfHm83xl4agf" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1303" data-original-width="2241" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizmuIwaaoaEY9GRR2spQUJPiw-U5S8_yjIKuVmQQVDy5NP8RosWEVUIhzXjhkUCsVqMFzm7_ifYcIBvrGuln2OGLSzojFAi6ESozk2LedetkxymzACdHSgaToPa2hnGE3xce2USCpj3uj6Obb3q-muJ3MjPFDemnEEwf1GzZmVYSGCg6s6TfHm83xl4agf=w439-h255" width="439" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />Then I saw hers: </span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZqdUgPS_6fHKrkX_Th2tVeX-Ql03H2mrU1hUpn0wh71QT7Ero0m9kE-G_C6Ffhb_EO63Q3k70GBw5Jqo6YRqSqFXo_r4SM4DLqIIn6anF5WKdeT0A5KCbcRs4hPQfNip6HICGX4q06pUEsiQwSiTnKS8rFD5YNkJtUv8kY-BNM1UcaVku_gGpt2kVkYOD/s2309/Howe,%20Christina.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1262" data-original-width="2309" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZqdUgPS_6fHKrkX_Th2tVeX-Ql03H2mrU1hUpn0wh71QT7Ero0m9kE-G_C6Ffhb_EO63Q3k70GBw5Jqo6YRqSqFXo_r4SM4DLqIIn6anF5WKdeT0A5KCbcRs4hPQfNip6HICGX4q06pUEsiQwSiTnKS8rFD5YNkJtUv8kY-BNM1UcaVku_gGpt2kVkYOD/w436-h239/Howe,%20Christina.JPG" width="436" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Before we look into the tragic accident that killed Earl and Christina, let's see what we can find out about them. We'll start with Christina since she was older.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Christina Marie Strom was born in Chicago, Illinois on October 22, 1872. Her parents were Per Elfström Larsson who Americanized his name to "Peter Strom" (1834-1916), and Anna Elisabeth Jacobsdotter Olsson (1832-1906). Peter and Anna were married in 1855 in Sweden. They came to the US in 1870.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Peter and Anna were blessed with nine</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;">children. They are: Peter August (1857-1891), Carl Johan (1860-1864), Erik (1862-1863), Erik's twin sister Mathilda (1862-1893), Oscar (1865-1920), Karolina Wilhelmina (1867-1916), Annie Louisa (1869-1924), Christina Marie (1872-1913) and Elizabeth Marie "Daisy" (1875-1891). The first seven were born in Sweden; the two youngest in Illinois. Peter Strom was a carpenter by trade.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Christina makes her first appearance in the 1880 US Census. The family was living in the "Village of Evanston Lying in Town of New Trier." The family consisted of: Peter (45 years old), Anna (46), "Oskar" (15), Anna (10), "Seno" (8), and Eliza (5). The children, except for Eliza, were all at school. </span><span>Anna could both read and write; Peter could only write. All of the children could both read and write.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1882 Directory for Evanston, Illinois shows Peter Strom, carpenter, living at "Brown's subdivision near Central Av."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1890 US Census for this area is of course, lost. But there is good news to report - on November 26, 1891, Christina Strom married Mr. Francis Marion Howe (1866-1938) in Evanston. The bride was nineteen; the groom was twenty-five. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Francis Marion Howe was born May 5, 1866 in Essex, Illinois, the son of William Harrison Howe (1821-1901) and Cordelia Sophia Partridge (1837-1920). Francis Howe was a clerk in the offices of the Chicago and Alton Railroad. Francis and Christina were blessed with five daughters: Elizabeth Marie "Daisy"/Mrs. Thomas Amore (1893-1978), Eva Gladys/also Mrs. Thomas Amore (1895-1959), Frances Christina/Mrs. Albert Cowan (1896-1969), Lucille Caroline/Mrs. Axel Henriksen (1904-1974), and Leota Louise/Mrs. Louis Brickse (1908-1968). </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1900 US Census shows the Strom/Howe family living in Evanston Township, Illinois. The family consisted of: Francis (34 years old), Christina (27), Daisy (6), Eva (5), and Frances (3). Francis said he was a Carpenter in a Factory. They rented their home, and Francis and Christina could both read and write.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1910 US Census finds the "Hoy" family living at 5139 W. Ainsley (sic) Street in Chicago:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-SXIHOzz47YA2U8uXk8M-s2VJ52CZL7KL4AUgqOyBfrmbtcNigJ5H4l0baFLdXHaEvN-9kRiEIIJlVRZRBQ2GpJ7YnLW4OgDSCWg_VL15J30L9Tfpo76CVPdbMJbo8zM7pl1oup-nVhfYSTtxXURqw8AsXsXVpwZ8A8_vIbn_AljRdCeiCiWX2NOw5lQ/s351/5139%20w%20ainslie%20chicago.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="351" data-original-width="300" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-SXIHOzz47YA2U8uXk8M-s2VJ52CZL7KL4AUgqOyBfrmbtcNigJ5H4l0baFLdXHaEvN-9kRiEIIJlVRZRBQ2GpJ7YnLW4OgDSCWg_VL15J30L9Tfpo76CVPdbMJbo8zM7pl1oup-nVhfYSTtxXURqw8AsXsXVpwZ8A8_vIbn_AljRdCeiCiWX2NOw5lQ/w343-h400/5139%20w%20ainslie%20chicago.JPG" width="343" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">5139 W. Ainslie Street, Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">The family consisted of : Francis "Hoy" (43 years old), Kristine (37), "Lizie" (15), Eva (15), Francis (13), "Luclay"(6), and "Leola" (15/12). Also living with the family was father-in-law Peter Strom (75), and nephew Charles Bors (22). Francis said his occupation was "Manager" of a "Lodge Rail." Francis and Kristine had been married for 18 years; it was the first marriage for both. Kristine had given birth to 5 children; all were still alive in 1910. All of the children except the baby attended school and could both read and write. </div> </span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now we will take a look at the other victim of the drowning tragedy, Christina Strom Howe's nephew, Earl Strom.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Earl Oscar Strom was born in Evanston, Illinois on November 12, 1895 to Oscar Strom (1856-1920) and Emily Charlotte Johnson (1864-1951). </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQJvo_s7vNnSnAH1qlOXbbM4VUZ_hLhQOkp3kvpf7swUpqcqKCh9SSVhJHqLBZvf1aZZVxBz9Rc7JZ0hX0IU2iXmcyhN-DiuKig8QfLW9vHLqZ_5K_93phkm-GoCzrZLUjbAuXdjGdey3_ZEJtaukac2I1dQCesyE6hXmZOXoPcqnGb4dtE2K_KGYzIUJ6/s880/Strom.%20Earl%20Birth%20Certificate.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="565" data-original-width="880" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQJvo_s7vNnSnAH1qlOXbbM4VUZ_hLhQOkp3kvpf7swUpqcqKCh9SSVhJHqLBZvf1aZZVxBz9Rc7JZ0hX0IU2iXmcyhN-DiuKig8QfLW9vHLqZ_5K_93phkm-GoCzrZLUjbAuXdjGdey3_ZEJtaukac2I1dQCesyE6hXmZOXoPcqnGb4dtE2K_KGYzIUJ6/w640-h410/Strom.%20Earl%20Birth%20Certificate.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br />Oscar Strom came to the US from Sweden in 1879; Emily came to the US from Sweden in 1887. </span>Oscar and Emily had been married in September 24, 1892 in Illinois. In addition to Earl, Oscar and Emily had four daughters: Vivian/Mrs. Raymond Oetzel (1894-1987), Florence Helen/Mrs. Albert Meeker (1898-1975), Theolinda/Mrs. James Torbet (1904-1990) and Mabel Vivian/Mrs. Alonzo Mosley, Jr. (1906-1968). Oscar Strom was a Cement Mason by trade. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Earl's father Oscar was the brother of Christina Strom Howe, making her Earl's aunt. </span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: justify;">Other than his birth certificate, </span><span style="text-align: justify;">Earl Strom makes his first appearance in the 1900 US Census. The Strom family is living on Bryant Avenue in Gross Pointe Village, New Trier Township. The family consists of: Oscar (35 years old), Emily (37). Vivian (5), Earl (4), and Florence (2). Oscar and Emily said they had been married for seven years. Emily said she had given birth to three children, and all three were still alive in 1900. Oscar reported his occupation as "Laborer." Oscar said he came to the US in 1870; Emily in 1887. Oscar was a Naturalized Citizen. Oscar could read and write; Emily could not. All the family could speak English. They rented their home on Bryant Avenue. </span></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1910 US Census shows the Strom family living on Ridge Avenue in Gross Point Village, New Trier Township. The family consists of: Oscar (45 years old), Emily (46), Vivian (15), Earl (14), Florence (11), Lina (5), and Mable (4). Oscar and Emily said they had been married for seventeen years, and that it was the first marriage for both. Emily said she had given birth to five children, and all were still alive in 1910. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">That brings us to that fateful day of July 20, 1913 when Christina and Earl were to lose their lives.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Chicago Inter-Ocean newspaper on July 21 reported that a total of five people had drowned in Chicago in a "Raging Lake." "High Waves and Undertow Take Heavy Toll of Life Among Sunday Crowds at Beach." </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwWSQUkcaOleqp8SWm7OFWdW0JByGlvSyjVhn8t07AyJ5H_Z7aOvnRbUR-h_QHTh-3EpwXisxgAY3WwHMHtcH7vjjt13eJe4LxWtn74XcY_VIXxqscr8dVsCh_k6aJOlIt-8fzqrWpOW-3WrZuOM1PvUlTL35EuYFEZa4eK5lqPPvMWPVlM32zDvsQPNB6/s652/21%20Jul%201913-1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="652" data-original-width="546" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwWSQUkcaOleqp8SWm7OFWdW0JByGlvSyjVhn8t07AyJ5H_Z7aOvnRbUR-h_QHTh-3EpwXisxgAY3WwHMHtcH7vjjt13eJe4LxWtn74XcY_VIXxqscr8dVsCh_k6aJOlIt-8fzqrWpOW-3WrZuOM1PvUlTL35EuYFEZa4eK5lqPPvMWPVlM32zDvsQPNB6/w536-h640/21%20Jul%201913-1.JPG" width="536" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="815" height="393" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF8XssJw22GF67prxonZFQ53q7SWTjuYC8W015J6mTibqbuWWowGKV5UWRRhPEdw6hbia2fBKxpG-U8vvzEadBqjQcsRMSId3um_AtsvPfFA0K5MHe77BehxkBz1ZFs03ZyZmF3LbM4SH_rIa3jV4b2DTblWyNgqWhvkRiYPhtPFumNYNl-dpoHsM2VN07/w535-h393/21%20Jul%201913-2.JPG" width="535" /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">There was a dual wake and funeral for Christina Marie (nee Strom) Howe, and her nephew, Earl Oscar Strom on June 21-23, 1913 inside the May Chapel, at Rosehill Cemetery, Chicago, IL. Here is a photo from that wake. You will note the two flower covered caskets standing side by side:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhp7W0cHu_hs7U3dOqINn_VjA06-JjoWIsf0cHzg-4IID4zNXLPdTl42P29gSSG6dw4YI6wK2G5U4Z3ZgNdzpiBgfnknd3vDJPjAh8gfaIIUT-2Hem9UCU0BqcrvhFMhcneIwMfI4fzAG1cYunYoPAepED6yeYqvXIHWBSEeocoILCEfwTzpWJL5yPC7MJ/s356/Strom%20Funeral.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="356" height="475" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhp7W0cHu_hs7U3dOqINn_VjA06-JjoWIsf0cHzg-4IID4zNXLPdTl42P29gSSG6dw4YI6wK2G5U4Z3ZgNdzpiBgfnknd3vDJPjAh8gfaIIUT-2Hem9UCU0BqcrvhFMhcneIwMfI4fzAG1cYunYoPAepED6yeYqvXIHWBSEeocoILCEfwTzpWJL5yPC7MJ/w669-h475/Strom%20Funeral.jpg" width="669" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photo courtesy Steven J. Brickse</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> </div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here is a closeup of the two caskets:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihv0TIzHp4rleTDSOcFICtfidgyX-9nhsBsml_KEAa7n5-VxeVh2YdYAVl0wu4KDRq-r5rpsBViuH4ocXzj50oZ0S5dzI4KCFfyfOnEvSg_51Hw9xYopns7TF3XYPKpQWCoF6OIg10UP3BlDo1ISNERe4k5XcKBmK3I7aCNSgJ58ULCFaqkGOHaJMP0asy/s161/Strom%20Funeral-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="118" data-original-width="161" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihv0TIzHp4rleTDSOcFICtfidgyX-9nhsBsml_KEAa7n5-VxeVh2YdYAVl0wu4KDRq-r5rpsBViuH4ocXzj50oZ0S5dzI4KCFfyfOnEvSg_51Hw9xYopns7TF3XYPKpQWCoF6OIg10UP3BlDo1ISNERe4k5XcKBmK3I7aCNSgJ58ULCFaqkGOHaJMP0asy/w400-h293/Strom%20Funeral-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br /> </span><div><span style="font-size: medium;">They were buried side-by-side in Section 116 of Rosehill Cemetery:</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxo9lov0Mp2Zxcs2rGBZX2iGhhc1qZUIbs-IVbAOyUCKIM7Zhh8BCPIaFplGNqGtVr8yxWUwYY6qmm2GkVcWAelQFbPXDGYA2x0YCtUPC5OUYDPws3Fc8h83_ie0nbcE5_T2Co0KmorJZ0SNQE-LqAMpAkdGPgz6D24qxiKEhvkh3OSfGaRoaPl6H4YYk4/s1306/Strom%20x%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="733" data-original-width="1306" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxo9lov0Mp2Zxcs2rGBZX2iGhhc1qZUIbs-IVbAOyUCKIM7Zhh8BCPIaFplGNqGtVr8yxWUwYY6qmm2GkVcWAelQFbPXDGYA2x0YCtUPC5OUYDPws3Fc8h83_ie0nbcE5_T2Co0KmorJZ0SNQE-LqAMpAkdGPgz6D24qxiKEhvkh3OSfGaRoaPl6H4YYk4/w490-h275/Strom%20x%202.jpg" width="490" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="352" data-original-width="365" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvpcK3Z4Q-Zx0btlWjGWwf_AiNFeqJ6BN5dIs-HWDvdBi6DMsEm-cUess-FGbWuBp-dAkFg9n1SPNgWTaa4jK0H0G9NJHMxBYuMMVDOlyeRjn0x4n0zyFRRTsBuuZnD6xMS_QF2_Rp2NncAn5wOsTUJVzqtSQUBLB82yjRsMce6G-PLP2xkjyWTg8tczts/w200-h193/Strom,%20Earl.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Earl Strom</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAYC9xPYHSnWmBrW8DdOYcSnQBvyKArYp9DHIwdjQvo0SXCGR3igY7q-U6LH1vnOJCJkGU0CeQvK-6oXMKxv0GKsp2A-JPRGMDzpge_yWq22tHHYc7Iyu03rmmhKu0o68BYPDPk_0hgROjJ3vgXxfPquvhHtiO-3sZoUzhbmp-ujr7iwcUlvsBUqIJRvIM/s2241/Stro,%20Earl.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1303" data-original-width="2241" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAYC9xPYHSnWmBrW8DdOYcSnQBvyKArYp9DHIwdjQvo0SXCGR3igY7q-U6LH1vnOJCJkGU0CeQvK-6oXMKxv0GKsp2A-JPRGMDzpge_yWq22tHHYc7Iyu03rmmhKu0o68BYPDPk_0hgROjJ3vgXxfPquvhHtiO-3sZoUzhbmp-ujr7iwcUlvsBUqIJRvIM/s320/Stro,%20Earl.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD9HuL94v0YczzIamvlex9uR42GqvT9N9AjXqLz44F3gJU0pH7aeNW-FOR8TXtBpBZS7SC2m1Jd60GnjdTg6DLAG59tZ1gSzMwn31nqyi5xOp8AQZS_xR7WjGYLwUM5st5lhevtI5VAwtzJwnLY_h3mGZi9ANWxft0Lq5oy-4AubR5lXgmImPybkyVcsVU/s229/Howe,%20Christina-2.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="229" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD9HuL94v0YczzIamvlex9uR42GqvT9N9AjXqLz44F3gJU0pH7aeNW-FOR8TXtBpBZS7SC2m1Jd60GnjdTg6DLAG59tZ1gSzMwn31nqyi5xOp8AQZS_xR7WjGYLwUM5st5lhevtI5VAwtzJwnLY_h3mGZi9ANWxft0Lq5oy-4AubR5lXgmImPybkyVcsVU/s1600/Howe,%20Christina-2.JPG" width="229" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christina Strom Howe</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLvpskG72W-7IPo1eEgJNQT9h0-LE-Isics0dG7zXERSr53IpchivauN48D-1pdlIsEVMSvilhCxvdzaH1chnQc0pd9l-0r1R9OQ_zZZsCZDSNBGId0BUoMh5glILqU3kKBXjLXwgzysm6dtKhtWxRsKO00s_xtKoTy5PWjxbtdA8U-oUi9WyETj2y6c7E/s2309/Howe,%20Christina.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1262" data-original-width="2309" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLvpskG72W-7IPo1eEgJNQT9h0-LE-Isics0dG7zXERSr53IpchivauN48D-1pdlIsEVMSvilhCxvdzaH1chnQc0pd9l-0r1R9OQ_zZZsCZDSNBGId0BUoMh5glILqU3kKBXjLXwgzysm6dtKhtWxRsKO00s_xtKoTy5PWjxbtdA8U-oUi9WyETj2y6c7E/s320/Howe,%20Christina.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Oscar Strom and Christina Strom Howe - each gave their life trying to save another. May they rest in peace.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">What about Eva Howe - the relative they were trying to save? In 1918 she married Thomas Francis Amore, a mechanic and stationary engineer. They had four daughters. Eva Howe Amore died October 29, 1959 at the age of sixty-four. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCB_gfHorQiOB7wM8u_V0aTb3AKyu9pcNbXh6vMEf_GTtAMt-oWhvuN4wPihaNSWWikm0IZ20QKSBQDBdELHDbuWSTM2cc9-oGD9cNQf4Fxs3hwAnG4BYEl-1sEWdKPwOFpH2Lv3_qCBJfkTNzalKQcCuK-8e5Qh8E0XGYLt8REnmZ7ljlW-21C5d2r6Ws/s579/Amore,%20Eva%20Howe.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="412" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCB_gfHorQiOB7wM8u_V0aTb3AKyu9pcNbXh6vMEf_GTtAMt-oWhvuN4wPihaNSWWikm0IZ20QKSBQDBdELHDbuWSTM2cc9-oGD9cNQf4Fxs3hwAnG4BYEl-1sEWdKPwOFpH2Lv3_qCBJfkTNzalKQcCuK-8e5Qh8E0XGYLt8REnmZ7ljlW-21C5d2r6Ws/w285-h400/Amore,%20Eva%20Howe.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eva Howe Amore</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Christina's husband and Eva's father, Francis Marion Howe remarried twice. First to Harriet A. Birdsall (1864-1923) on July 27, 1921. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The second remarriage was to Nellie Maecs (1904-1977) on Christmas Day, 1936. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Francis Marion Howe died April 13, 1938 in Chicago. He was seventy-two years old. here is his Death Notice from the Chicago Tribune of April 14, 1938:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg59PccHPBQMr6CI-7pKUoGL__aiplGAJN_8U_cHPiVPGH45BN-dTBOYPxSKY6J9rqhQ0UVs1So-sMdRs0eganz6PPLFellr0gG5DUH_kNVY8W-hHucG_lwmpOMKdhwhg3mn8YrDsN-RchN66adNbOzdgKjCEGFOV562JOv4IkYm9pm9l5xQuGyANFHBLs2/s398/Howe,%20Francis%20Death%20Notice.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="145" data-original-width="398" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg59PccHPBQMr6CI-7pKUoGL__aiplGAJN_8U_cHPiVPGH45BN-dTBOYPxSKY6J9rqhQ0UVs1So-sMdRs0eganz6PPLFellr0gG5DUH_kNVY8W-hHucG_lwmpOMKdhwhg3mn8YrDsN-RchN66adNbOzdgKjCEGFOV562JOv4IkYm9pm9l5xQuGyANFHBLs2/w400-h146/Howe,%20Francis%20Death%20Notice.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He was cremated at Acacia Park Cemetery in Chicago, and then his ashes were buried May 20, 1938 at rt.-top-corner of footstone of his father, William Harrison Howe at the Oakwood Cemetery in Braidwood, Illinois. </span></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-39095877835919013582023-09-01T04:54:00.004-07:002023-09-17T08:50:16.102-07:00CATHOLIC PRIEST MURDERED IN RECTORY FOR ALTAR WINE - Fr. Florian Chodniewicz<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This headline was published in the Catholic Advance Newspaper (Wichita, Kansas) from the Chicago Wire Services on February 18, 1922:</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_cNZb-FLkl2PgnYrA6q9NrvygvEMOCcIDpjrdtSEDkwI9ihyhZtr4ypepcGX5-kAejiiX-5eJT3Hb4fSwozI6zJVqKrAYx0CjfvgvNfIssWmhCB_6rJygC-kFNGFAS8BIpuOKXyOT3ZNYibWjaMXDmC11bnREYfIoGqUql90fRxxfYcs0YuUz-JelAPLi/s798/Headline%20-%20The_Catholic_Advance_1922_02_18_Page_9.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="184" data-original-width="798" height="93" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_cNZb-FLkl2PgnYrA6q9NrvygvEMOCcIDpjrdtSEDkwI9ihyhZtr4ypepcGX5-kAejiiX-5eJT3Hb4fSwozI6zJVqKrAYx0CjfvgvNfIssWmhCB_6rJygC-kFNGFAS8BIpuOKXyOT3ZNYibWjaMXDmC11bnREYfIoGqUql90fRxxfYcs0YuUz-JelAPLi/w400-h93/Headline%20-%20The_Catholic_Advance_1922_02_18_Page_9.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The newspaper reported the story of the murder of a Catholic priest, the Rev. Florian Chodniewicz in his rectory by someone supposedly looking for a stash of altar wine Fr. Chodniewicz was said to have kept in the rectory basement.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Before we look further in to the murder and aftermath, let's see what else we can "dig up" about Fr. Chodniewicz (pronounced "Hodnevich").</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Florian (sometimes spelled "Floryan" of "Florjan") M. Chodniewicz was born May 3, 1861 in the area referred to in those days as "Russia/Poland to Wincenti Chodniewicz and Ludwika Juszczyk. Wincenti and Ludwika were blessed with eleven children. They are: Florian M. (1861-1922), Franciszka Wiktoria (1864-????), Edward Joseph (1866-1916), Antonina/Mrs. Wincenty Siewierski (1871-????), Apolonia Florentyna (1873-????), Marjanna (1875-????), Katarzyna/Mrs. Wincenty Bednarski (1876-1934), Lucja (1878-????), Pawel (1881-1949), Emilja (1882-????), and Regina (1884-1885). Wincenti Chodniewicz was a pig farmer by trade. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Florian Chodniewicz came to the United States through the Port of New York on May 21, 1889 when he was twenty-eight years old. He was ordained to the Catholic priesthood in Detroit in 1889 by the Rt. Rev. J. S. Foley:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxTBXMzN1jb9ea5R9DDU1CPAPGy7X91wRDqJAMKwyi94BbZXgoij8cLUgDlXv98VXVXIQYBeAPRA5xm0wqM2qolp17GcKcRErBWNPpmTkn22Zk5LtDYF_k-pmnyHWZSnTreYOKnC0MMs6BpzJgRvgej40kO3bxSnC0dJkfykaMxeNBCzOMA0UnjKuXGjYu/s1105/Bishop%20Foley.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1105" data-original-width="873" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxTBXMzN1jb9ea5R9DDU1CPAPGy7X91wRDqJAMKwyi94BbZXgoij8cLUgDlXv98VXVXIQYBeAPRA5xm0wqM2qolp17GcKcRErBWNPpmTkn22Zk5LtDYF_k-pmnyHWZSnTreYOKnC0MMs6BpzJgRvgej40kO3bxSnC0dJkfykaMxeNBCzOMA0UnjKuXGjYu/s320/Bishop%20Foley.jpg" width="253" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bishop John S. Foley</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span>When Bishop Foley was assigned to head up the Detroit Archdiocese in 1888 it was said that Detroit was an impossible assignment. This was mainly due to the many ethnicities that composed the Catholic population. The early settlers of Detroit had been French; these were followed, at different intervals, by Belgians, Germans, Poles, Slavs, and Italians. Things were so bad among the Polish Catholics in Detroit that a group of them broke away </span>from Rome <span>with disastrous</span><span> results </span><span>several years before Foley was sent there</span><span>. Through the grace of his diplomacy, Bishop Foley was able to heal the Polish schism shortly after his arrival in Detroit. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span>Here is a photo of a young Fr. Chodniewicz, about the time of his Ordination:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj76ngMN4MxuAeZGgGyIR-gU9zF-095RRJtxAkCGxKBgMqzAVeVABpNA0w57dQhuERWBnN8V_4_EaoV522Wdq4sbdbpVeZ1Ry1cWKNdfZshYAUjEX-4K-NNLbTv_FUOwlKTL6WMjfpCCbm72H0DZMsLcy2WBqswlBaMKnPqEXuW39d-EQ42hjBzN_g_nMJu/s213/florianrev.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="213" data-original-width="173" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj76ngMN4MxuAeZGgGyIR-gU9zF-095RRJtxAkCGxKBgMqzAVeVABpNA0w57dQhuERWBnN8V_4_EaoV522Wdq4sbdbpVeZ1Ry1cWKNdfZshYAUjEX-4K-NNLbTv_FUOwlKTL6WMjfpCCbm72H0DZMsLcy2WBqswlBaMKnPqEXuW39d-EQ42hjBzN_g_nMJu/w260-h320/florianrev.jpg" width="260" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Father Florian Chodniewicz</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>After ordination, Fr. Chodniewicz's first assignment was as Assistant Pastor of St. Josaphat's Church in Detroit.</span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSWmKfqgK6mqwA77Vlng7M2SAyU7O-ktdJovFrVi7Rfw6eHDVUj4cp6HuYGzhwjS0rubWv_FMFDnRaHiEIO95QRc6TKYNasBd0sgYi07uPVzgVbAx0K0jY2ub5R-wFwFp9ZIVCPaXSSdK0-IgaUA6EP0ObaHbCPDEUBNK0ndpYtIvXjx6p9DMdeSzqnoSh/s2388/StJosephats%20Detroit.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2388" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSWmKfqgK6mqwA77Vlng7M2SAyU7O-ktdJovFrVi7Rfw6eHDVUj4cp6HuYGzhwjS0rubWv_FMFDnRaHiEIO95QRc6TKYNasBd0sgYi07uPVzgVbAx0K0jY2ub5R-wFwFp9ZIVCPaXSSdK0-IgaUA6EP0ObaHbCPDEUBNK0ndpYtIvXjx6p9DMdeSzqnoSh/w268-h400/StJosephats%20Detroit.jpg" width="268" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Josaphat's Catholic Church, Detroit</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1893 he became Pastor of St. Albertus Church in Detroit:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsZxTXsvfElIr7g1h6zVtb-9LMUF-X0-rlqnfjkZzo6lzk_r8yvINgG6Go-9DiOQ1g5AM93ANP_exZCihbOxmkS2bkyFueZBpxnNiAwK3yHWGeyJlO7pzdtdbBFg7NxtHDU6w8r0wu4ACADH79d0bgKNIPq8nmbp3hoI71LCNDK6-VvsVriVRHklfy2x7/s2340/StAlbertus.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2340" data-original-width="1800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsZxTXsvfElIr7g1h6zVtb-9LMUF-X0-rlqnfjkZzo6lzk_r8yvINgG6Go-9DiOQ1g5AM93ANP_exZCihbOxmkS2bkyFueZBpxnNiAwK3yHWGeyJlO7pzdtdbBFg7NxtHDU6w8r0wu4ACADH79d0bgKNIPq8nmbp3hoI71LCNDK6-VvsVriVRHklfy2x7/w308-h400/StAlbertus.jpg" width="308" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Albertus Catholic Church, Detroit</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I was not able to ascertain exactly why Fr. Chodniewicz left Detroit and became incardinated in Chicago. It may have been because of the huge population of Poles in Chicago. They used to say there were more Poles in Chicago than there were in Warsaw. Whatever the reason, on May 20, 1900 he was appointed Pastor of St. Columba's Church at 13305 S. Green Bay Avenue in the Hegewisch neighborhood of Chicago. At that time, St. Columba's was the southern-most parish in the City of Chicago. </span> </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSLX0ogxT5Jg_wifniQCLNoD6pA18TpnYAEAeORJKr4RMTjCeyh46MWyGRg_ouL1hA-zKzD-A6FYpApMhqzsIo3oJcbN5TFCPWpRSwbcPj0DvDrn8NDzGAP9wSSkFi-9pz0WNzJIr8i7x8fE_hp8bTFFqcN-Dps-SsGa4SjHyzSYpIMKJtFlvK3fEoX0c5/s1884/St.%20Columba's%20Church.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1464" data-original-width="1884" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSLX0ogxT5Jg_wifniQCLNoD6pA18TpnYAEAeORJKr4RMTjCeyh46MWyGRg_ouL1hA-zKzD-A6FYpApMhqzsIo3oJcbN5TFCPWpRSwbcPj0DvDrn8NDzGAP9wSSkFi-9pz0WNzJIr8i7x8fE_hp8bTFFqcN-Dps-SsGa4SjHyzSYpIMKJtFlvK3fEoX0c5/w400-h311/St.%20Columba's%20Church.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Columba's Church at the time of Fr. Chodniewicz</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The parishioners were mostly Polish with a small number of non-Polish parishioners.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The census-taker for the 1900 US Census came to Fr. Chodniewicz on June 4, 1900. As you can imagine, the Anglo census taker, Dorsey E. Collins had trouble understanding the Polish-speaking Fr. Chodniewicz. The Rectory for the parish was at 13309 Avenue O in Chicago. The census taker reported Fr's name as "Rev. F. Choderwitz." Fr. Chodniewicz said he was born in May of 1854, making him 46 years old. He was, of course, Single. He was born in Poland, as were his parents. He came to the United States in 1890, and had been here for 10 years. He said he was a Naturalized citizen, but he actually was not naturalized until 1906. He could read, write and speak English. He lived in a house, and did not own it. In addition to Fr. Chodniewicz, there was a housekeeper, Otilioj Lieske, from Germany who was thirty-two years old. Both Father and the housekeeper were employed for all twelve previous months.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1905 Archbishop Edward Quigley gave permission to Fr. Chodniewicz to build a new church for the Polish-speaking people in Hegewisch. The church he built was a frame church, 90 by 40 feet. The cost of the church was $10,000.00 ($350,000 in today's funds). Fr. Chodniewicz was appointed First Pastor of the new "St. Florian's Church" on October 22, 1905 and the little congregation of English-speaking people left at St. Columba's was handed over to the care of the Carmelites of St. Cyril College who appointed Fr. Lawrence Diether, O.C.C. as Fr. Chodniewicz' replacement. About 100 families and 200 single men or men who had left their families in Poland became the first parishioners of St. Florian's. It is not noted whether Fr. Florian Chodniewicz picked the name for the new parish himself or not. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On September 25, 1906, Florian Chodniewicz became an American citizen:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYgYkDC4u1wYGef04dRnNMsxHEvHpwQontV4AtKOnj9fYIm28noi_ea3oiSao1XOwIpdJoB5Ah9aibIJT4UFuvTzq0dAnyUEZm6dXdNe6xdr2I7duv3cCvLs0mfs1FgFoc_27JmpADdQm04h5z1EAXxMUM00i3jg4oLxZ3RrS1GCp0Orh_70pqXQKYAN_P/s544/Naturalization.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="331" data-original-width="544" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYgYkDC4u1wYGef04dRnNMsxHEvHpwQontV4AtKOnj9fYIm28noi_ea3oiSao1XOwIpdJoB5Ah9aibIJT4UFuvTzq0dAnyUEZm6dXdNe6xdr2I7duv3cCvLs0mfs1FgFoc_27JmpADdQm04h5z1EAXxMUM00i3jg4oLxZ3RrS1GCp0Orh_70pqXQKYAN_P/w400-h244/Naturalization.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Note that his naturalization records show Fr. Chodniewicz' Date of Birth as May 3, 1861. I don't know where the 1900 US Census taker got the date of May, 1854. </span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1907 Archbishop Quigley gave permission for Fr. Chodniewicz to build a school for the parish. The school was brick, three stories, 78 by 58 feet, Roman style. Eight Classrooms upstairs, and on the first floor a parish hall. The cost of the school building was $35,000.00 ($1,132,388 in today's funds). The school was opened in 1908. Four Franciscan nuns took care of about 200 children. Year after year the number of children grew larger and by 1920 nine nuns looked after five hundred children all by themselves. In those days in the Catholic schools there were no "teachers' aides" or "teaching assistants." </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>The 1910 US Census shows Florian Chodniewicz still living at 13142 S. Erie Street in Chicago. He said he was forty-eight years old and Single. He said he was born in Russia-Poland as were his parents. He said he came to the United States in 1887 (it was 1889) and that he was a Naturalized Citizen. He said that he lived in a house, and that he owned it free and clear. He said he could speak, read and write English and that his occupation was "Pastor" of a "Catholic Church."</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>His housekeeper Othilia Leske was still with him. She was now forty-six years old. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>In 1913 Fr. Chodniewicz was given permission to build a pressed-brick rectory. It was about this time that the parish had grown so much that it was decided to give Fr. Chodniewicz an assistant, the first of which was Fr. F. Tyrcha.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1920 a book was put together that gave the history and current status of each parish in the Archdiocese of Chicago. St. Florian's reported that it had four men's societies with a total of 300 members. The societies belonged to either the Polish National Alliance or the Polish Roman Catholic Union and in addition to spiritual support, also provided a cash benefit upon the death of one of its members.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There were two women's societies with 200 members and have the same purpose as the men's societies - to provide spiritual and financial benefits to the members. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fr. Chodniewicz put a value on St. Florian's of $69,000.00 ($1.041 million today). Not bad for a parish that was only fifteen years old. These were the glory days of the Archdiocese of Chicago - churches were being built, not closed.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEios5YmC4GTmdw1DoY25TI35J9_IsOAkij6lsNDCIWPSPdamwqzwlaDeUhAICMMpx_fiWDmt-RLefVFZUwDL9M3Q_YPQi-1bbtKbhL2Qfo3RPETX057N6L5yxbZpB78ovS4gavMOo1DHVbL8Q7z1uWX59OBLBHugyecRYyPKIoj06NGzi0pRSmNWHU-_rjK/s1881/St.%20Florian's%20in%201920.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1407" data-original-width="1881" height="489" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEios5YmC4GTmdw1DoY25TI35J9_IsOAkij6lsNDCIWPSPdamwqzwlaDeUhAICMMpx_fiWDmt-RLefVFZUwDL9M3Q_YPQi-1bbtKbhL2Qfo3RPETX057N6L5yxbZpB78ovS4gavMOo1DHVbL8Q7z1uWX59OBLBHugyecRYyPKIoj06NGzi0pRSmNWHU-_rjK/w655-h489/St.%20Florian's%20in%201920.jpg" width="655" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Florian's in 1920</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1920 US Census shows Florian Chodniewicz living at 13145 S. Houston Avenue in Chicago. He said he was fifty-eight years old and Single. He said he had immigrated in 1890 (correct) and became a Naturalized Citizen in 1908 (it was 1906). He could read and write English, but he was born in Poland and his Mother Tongue was Polish. He listed his occupation as "Pastor, St. Florian's Church."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fr. Chodniewicz' former housekeeper was no longer with him. She was replaced by Stephana Lichota, age 20, from Poland. Also living in the rectory was the janitor of the school, Charles Majewski (age 30), also from Poland. Unfortunately this was the last US Census Fr. Chodniewicz would be alive to participate in.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">According to newspaper accounts of the time, Fr. Chodniewicz was upstairs in his room in the rectory late in the afternoon of Friday January 27, 1922. He heard a noise coming from the basement and went downstairs to investigate. Opening the door to the basement he saw a man who then shot Fr. Chodniewicz in the leg and back. Father Chodniewicz fell down the stairs and the burglar escaped. Profusely bleeding, Fr. Chodniewicz dragged himself to the base of the stairs but then lost consciousness. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Upon hearing gunshots, the housekeeper, janitor and several parishioners who were in the church ran to the rectory to investigate, and found Fr. Chodniewicz at the foot of the stairs in a pool of his own blood. They immediately called in Dr. John Czachorski who administered first aid to Father Chodniewicz who was then transported still alive to St. Mary of Nazareth Hospital. Once at the hospital, they attempted to stabilize him and prep him for surgery the next morning to repair the damage from the bullets. Unfortunately he had lost too much blood, and passed away about 8 p.m. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Polish newspaper Dziennik Chicagoski told the story in their edition of January 28, 1922. In addition to the facts related above, they reported that the Last Sacraments were administered to Fr. Chodniewicz by Fr. Tomasz Bona, chaplain of St. Mary of Nazareth Hospital, Fr. Stanislaw Dabrowiak from Bridgeport and Fr. Henryk Piepenkotter from Hammond, Indiana, all friends of Fr. Chodniewicz.:</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqz3x-3020qT4SnVSJW4nv89mHy4DCyfB_8rCgk6OWxer-a7Ilpb1iVEwVxwIjULbJqHFVFxc3U9OBfznDfUniu-XufW4TFcyOvk6QsSIKWQjdrmuMUrSrd_oxpeeaMhRfsX4w8BQ_4wsqdgXj-85ZCCSuFAiQFBZFiGs6AKpW5RQ542hJ3UIbovjcwZwr/s5264/Dziennik_Chicagoski_1922_01_28_page_3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5264" data-original-width="952" height="1727" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqz3x-3020qT4SnVSJW4nv89mHy4DCyfB_8rCgk6OWxer-a7Ilpb1iVEwVxwIjULbJqHFVFxc3U9OBfznDfUniu-XufW4TFcyOvk6QsSIKWQjdrmuMUrSrd_oxpeeaMhRfsX4w8BQ_4wsqdgXj-85ZCCSuFAiQFBZFiGs6AKpW5RQ542hJ3UIbovjcwZwr/w313-h1727/Dziennik_Chicagoski_1922_01_28_page_3.jpg" width="313" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Why would someone break into a rectory late on a Friday afternoon? There were no large sums of money there - the Sunday collection money had long been taken away and deposited in the bank. The rumor was that Fr. Chodniewicz had a large amount of altar wine stored in the basement of the rectory, and that was what the crook was after. Prohibition which had started in 1920 was in full swing by early 1922 and a large stash of wine would be a big temptation to anyone looking for liquor. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Requiem Funeral Mass was held Wednesday, February 1, 1922. The celebrant was the Most Rev. Edward Hoban, then an auxiliary bishop of the Archdiocese of Chicago.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1TbTGCwPnLJ0UZg63A322CpMXIefyoP6G-kYwuQGomKj_mXLePFlPlwpSd3RoXCoj426utdreJVwZsy4brvZrb1xge4hcnN0rTDI0Be8GGLD1oInzvA9K6ufWR4kyFDHkcFYEPYaTTRW2rN3_D8EpC0og2vbmnbDPkeS-qyLyPCvN3E3C6j8JVmsJjPH/s333/Bishop-Hoban-final.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="233" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1TbTGCwPnLJ0UZg63A322CpMXIefyoP6G-kYwuQGomKj_mXLePFlPlwpSd3RoXCoj426utdreJVwZsy4brvZrb1xge4hcnN0rTDI0Be8GGLD1oInzvA9K6ufWR4kyFDHkcFYEPYaTTRW2rN3_D8EpC0og2vbmnbDPkeS-qyLyPCvN3E3C6j8JVmsJjPH/s320/Bishop-Hoban-final.jpg" width="224" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bishop Edward Hoban</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fr. Chodniewicz was buried in Holy Cross Cemetery, Calumet City, Illinois, on February 1, 1922 in the St. Michael Section, Block K, S 1/2 of Lot 36. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Of course the flush-with-the-ground marker had sunk and was almost completely obliterated by the grass that had grown over it. Luckily I was able to locate and dig out Fr. Chodniewicz' grave. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1492" data-original-width="2616" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_w9gaqFFtUdj6fnn0UPNBz__VDtXkqEY8LRCLS9fpkvT67rn-o9KjEhI0sK-C0ef9ofby5_JTmWzjE-SKcw7IA1MGKeeF7PqK0e57DvcU_Fo2tf4Cj6hbjXJIwZaFWDWr_CYdYVja9RpVTqAae-ZfLVGSn-6hLpSFZEnXDVJ8SWjPVmWyo499WIcl9s8O/w510-h292/Chodniewicz%20grave-1.jpg" width="510" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2475" data-original-width="3538" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHjaeoTvAubEDF5IyswpJlqnYHpUqxlnXU9yokzibSDmUCtYtFrAqaLuQx-wrfXjzApTIT4-BdT3QED2Up5gpxQRR_OBtp5h02fqFIpuPW0ToWpmF4bfXxZXVAQ3kt5iKc3aNciJZF9GzScftTXHgcJ-Y5h4AK4YJOmjYHGvtEmfSO7bnnQ8wxylNoLxF/w522-h365/Chodniewicz%20Grave-2.jpg" width="522" /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Chicago Police Department assured the public that they would catch the murderer of Fr. Chodniewicz "in a matter of days." In fact, newspapers reported an arrest in the case as reported in the Rock Island Argus of May 26, 1922:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz2ZiNY3EUoksg0k-Cxf1e9YSz_HK_ycTB5abgrwo0-yDobO6fBVJ1-BYSJOpjEsbrDlRdg0amhUxFDEQirto4LtvpaWlZsX4EdXEWPTe-uqtytwQ__iC58nrqqL9yPKamLE_k6tmPGEdcePnNXHy8fM_zM94OACvTq375tgjdBvVHosIK9tJAFwq6cl6c/s483/May%2026,%201922.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="483" data-original-width="256" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz2ZiNY3EUoksg0k-Cxf1e9YSz_HK_ycTB5abgrwo0-yDobO6fBVJ1-BYSJOpjEsbrDlRdg0amhUxFDEQirto4LtvpaWlZsX4EdXEWPTe-uqtytwQ__iC58nrqqL9yPKamLE_k6tmPGEdcePnNXHy8fM_zM94OACvTq375tgjdBvVHosIK9tJAFwq6cl6c/w340-h640/May%2026,%201922.JPG" width="340" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But there was not enough evidence to take to a trial, so the couple was ultimately released. The fact is, the trail went cold and time passed as the hope lessened that there would ever be justice for Fr. Florian Chodniewicz.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">1922 passed into 1923 with nothing new on the case. 1923 passed into 1924 and it became more and more apparent that the murder would never be solved. Finally, in March of 1924, a break in the case from the Chicago Tribune of March 3, 1924:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0U9ahiRnfm4s5hkQjO3W7fjoArrqOcRJvaTSQZzHO8wdpplP7p6BBjmbnsTamsJ-Z5M1kZ9nHIFwIVsa3gFYNNjqHtzVPmjoPswFezxOwf6dUDXXNBzT6MyBGjroxpLX4tl5av2eCtAiPyN4kKFkSzy86h4xmriQGd3ETQFRfX3hLd-4gG0egmNJxs5FN/s3956/Chicago_Tribune_1924_03_03_page_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3956" data-original-width="809" height="1725" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0U9ahiRnfm4s5hkQjO3W7fjoArrqOcRJvaTSQZzHO8wdpplP7p6BBjmbnsTamsJ-Z5M1kZ9nHIFwIVsa3gFYNNjqHtzVPmjoPswFezxOwf6dUDXXNBzT6MyBGjroxpLX4tl5av2eCtAiPyN4kKFkSzy86h4xmriQGd3ETQFRfX3hLd-4gG0egmNJxs5FN/w350-h1725/Chicago_Tribune_1924_03_03_page_1.jpg" width="350" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3HLkeMMFcIS2f4K-PRKj1HgCuQ5G3gynE9KZOktKZObvoiJK_M5TBMAjXc2L5aVLatAIBIRNQAAkYP-qLB94I3cFdmQG7o5d4DWnvDKYmoyNPIHXLCqVFHCHlLN4Dwk7F-2bTBhRmfZ3d7M569E7PYUBmiytkg-JEQ4eYmn6XAqV7_dc6vI9ToIEqYAwe/s438/Frenenski.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="438" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3HLkeMMFcIS2f4K-PRKj1HgCuQ5G3gynE9KZOktKZObvoiJK_M5TBMAjXc2L5aVLatAIBIRNQAAkYP-qLB94I3cFdmQG7o5d4DWnvDKYmoyNPIHXLCqVFHCHlLN4Dwk7F-2bTBhRmfZ3d7M569E7PYUBmiytkg-JEQ4eYmn6XAqV7_dc6vI9ToIEqYAwe/w400-h304/Frenenski.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fr. Chodniewicz died without ever having made a formal Last Will and Testament. On February 4, 1922 John A. Czachorski and Leo F. Sankey wrote down what they said was his Last Will and Testament which he "made by word of mouth" in their presence at his home lying on his deathbed on January 27, 1922. This must have taken place while they were making arrangements to transport Fr. Chodniewicz to the hospital after he was shot. Here are Fr. Chodniewicz' final wishes as reported by the two witnesses:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><u>FLORIAN CHODNIEWICZ</u></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>WILL.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT of Rev. Father FLORIAN CHODNIEWICZ, of Chicago, Illinois, made by word of mouth and in contemplation of death and during his last illness while the said Florian Chodniewicz, now deceased, lay on his death bed, dying from the effect of gun shot wounds to his person. The said Florian Chodniewicz, by word of mouth and in our presence and at his home in the City of Chicago on the 27th day of January, A.D. 1922 made the following disposition of his property;</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>I request that the Rev. Father Henry Piepenkotter act as executor of this, my last will and testament and take care of and look after the disposition of my property.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>I further request and direct that he pay all my just debts and funeral expenses out of my said estate and also out of my said estate he pay to the Saint Florian Roman Catholic Parish of Hegewisch, of which I am the pastor, the sum of Six Thousand ($6,000.00) Dollars, being money belonging to said Parish now in my possession as its Pastor; I further give to the said Parish the piano I now have in my home and I further give to the said parish any and all title and interest which I may have in or to the Parish House or Rectory. (Note 1)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>I further give to the said Parish all the plots or parcels of land that I may own or have an interest in that are situated in the block bounded by Houston and Baltimore Avenues, 131st Street and 132nd Street in the City of Chicago, being the block on which the church, school, and rectory now stands.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>I desire to give to the Rev. Father Henry Piepenkotter, in trust, the sum of Five Hundred Dollars ($500.00) for the purpose of having Holy Masses said for the repose of my soul and in addition, I further direct that he have 200 Masses said for my personal intentions. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>I further desire to give to my two nephews, now students at school, all my books and library.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>I further desire to give to my sister, Mrs. Bednarska, of #13146 Houston Avenue, Chicago, Illinois, all the remainder of my estate, both real and personal, including all the shares of stock I may own in the Manhattan Lumber Company, and any and all monies, securities or mortgages I may have with the firm of Kramer and O'Connor, and all other monies, notes, mortgages or other securities, and all other property, both real and personal that I may own or possess. (Note 2)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>The foregoing was reduced to writing and signed by us in the presence or each other as witnesses to the last will and testament as made by word of mouth by the said testator on the 27th day of January, A.D. 1922 and signed by us this 4th day of February, A. D. 1922.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> (s) John A. Czachorski.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> (s) Leo F. Sankey.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> <span> </span></span>We the undersigned, hereby certify that the above and foregoing will was committed to writing and signed by the above named witnesses in our presence this 4th day of February, A.D. 1922, the same being within ten days after the death of the said testator.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> (s) Ignatius T. Fleming.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> (s) Leo Fleming. </span> </span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Nuncupative -</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Will proved and admitted to record in open Court, this 24th day of July, A.D. 1923.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> (s) Ray Sesler</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> <span> </span> Acting Probate Judge</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">STATE OF ILLINOIS, )</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> ) SS</span><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;">County of Cook.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;"> )</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">In the Probate Court of Cook County, proved and admitted to record in open Court this 24th Day of July, A.D. 1923.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>(s) John F. Devine</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> Clerk.</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span><span><span style="font-size: medium;">Filed - February 6th, 1922, John F. Devine, Clerk.</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">(Note 1): In those days it was not unusual for a Roman Catholic pastor to have one bank account into which he deposited parish funds and his own personal funds. If he needed money to pay a bill or for his personal expenses he withdrew money from the co-mingled funds. This was not illegal, but the pastor was supposed to report any funds he withdrew from the account for personal expenses as Income and pay Income Tax on them. This was still the custom into the 1980s in Chicago where the late John Cardinal Cody deposited his personal funds into the Holy Name Cathedral bank account and withdrew them as needed.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">(Note 2): There are two types of priests in the Roman Catholic Church. There are what are called "Order" priests who belong to a Religious Order such as Dominicans, Jesuits, Carmelites, etc. The other type of priest is a "Diocesan" priest who does not belong to an Order, he is an employee of the diocese in which he serves. Order priests typically take vows of Poverty, Chastity and Obedience, so they do not own anything themselves - no money or material possessions. Diocesan priests do not take a vow of Poverty and are permitted to have possessions including a car, cash, securities, etc. Fr. Chodniewicz was a Diocesan priest so he was permitted to own the stock, securities, mortgages or cash he referred to in his will.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So, what happened to Fr. Chodniewicz' confessed killer, Edward Frenenski? First I checked newspapers.com. Other than a report that he had been booked for the killing, there were no further mentions of Edward Frenenski in any of the hundreds of newspapers covered by newspapers.com. Then while working on another article I ran across a reference to a searchable database called "Homicide in Chicago 1870-1930" (<a href="http://homicide.northwestern.edu/database/">http://homicide.northwestern.edu/database/</a>) If you check the database for Florian Chodniewicz here is what you'll find:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>DATE OF OFFENSE: JANUARY 27, 1922</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span> Victim Name: Chodniewicz, Rev. F. M.</span><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><i><span> Defendant Name: Majewski, Charles</span><br /></i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span><i><br /></i></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span><i><span> Address: 13145 Houston ave.</span><br /></i></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span><span><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span><span><i><span> Case Number: 5858</span><br /></i></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span><span><span><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span><span><span><i><span> Case Description: Chodniewicz, Rev. F. M. - Age 60 Fatally shot in his home, 13145<span><span> </span></span>Houston Av., by an unidentified burglar who escaped. 8 Dist.</span><br /></i></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span><span><span><span><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span><span><span><span><i><span> 5/26/22 Charles Majewski arrested</span><br /></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span> 9/21/22 Nolle Prossed - Hayes</span><br /></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span> <span> </span>On 3/3/24 one Edward Frenenski arrested for Ly and Con Game. He "confessed" this murder but was not booked on that charge. </span><br /></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h4 style="box-sizing: inherit; color: #363636; font-family: "Nunito Sans", -apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", Arial, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 3px; line-height: 1.125; margin: 0px 0px 0.8em; padding: 0px; text-align: start; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></h4></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>I was unable to uncover anything more about </span><span>what (if anything) happened to </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">Edward Frenenski, </span><span style="font-size: large;">the confessed murderer of Fr. Chodniewicz.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I was also unable to find out anything further about Frenenski's former girlfriend who turned him in, Mrs. Mary Zimbinski.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Father Florian Chodniewicz - one of thousands of Catholic priests who came from native lands around the world to the great melting pot of the United States to minister to the spiritual needs of the faithful. His life was taken for a purported stash of altar wine by a fellow countryman who hated all Catholic Priests.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">May Fr. Chodniewicz rest in peace. </span></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-18564249920554866542023-08-01T05:49:00.001-07:002023-08-01T06:02:53.960-07:00EVANSTON'S LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER FROM 1888 to 1924 - Captain Edwin J. Moore<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Recently, the Evanston History Center (formerly the Evanston Historical Society) posted this photo on their Facebook page:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFmqIvLMelMawZ80TcP93SxH94EQ-Ax29Ul6FOZzb1Abj7lmB3vYB6LwSZtY_zsTFkfnlE_uvPHxx8-IYw2lNavA1DoN3CSKUyg3FqNoVwWymlbWiEkkRo0eMKj7DqA-rvJKEXhs_iz46c34ko_b4G2jUq0suftjuXDNTiXUlXk9tkZcmTj4hm7vu8f_Xm/s1436/Bessie%20Moore.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1015" data-original-width="1436" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFmqIvLMelMawZ80TcP93SxH94EQ-Ax29Ul6FOZzb1Abj7lmB3vYB6LwSZtY_zsTFkfnlE_uvPHxx8-IYw2lNavA1DoN3CSKUyg3FqNoVwWymlbWiEkkRo0eMKj7DqA-rvJKEXhs_iz46c34ko_b4G2jUq0suftjuXDNTiXUlXk9tkZcmTj4hm7vu8f_Xm/w400-h283/Bessie%20Moore.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">With this caption: <i>Bessie Moore, pictured with her dog on the Evanston lakefront. Moore was the daughter of Evanston's lighthouse keeper Edwin J. Moore and Mary Moore. She attended Evanston Academy, where she played on the girls basketball team.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As an Evanston native I was of course, familiar with the Evanston Lighthouse - or as it is more correctly titled: The Grosse Point Lighthouse. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCWEEL5twC4MZ1L9LN1cWsh27C6rbUQWZBZcmJdvISbfvgtIFi8lgALFJZg1Q0Ndavz9tKKa7SieThtRh8AVxTsFtqiO6D9iGHF5UkXNMeZkYd8TXCkAOs-oNk71KJQs_Ppj87P_iJ2wjtB84b7CbBJmFZAACFbJJBlhloQkGMgoAIvP57ePUkNIkqLldV/s752/Lighthouse.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="752" data-original-width="564" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCWEEL5twC4MZ1L9LN1cWsh27C6rbUQWZBZcmJdvISbfvgtIFi8lgALFJZg1Q0Ndavz9tKKa7SieThtRh8AVxTsFtqiO6D9iGHF5UkXNMeZkYd8TXCkAOs-oNk71KJQs_Ppj87P_iJ2wjtB84b7CbBJmFZAACFbJJBlhloQkGMgoAIvP57ePUkNIkqLldV/w300-h400/Lighthouse.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Grosse Point Lighthouse</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I never thought about a lighthouse keeper, but it sounded like a story that would be perfect for this blog, and you know how much I like pictures of people with their dogs, so here it is:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Edwin James Moore was born October 3, 1855 in Kentucky to Henry Moore (1809-1897) and Julia Rhines (1824-1901). Julia's last name was sometimes spelled "Rhynes" and "Rheines". Henry Moore was from Darbyshire, England was a Tailor by trade. It is not known specifically when he emigrated, but it was before 1843 when Henry married Julia in New York. </span><span style="font-size: medium;">Julia Rhines was born on December 24, 1824 in Sharon, New York. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Henry and Julia had 8 children. They are: Julia/Mrs. Aaron Sheridan (1844-1878), Edwin James (1855-1924), Alfred Henry (1856-1940), Frea (1859-1859), Ella Belle "Nellie"/Mrs. Nelson Bryant (1861-1935), Kathryne Adele "Kittie"/Mrs. John Quinsey (1863-1941), Major Menzo (1868-1917), and John Brewster (1869-1945).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Edwin makes his first official appearance in the 1860 US Census. The Henry Moore family was living in Bristol, Kendall County, Illinois. The family consisted of: Henry (41 years old), Julia (35), Julia (19), "Ewd" (8), Alfred (3), and Frea (1). Henry said he was a "Tailor" and "Edw" was the only one in school. Henry said they owned Real Estate worth $400.00 ($14,700 in today's funds) and Julia said she owned Real Estate worth $1,400.00 ($51,000 in today's funds).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1870 US Census shows the Henry Moore family still living in Bristol, Illinois. The family consisted of: Henry (54 years old), Julia (44), Edwin James (17), Alfred Henry (11), Ella B. (9), Catharine (7), Major Menzo (3), and John B. (1). Henry did not report owning any real estate, but he did say he owned personalty of $200.00 ($4600 in today's funds). Julia reported real estate worth $1400.00 ($324,000 in today's funds). Edwin reported that he had a job as a bricklayer. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>In 1878 a tragedy hit the Moore family that would almost be enough for a blog article all by itself. Edwin's eldest sister Julia had married Aaron A. Sheridan (1834-1878). He was a Civil War veteran who was partially disabled and in addition to farming was the lighthouse keeper on South Manitou Island, Michigan. </span><span>Julia was the Assistant Lighthouse Keeper. Julia and Aaron had six sons. The story is that Sheridan and his wife Julia were returning from the mainland on March 15, 1878 in a boat owned by Chris Ankerson, a local resident. They were returning to the island with supplies and the US Mail. Along with Aaron and Julia was their youngest son - ten month old Robert Rutherford Sheridan (1877-1878). About a mile from the island the boat capsized. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ankerson was able to cling to the capsized vessel until help arrived from the island and he reported that Aaron Sheridan could have saved himself but sacrificed his life trying to save his wife and child. Sheridan twice assisted his wife and child to the overturned boat, but due to the high seas and cold water Julia was unable to maintain a grip on the rolling boat. Julia and the baby eventually slipped beneath the waves. In a vain attempt to save them, Aaron followed them to a watery grave. Chris Ankerson alone survived to tell the tragic tale.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Katherine Hutzler was babysitting the Sheridan's five other sons at the time of the accident and told the story of how the boys, who were between the ages of three and twelve, ran up and down the beach weeping while searching for the bodies of their parents and baby brother.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">None of the bodies was ever found, but the family persuaded the US government to provide tombstones for them anyway, because they had died in the line of duty. Their tombstones are in the South Manitou Island (MI) Cemetery:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="848" data-original-width="550" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIsgzNtCqG2BwiAsWJTlQvDmyY_4QBi93Q58mIdPpO49S_S-pFTCtUhWNY9HfrwS25_NrkQEhrKgJK1zrwu_8HSOUe1OG5n1UgASzJ43p6SJfbYPRtnxewnGCK3p9Zpcn-T1Om7lQfC4fiqzvgrJip-d97h5sIX9vMPMoeeQ0p_TMK2ONCqpp94gHxF5dG/w260-h400/Sheridan,%20Aaron.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="260" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo and below by Find a Grave Volunteer Gwen (Kopp) Glatz</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4h2VBrcXsqa9C5GhvXKS8P6g5k1a_JW9Zpo_bpjSZhvVT71YtEVWto9cz4tjT6ijo0gxsz3T7ug3lMfNAGYWmznqPIJIbqWbdKWd6Bk1_opzVM24nwYJX0wCpEnf04fcwu5AY7HXPF5InRtA5N2NzxraXpPG9MbiRXAFQCevxuPcdPRGh0YUUmdQhQ1pN/s887/Sheridan,%20Julia%20&%20Robert.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="887" data-original-width="550" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4h2VBrcXsqa9C5GhvXKS8P6g5k1a_JW9Zpo_bpjSZhvVT71YtEVWto9cz4tjT6ijo0gxsz3T7ug3lMfNAGYWmznqPIJIbqWbdKWd6Bk1_opzVM24nwYJX0wCpEnf04fcwu5AY7HXPF5InRtA5N2NzxraXpPG9MbiRXAFQCevxuPcdPRGh0YUUmdQhQ1pN/w248-h400/Sheridan,%20Julia%20&%20Robert.jpg" width="248" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here are Aaron and Julia in happier times:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="570" data-original-width="450" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4DsmMtEK1SKmluLxL3Lxk5Cdu2Ggd0qwD_F7qKUa4oTl0SX_5SZxTSGAycT9IeJRZDtAndD1Q4yMf67VWYOfRoDjzI8OC3mMymotIvR--edyKL3RxI97Y1UhTdsNoNAeqOHtYp81bFGE62q3g6qT0e0ez5PlOQeMuQDyq9MTnqsZ7GjayiFliNpbSydh7/s320/Sheridan%20Aaron%20Photo.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="253" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photos by Jack Sheridan</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEien-Ub3jZdCrp9YdJXRUMDlY5ls3a0MPuHgLNxXaA5dDqXEpZU6TT86jyMHpfhCPIthQEYseJEnS0lkOYxzCK3N-1fuNM1-KbxDK96iawUeDUM7M6M8_3TggxXCQSp8M0ykmuIKG0lwcMvNH0Dq3LyBdeIGL4GbuHjJArksLuUhQ9gTfsKe88_GAqCXHxB/s421/Sheridan,%20Julia%20photo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="421" data-original-width="308" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEien-Ub3jZdCrp9YdJXRUMDlY5ls3a0MPuHgLNxXaA5dDqXEpZU6TT86jyMHpfhCPIthQEYseJEnS0lkOYxzCK3N-1fuNM1-KbxDK96iawUeDUM7M6M8_3TggxXCQSp8M0ykmuIKG0lwcMvNH0Dq3LyBdeIGL4GbuHjJArksLuUhQ9gTfsKe88_GAqCXHxB/s320/Sheridan,%20Julia%20photo.jpg" width="234" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The five remaining Sheridan sons were raised by their grandparents Henry and Julia Moore in Kendall County, Illinois.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Chicago Tribune reported on December 19, 1878 that all five of the Sheridan sons had been awarded United States Government Pensions until they had reach adulthood.</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSoul2uXg0S_PZ2zoGdfJQuoqN0kYlOKOdLx1A4qYKegjb_snoHYj1xZiIP-96HWa8tSOtHsB3-tbHRH-hyf-ULoosN-3_RMaL2maZBsBZ0Gg2syMvm-HdwqJYkjWguEZDQBziHWkwrRbjLzu7LWkFDU1wsRrY51Lf6EEAXeytc2FDeWotCoowp5bm2gtP/s905/Pensions.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="291" data-original-width="905" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSoul2uXg0S_PZ2zoGdfJQuoqN0kYlOKOdLx1A4qYKegjb_snoHYj1xZiIP-96HWa8tSOtHsB3-tbHRH-hyf-ULoosN-3_RMaL2maZBsBZ0Gg2syMvm-HdwqJYkjWguEZDQBziHWkwrRbjLzu7LWkFDU1wsRrY51Lf6EEAXeytc2FDeWotCoowp5bm2gtP/w543-h175/Pensions.JPG" width="543" /></a></div><br /><div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1880 US Census finds the Moore family still living in Bristol Village, Kendall County, Illinois. The greatly enlarged family now consisted of Henry (64 years old), Julia (54), Edwin (26), Alfred (21), Nellie (18), Cassim - sic (17), Major (14) and Johnnie (11). In addition there were the Sheridan grandsons: Levi (14), George (12), Edward (9), Alfred (7) and Charles (5). Henry now listed his occupation as "Gardener and Tailor." </span></div><div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Back to our protagonist, Edwin. In happier news, on July 26, 1883 he married Mary Isabell Pollock (1857-1937) in Kendall County. The bride was twenty-six; the groom was twenty-seven.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mary Pollack was born May 22, 1857 in New Brunswick, Canada to James W. Pollack (1826-1909) and Eleana Crooks (1833-1864). James Pollock was an Engineer by trade. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Edwin and Mary were blessed with three children: Harry James Moore (1884-1913), Ralph Raymond Moore (1892-1968) and Elizabeth Eleanore "Bessie" Moore/Mrs. Harry D. Orwig (1897-1937).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Edwin Moore started his married life and his career as a lighthouse keeper as second assistant at Grosse Point in 1883. The Evanston City Directory for 1883 shows him as second assistant and living at the lighthouse. The 1884 Evanston Directory is a little more specific about his residence. It says "ns (north side) Phillips av w Lighthouse."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Moore left Evanston in 1885 to become head keeper of Calumet Pierhead Lighthouse:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XYZGsYXu9wrfBCjUsBeABVMD5E9hp5lRwD1_CDVxVfjC7-QAmb5tWL-xLlmjVfuJtOO6wuGgaihL3kPxvB4_ofyE1c19HpWtd1DxRoME4hFnQXhoag5YG7axOGy-T0yAAlmlnG9R8hWwg5BlpTWNUSaHLZVX6yJEQSliZ-XnQIDaNC8MFx42vu7ics5H/s600/calumetpier_1914_na.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="385" data-original-width="600" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XYZGsYXu9wrfBCjUsBeABVMD5E9hp5lRwD1_CDVxVfjC7-QAmb5tWL-xLlmjVfuJtOO6wuGgaihL3kPxvB4_ofyE1c19HpWtd1DxRoME4hFnQXhoag5YG7axOGy-T0yAAlmlnG9R8hWwg5BlpTWNUSaHLZVX6yJEQSliZ-XnQIDaNC8MFx42vu7ics5H/w400-h256/calumetpier_1914_na.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calumet Pierhead Lighthouse</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>But Moore returned to Evanston </span><span>in 1888 to take charge of Grosse Point Lighthouse under rather mysterious circumstances.</span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV03IL8xiJBQVqZTL6s2M7URVlgwMBBo653kKytlfq67v9wNmS2fMPhPKYoYF4GruiddP9OoC5tIXo9sYOEbh2XXcGuhiKkq23PRvae-9EDfCsBvmhgd0l6suUhU7ioChaJgiFTxyNHj6fi-5Cli1z7UQouywYtU4_-WetgLBKCl52D0MEwLcO-kCoJxCG/s600/grossepoint_na.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="418" data-original-width="600" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV03IL8xiJBQVqZTL6s2M7URVlgwMBBo653kKytlfq67v9wNmS2fMPhPKYoYF4GruiddP9OoC5tIXo9sYOEbh2XXcGuhiKkq23PRvae-9EDfCsBvmhgd0l6suUhU7ioChaJgiFTxyNHj6fi-5Cli1z7UQouywYtU4_-WetgLBKCl52D0MEwLcO-kCoJxCG/w400-h279/grossepoint_na.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Grosse Point Lighthouse in 1874</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On July 26, 1888, Anthony Hagan, the then head keeper of the Grosse Point Lighthouse, wrote the following to Inspector C.E. Clark: “Mr. Palmer, 2nd Asst., quit work at 10:30 a.m. as I was cleaning leaves in the Tower and told me that he did not care for the Light-house. Now that I am left alone and the Light all up side down, I most respectfully request that (an) Assistant will be sent me that will obey my orders. I shall get the Light in order to light tonight if fog don’t get up.” There must have been more to the story as Keeper Hagan was removed from office less than two weeks later and Edwin J. Moore was appointed head keeper in his place. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1889 Evanston Directory lists Moore as living on "es (east side) Chicago av near Phelps." </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">If you are interested in the history of the Grosse Point lighthouse, as well as an explanation as to why a lighthouse came to be needed at that site, there is an excellent article at the Lighthouse Friends website:</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://lighthousefriends.com/light.asp?id=237">https://lighthousefriends.com/light.asp?id=237</a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Chicago Sunday Inter-Ocean newspaper from November 9, 1890 featured a substantial writeup about the Grosse Pointe Lighthouse and its keeper. It was about this time that he started being called "Captain Moore":</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgebwUdmsXfs2fACN2xyCo1zkvFRTeaLn5305ZF4-gkeYcF_vU7_xHW66-dy2XDj-QJ91XTXEqh5iqEMLCET0VjYjjGSZDNmifYCwy8K-RhVB7mBjB4BkJ3oxTCj1Vk9l9PfgkLlHkSpHb1B4x-UKAIEkH_-FKKLk19EMI5d6evPZj3nwihhYFxHv99_HPT/s568/1890-1.JPG" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="484" data-original-width="568" height="546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgebwUdmsXfs2fACN2xyCo1zkvFRTeaLn5305ZF4-gkeYcF_vU7_xHW66-dy2XDj-QJ91XTXEqh5iqEMLCET0VjYjjGSZDNmifYCwy8K-RhVB7mBjB4BkJ3oxTCj1Vk9l9PfgkLlHkSpHb1B4x-UKAIEkH_-FKKLk19EMI5d6evPZj3nwihhYFxHv99_HPT/w640-h546/1890-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiQ51aLEiZYJpFjR2JmueYLi5ykqIscqA9XVi10fU_o2MxK9Q5QwNnkxNhIFgBF1650waBYkioVpWAHIV1nldY2E301BTTrpIpzHnJOQh4hpvkyQFUGBullBFttVCKaZBPgHxwhzPUWf5C7gp3zEMyp4ukQI5bYsmQj8NN0i-RD46StyaK1aUvZdLFQi_m/s681/1890-2.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="434" height="999" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiQ51aLEiZYJpFjR2JmueYLi5ykqIscqA9XVi10fU_o2MxK9Q5QwNnkxNhIFgBF1650waBYkioVpWAHIV1nldY2E301BTTrpIpzHnJOQh4hpvkyQFUGBullBFttVCKaZBPgHxwhzPUWf5C7gp3zEMyp4ukQI5bYsmQj8NN0i-RD46StyaK1aUvZdLFQi_m/w637-h999/1890-2.JPG" width="637" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Q5kIE4bolamtXf1ztmkaDzp3P4VxfGIBdc1XozfAtoztSaghKZ0UUi1USzJKUMh8SJneExValW87SVf1dK35vBTIfX_M5C-ndHdqFjSlx5F6hIfmV9CW15XKT5NxSArpUfIiv_QYlQXQHQ0yWcveGvZGTYyO3iaP4LyAIOF9exG8gvr6FQz_TtuQ8xu7/s441/1890-3.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="66" data-original-width="441" height="96" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Q5kIE4bolamtXf1ztmkaDzp3P4VxfGIBdc1XozfAtoztSaghKZ0UUi1USzJKUMh8SJneExValW87SVf1dK35vBTIfX_M5C-ndHdqFjSlx5F6hIfmV9CW15XKT5NxSArpUfIiv_QYlQXQHQ0yWcveGvZGTYyO3iaP4LyAIOF9exG8gvr6FQz_TtuQ8xu7/w640-h96/1890-3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="595" data-original-width="432" height="884" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF4cQ3Xm_mq1gTUGMG4o2EvNfS60_aSYPqmhFbwLrMzoTDSN1OFQZ6nRVz6PGqLU7wpakUdH1m9OhzmFDIw1me57fNXZIxCIJL3BOMkJvwTT_MRj3TtfJpnuER-tFjIetIjmt7yc3Wrrr87VKE1RHXM-vWy8Egy8yx78UmF_jLROn8eWC0AvL2hsxybO3x/w641-h884/1890-4.JPG" width="641" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF4cQ3Xm_mq1gTUGMG4o2EvNfS60_aSYPqmhFbwLrMzoTDSN1OFQZ6nRVz6PGqLU7wpakUdH1m9OhzmFDIw1me57fNXZIxCIJL3BOMkJvwTT_MRj3TtfJpnuER-tFjIetIjmt7yc3Wrrr87VKE1RHXM-vWy8Egy8yx78UmF_jLROn8eWC0AvL2hsxybO3x/s595/1890-4.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="664" data-original-width="430" height="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihlb71s4BD-AUa--Bk8cjopIUQy-wGiQn-FiRwIfeRytfObOrogT75CaSiwt31n4wK8WlcbnKAIgs-FGLzV_PgrTZynAj8YoOi76p2CivTYkH6jc_-VZD3TQz_K2amlD-PbF_QOb85zZ35AeNCNLI3TCYU9uzhYhp_yeXLsKbeVCy8fxoTxJIvIn369CKG/w647-h1000/1890-5.JPG" width="647" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Edwin Moore's name seldom appeared in the newspapers in this era. If it did appear, it was usually in connection with official lighthouse business as in this from the Chicago Inter-Ocean of June 22, 1891:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQO08j5sAE3C6-JsXEjtBcgbpkYeiEZq54apgWA02XGDb0_VJuM5fj1NRCrixXEO585iIuBtmtUkjDKh-N4Dqyrysz9AVY0SE0RhzyeJXEAhMP7pQglN_uZofqVLo5DOgYH-9Wnb9PMwhv3RFnuVCnxehfCc6nvdP-hq-zy6-qxhEbmJS5_SQNAYHBrDS5/s724/22%20June%201891.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="218" data-original-width="724" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQO08j5sAE3C6-JsXEjtBcgbpkYeiEZq54apgWA02XGDb0_VJuM5fj1NRCrixXEO585iIuBtmtUkjDKh-N4Dqyrysz9AVY0SE0RhzyeJXEAhMP7pQglN_uZofqVLo5DOgYH-9Wnb9PMwhv3RFnuVCnxehfCc6nvdP-hq-zy6-qxhEbmJS5_SQNAYHBrDS5/w678-h203/22%20June%201891.JPG" width="678" /></a></div><br /> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In addition to the lighthouse light, the station was also equipped with giant fog horns which were used as necessary to warn ships about the shoreline. </span></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Capt. Edwin Moore's father, Henry M. Moore died December 29, 1897 in Yorkville, Illinois. He was eighty-eight years old. He was buried in Elmwood Cemetery, Yorkville, Illinois.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZxC5-hUWCPwY0sWkIqE4EDidrrwaO7sXDHnuS3nshphQtvkb4DdLbhLGcEwuqYoqNqJYgjtyo25pNdbNfp9qvgCB0poGmSTigRB711BLv7NumTQchnKJeYzmhCsENV_d0ZnASk5_pTvt5A0K8CHUWOm_H-P4L49HcZRgHSgNKREyYsR444QatZOauE6b/s1306/Moore,%20Henry%20Tombstone.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1306" data-original-width="1004" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZxC5-hUWCPwY0sWkIqE4EDidrrwaO7sXDHnuS3nshphQtvkb4DdLbhLGcEwuqYoqNqJYgjtyo25pNdbNfp9qvgCB0poGmSTigRB711BLv7NumTQchnKJeYzmhCsENV_d0ZnASk5_pTvt5A0K8CHUWOm_H-P4L49HcZRgHSgNKREyYsR444QatZOauE6b/s320/Moore,%20Henry%20Tombstone.jpg" width="246" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Find a Grave Volunteer Anne Sears</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1900 US Census shows the Edwin Moore still living at the lighthouse in Evanston. The census, taken June 8, 1900, shows Edwin (46 years old), wife Mary (44), sons Harry (16), Ralph (7) and daughter Bessie (3). Their address is listed as "No Num Sheridan Road." Edwin and Mary told the census taker that they had been married for seventeen years. Mary said she had given birth to three children, and all three were alive in 1900, Edwin listed his occupation as "Light House Keeper," and that he had been employed all twelve of the previous months. he said they lived in a house (not a farm) and that the house was owned by the U.S. (government). Living near them were "1st Asst. Lighthouse Keeper" Isaac N. Blanchard, and "2nd Asst. Lighthouse Keeper" William W. Foster.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div>Capt. Edwin Moore's mother Julia Rhines Moore died in Yorkville on January 28, 1901. She was seventy-six years old. She is buried next to her husband in the Elmwood Cemetery in Yorkville:</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNdRxAbbcaqFC280bkWMMfmKikbRFpaff4GRz05zpfFExXS9X54mB_Fg2xVc2GLbZeL8ayYUK4VB4snJ4MeEO4d30waXtYB0-BDg2Xa7pKGEny9FAQ4ltAlZXief0HHBsxixn-jzn6uitBiRs913HkiYzOrYN4JHmo4rJk-OQIupq6La-vS5ZvGx4nr_8b/s1306/Moore%20Parents%20Tombstone.jpg" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1306" data-original-width="1004" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNdRxAbbcaqFC280bkWMMfmKikbRFpaff4GRz05zpfFExXS9X54mB_Fg2xVc2GLbZeL8ayYUK4VB4snJ4MeEO4d30waXtYB0-BDg2Xa7pKGEny9FAQ4ltAlZXief0HHBsxixn-jzn6uitBiRs913HkiYzOrYN4JHmo4rJk-OQIupq6La-vS5ZvGx4nr_8b/w308-h400/Moore%20Parents%20Tombstone.jpg" width="308" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Find a Grave Volunteer Anne Sears</td></tr></tbody></table><div></div><div><br /></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am not a fisherman, but a tremendous discovery of Capt. Edwin Moore was reported in the Chicago Tribune of July 7, 1901: "White Fish Now Found in Lake Near Chicago."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0yHKDedrZCux_avTO0mkEM5LJ1CoClG0kNynDb1WORx9-2T4LmKtQpUMynDFTB0iUCVqX_Q_pap67SmUHG1qGzbm-NyOzWDfPVCHYHxj0Dy5LkF9wYOs5XKeQg7w1BQPOEe9peSAUuu4XIQufiBrQbgHTzps5Gogzp8AelK5lu3IwOFXgjztcGTH6EJ70/s2681/Chicago_Tribune_1901_07_07_page_33.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2200" data-original-width="2681" height="541" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0yHKDedrZCux_avTO0mkEM5LJ1CoClG0kNynDb1WORx9-2T4LmKtQpUMynDFTB0iUCVqX_Q_pap67SmUHG1qGzbm-NyOzWDfPVCHYHxj0Dy5LkF9wYOs5XKeQg7w1BQPOEe9peSAUuu4XIQufiBrQbgHTzps5Gogzp8AelK5lu3IwOFXgjztcGTH6EJ70/w658-h541/Chicago_Tribune_1901_07_07_page_33.jpg" width="658" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I have no idea as to whether whitefish are still in Lake Michigan today, but that does not matter to me because I am a happy life-long carnitarian, as was my mother.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Unless you personally know someone who is a lighthouse keeper, it is unlikely that you know how much they are paid. On July 1, 1903, the US Department of Commerce and Labor printed a list of all government lighthouse keepers and how much they were paid. They indicated that Edwin Moore was paid an annual salary of $675.00 ($23,328 in today's money). Isaac N. Blanchard, the First Assistant Lighthouse Keeper made $500.00 ($17,280 in today's money), and a new Second Assistant Lighthouse Keeper Rhinhard Pfeil made $425.00 ($14,688 in today's money). Another factor that must be taken into consideration is that the jobs included free housing. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1910 US Census shows the Edwin Moore family still living at the Grosse Point Lighthouse in Evanston. Now the lighthouse keeper's house had an address: 2601 Sheridan Road. The family consisted of Edwin (55 years old), Mary (53), Harry J. (25), Ralph R. (17), and Elizabeth E. (12). Edwin and Mary said they had been married for twenty-eight years and that it was the first marriage for both. Mary again said she had given birth to three children, and all were still alive in 1910. Edwin said his occupation was "Keeper of a Lighthouse." Harry and Ralph said they were both bookkeepers for a Railroad. They could all both read and write, and Elizabeth attended school.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Tragedy struck the Moore family on August 18, 1913 when Harry J. Moore was struck and killed by a trolley car in Evanston. He was twenty-nine years old. Here is the story from the Chicago Examiner of August 19, 1913:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-UXCFV-mVKXFvk2pKu13vhFwtWD3xdGXW9IBAsLElcSMvndRUdLHUR8ZX8squcESQAtTQK2jcwA27tPbvm1qQh0M9MrCkuTXSo2FtvpefXO0i1vbIQnZaXjaC6a2LAvaTjMa9mieTEZM1dIGwMnhBoeH55GEHLqjvY-G2N3bXpL4jfStaeKb52Ck2xJCB/s422/19%20Aug%201913.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="422" data-original-width="286" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-UXCFV-mVKXFvk2pKu13vhFwtWD3xdGXW9IBAsLElcSMvndRUdLHUR8ZX8squcESQAtTQK2jcwA27tPbvm1qQh0M9MrCkuTXSo2FtvpefXO0i1vbIQnZaXjaC6a2LAvaTjMa9mieTEZM1dIGwMnhBoeH55GEHLqjvY-G2N3bXpL4jfStaeKb52Ck2xJCB/w434-h640/19%20Aug%201913.JPG" width="434" /></a></div><br />The Evanston Daily News also from August 19 goes into significantly more detail about the tragedy:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIb972IUADZQPqW8WDIOICYhH62P7xpARLrur4tLHyPCNkyL2R20K0MW67S-A_bEeJBuy2s_m9j8d-ICHIiOUMdBvNW5BdIZ0rM61nB3onjGI-qcz9tcWP3HE8yN8VXbY8LzXpelxPi76RPnb0C85hGx5F2LxVpQzNmJOFeuQGd1QRmWvd3d0t9JAgVlMa/s1334/Moore-1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="274" height="1823" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIb972IUADZQPqW8WDIOICYhH62P7xpARLrur4tLHyPCNkyL2R20K0MW67S-A_bEeJBuy2s_m9j8d-ICHIiOUMdBvNW5BdIZ0rM61nB3onjGI-qcz9tcWP3HE8yN8VXbY8LzXpelxPi76RPnb0C85hGx5F2LxVpQzNmJOFeuQGd1QRmWvd3d0t9JAgVlMa/w375-h1823/Moore-1.JPG" width="375" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="672" data-original-width="272" height="929" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHNAne6Lyt0YvlVEY9d38wGB2C0xB28GLBmLdXhfzX68kmDPardyh4YZATMjS5_gOLm9wAm_YA5BAP2e3wdKoX8_O9aWGSajAXrQqcHMtp6ncHZm3Sfxy7nO9u5a0xk7VGQGpE-8bqBkI6a5CD3RW21KYDJsmmZ53jiFYF7JBkmz1U4ETqDxMK1SPecWrv/w375-h929/Moore-2.JPG" width="375" /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Harry James Moore was buried in the Elmwood Cemetery in Yorkville, the same cemetery as his paternal grandparents:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0mINKDtLvIAaRbsfCzdSL-3Sj6fB2BQpUplkpWaq75rCpZJGYVsOoLbniUxLrao1mnWYbtOH-gNU9TahfO_8zyls3T6niR1JxXt0B46n9pKIQkglP37HHE8GLOTjurWmEjHHe35o0QdJblUSWucHRIL0zrx2SDi5JYnDgrhNruUGy0TOu-ySPe3DGEWQv/s1300/Moore,%20Harry%20J.%20Tombstone.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="635" data-original-width="1300" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0mINKDtLvIAaRbsfCzdSL-3Sj6fB2BQpUplkpWaq75rCpZJGYVsOoLbniUxLrao1mnWYbtOH-gNU9TahfO_8zyls3T6niR1JxXt0B46n9pKIQkglP37HHE8GLOTjurWmEjHHe35o0QdJblUSWucHRIL0zrx2SDi5JYnDgrhNruUGy0TOu-ySPe3DGEWQv/w400-h195/Moore,%20Harry%20J.%20Tombstone.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photo by Find a Grave Volunteer Anne Sears</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1920 US Census shows the Edwin Moore family still living at the lighthouse, 2601 Sheridan Road in Evanston. The family now consisted of: Edwin J. (65 years old), Mary (60), daughter Elizabeth (22), and son-in-law Harry D. Orwig (28). They indicated that they rented their home, and that all of them could read, write and speak English. Mary said she had immigrated from Canada in 1880 and became a naturalized citizen in 1884. Edwin listed his occupation as "Superintendent of a Lighthouse," and Harry Orwig was a "Manager in Dry Goods."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Chicago Tribune of October 3, 1921 commemorated Capt. Moore's sixth-eighth birthday with an article about him:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjanXcBaw9UzgPaMfp7jCbHlSYWV8cC7kl-R11Nuiyg3qHQyr1XGla8iIaa_N-B-v0511PZvhtbDeNXRWTjdPsE91LHGQcQ4yc8IwRtJXwgie7eAQmoXcfpAGNtZLMnhrpdtYb0M6qep0JEwMQsAMLGiYaJgiy2b3bHeoEZtRvd3KRSyQ4SUnbiddekGPMH/s509/Oct%201921.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="509" data-original-width="271" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjanXcBaw9UzgPaMfp7jCbHlSYWV8cC7kl-R11Nuiyg3qHQyr1XGla8iIaa_N-B-v0511PZvhtbDeNXRWTjdPsE91LHGQcQ4yc8IwRtJXwgie7eAQmoXcfpAGNtZLMnhrpdtYb0M6qep0JEwMQsAMLGiYaJgiy2b3bHeoEZtRvd3KRSyQ4SUnbiddekGPMH/w340-h640/Oct%201921.JPG" width="340" /></a></div><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Captain Edwin J. Moore died March 1, 1924 in his home at the Evanston lighthouse. His death made front-page news in the Chicago Tribune of March 3:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="339" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gYqXJp44rT_0e8HAVD60DHL6s57z40nvCB5Ss6es9-sv_OVxWGwYb3p0cCxwMWau__55Izc9ewPoLbLcrf2cTQIKUQ9lmkJ89PitF0nqwzvycv3jCucOaL7CvQLSZjptKXosPU7iO9tlwvekeND9O7kx6uXBZSKeS6OoGYxZav1f8bLxp9Tf8_w-S_Ep/w440-h640/03%20Mar%201924.JPG" width="440" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There are two mistakes in the obituary: 1) His daughter Bessie was not listed as a survivor - she lived until 1937. 2) He did not have a son Douglas - Bessie's husband was Harry Douglas Orwig.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here is his Death Notice from the Chicago Tribune, also from March 3, 1924:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjERKBYs3H-VucCzSn6PCmBpDlnbDXZrT4mF7bJnuluI8YZbG7q860TMSaliphSl7EGrlIW3IkQHOBIWEPmRfghc4Jsg_EAkQhdruskOdhR5yqHyYk7j7jvTab5Vf49kMQUUWjdyQ0RCnC0aij14ZjdyErvHNQrBEw_SBwJxSXFNaT15dFOD9OPCJzNFRZn/s500/Death%20Notice.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="134" data-original-width="500" height="108" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjERKBYs3H-VucCzSn6PCmBpDlnbDXZrT4mF7bJnuluI8YZbG7q860TMSaliphSl7EGrlIW3IkQHOBIWEPmRfghc4Jsg_EAkQhdruskOdhR5yqHyYk7j7jvTab5Vf49kMQUUWjdyQ0RCnC0aij14ZjdyErvHNQrBEw_SBwJxSXFNaT15dFOD9OPCJzNFRZn/w400-h108/Death%20Notice.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /> </span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As stated in the Death Notice, Capt. Moore was buried in Yorkville - in the Elmwood Cemetery near his parents and Harry:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlPY1HZbO7UC7Fnw0f4q5FCnpIO3q19gy6sK51HBNy2Az-e349GM9jFS73pXkANpmij97WkzbxGYFxWV68q77I5AB8RfpW98s5X5aX58lWTG_Z-rGmkI8cryr3x7SyqxkPZmyI1rIRA-aVl2Jlcz74WZv-tr7cwJu4hUP-RZ1UF2sSiINS4LyynEHVd-AM/s1095/Moore,%20Edwin%20Tombstone.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="1095" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlPY1HZbO7UC7Fnw0f4q5FCnpIO3q19gy6sK51HBNy2Az-e349GM9jFS73pXkANpmij97WkzbxGYFxWV68q77I5AB8RfpW98s5X5aX58lWTG_Z-rGmkI8cryr3x7SyqxkPZmyI1rIRA-aVl2Jlcz74WZv-tr7cwJu4hUP-RZ1UF2sSiINS4LyynEHVd-AM/w400-h183/Moore,%20Edwin%20Tombstone.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photo by Find a Grave Volunteer Anne Sears</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Now you know the story of one of Evanston's most famous residents, Captain Edwin J. Moore, who took care of the Grosse Point lighthouse for forty-one years so ships could pass safely along the Evanston shore in the treacherous waters of Lake Michigan. May he rest in peace.</div></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7s_Wnmblqlv7_aRB3cA9znitxKkvWIZv3dZf3d3gtWKCiqIZCZ5UfTDJh18fHI--1bN47xAenZhgIYELOOz0dFSxFCkgZHXwNtEEbPU-Noxutzmsw_VilN3ReWNP00McoeINeL_Bu3NPH0mEwYbIX0oyQ4I8xjCupoMmLEfwDVfcmXjibTIprp3Az3UV2/s463/Moore%20with%20dog.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="463" data-original-width="371" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7s_Wnmblqlv7_aRB3cA9znitxKkvWIZv3dZf3d3gtWKCiqIZCZ5UfTDJh18fHI--1bN47xAenZhgIYELOOz0dFSxFCkgZHXwNtEEbPU-Noxutzmsw_VilN3ReWNP00McoeINeL_Bu3NPH0mEwYbIX0oyQ4I8xjCupoMmLEfwDVfcmXjibTIprp3Az3UV2/w320-h400/Moore%20with%20dog.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Capt. Edwin Moore and friend</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></div></span></div></div></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-85066350532421764222023-07-01T05:31:00.000-07:002023-07-01T05:31:02.472-07:00JUST PLAIN PHIL - Philbert Milton Russell - My 300th Blog Entry<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Internet age has made genealogy research much easier than it was years ago. In those days, researchers were forced to visit university libraries or other record depositories and search through microfilm rolls, frame by frame, looking for useful information. The Internet and the LDS Church (the Mormons) have digitized millions of records and one can easily sit at their computer virtually anywhere and search through foreign and domestic records, both common and obscure. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The ease of research and the success of such shows as "Finding Your Roots" has caused many people to take up genealogy who never had before. The secret hope of many of these "new" researchers is that they will find someone famous or infamous in their family tree, giving them bragging rights at the next cocktail party. One of my friends admitted that she took up genealogy hoping to be able to join the Daughters of the American Revolution to no avail. She found enough ancestors to join the Mayflower Descendants, the </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Daughters of the Confederacy, even the Huguenot Society - everything but the DAR. Interestingly I found that I was eligible to join the Sons of the American Revolution through my ancestor Francis Malone.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The fact is, and I have certainly found it in my own family research, most of our ancestors were just regular people - neither famous nor infamous. They were born, they lived and they died, all while going about their business. It used to be said in the old days that a "lady" only had her name in the newspaper three times - when she was born, when she married, and when she died. Many of our ancestors never had their names in the newspapers at all. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In the twelve years I have been writing for this blog, I have been able to "dig up" stories on some very interesting people. This month I am writing my 300th article for this blog. I hope you enjoy it.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In the old days there used to be a radio program called "Just Plain Bill." </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">It was "a story of people just like people we all know."</span><span style="text-align: left;"> So this month I am going to tell the story of Evanstonian Philbert Milton Russell (1881-1967), a man noteworthy by not being noteworthy. In fact, I can even call him "Just Plain Phil."</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJdoLKbqP8ZI4XdxUFjfpvN8yJ83FNWMqAu5BhwOY2D-0-hclIgtM-4jFBoQuGqa1Wl04M0gYNVsHQl8aBA2zYw_G9NDWUXPu7GQh7jVD-uv6UFVDDjZ2OCrHmzv_nBIeKFnJ5y2q_NkwTD6JA9ANdtPANhDSmOsTWUnshz-GG8lEFNh-7nETRzpHnQQ/s194/Phil%20Russell%20Photo.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="181" data-original-width="194" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJdoLKbqP8ZI4XdxUFjfpvN8yJ83FNWMqAu5BhwOY2D-0-hclIgtM-4jFBoQuGqa1Wl04M0gYNVsHQl8aBA2zYw_G9NDWUXPu7GQh7jVD-uv6UFVDDjZ2OCrHmzv_nBIeKFnJ5y2q_NkwTD6JA9ANdtPANhDSmOsTWUnshz-GG8lEFNh-7nETRzpHnQQ/w320-h298/Phil%20Russell%20Photo.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Philbert Milton Russell</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I have mentioned in the past that I search ebay on a regular basis for items of interest from my birthplace, Evanston, Illinois. Recently I ran across this photo:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-PSFmLsiSmC_U4Iv73P4PLlhUfDl-AvxpKwCc-OwOpBIaByGCwrUojAH_jn5-QP4OyllY1DuggEzKxiudnnQFtXGg-GGDqzLG4b1Wpf-QmAgjPsbUW5VVukqjZURMkpJcqtMstOGisknZoUsg0X2NrG_he4iZnzaQpTlIo_k1JNT3RKLMP5xy4mzqIw/s1600/Russell,%20Philbert%20Photo.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="863" data-original-width="1600" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-PSFmLsiSmC_U4Iv73P4PLlhUfDl-AvxpKwCc-OwOpBIaByGCwrUojAH_jn5-QP4OyllY1DuggEzKxiudnnQFtXGg-GGDqzLG4b1Wpf-QmAgjPsbUW5VVukqjZURMkpJcqtMstOGisknZoUsg0X2NrG_he4iZnzaQpTlIo_k1JNT3RKLMP5xy4mzqIw/w640-h346/Russell,%20Philbert%20Photo.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was taken at the 40th Anniversary Dinner for Philbert M. Russell, on November 29, 1941 at the Georgian Hotel in Evanston. I did a little digging and found that Philbert Russell had been an employee of the Prudential Insurance Company. This banquet must have been to celebrate his 40th anniversary with the Prudential.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You can see one of the men in the foreground of the photo seems to be sitting so as to be raised above the people sitting around him. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvHZUBLzVGEo_8lgmSxexHjCBMv5nlRGc48Gb2aYfLABpDGqkmDNhkAxjVMXT8157EC76fI4WYpyP84OPwKUjHE-X8ixquBtO5m49aTFkZAPnria5uDrNmNnmUm1BRhyIX-mbH0CzsSkM19XDU1yH3HdoWik6DUpBvbtUtW-SV0NTDsMmkH9kVdtRRTQ/s323/Russell,%20Philbert-3a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="323" data-original-width="218" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvHZUBLzVGEo_8lgmSxexHjCBMv5nlRGc48Gb2aYfLABpDGqkmDNhkAxjVMXT8157EC76fI4WYpyP84OPwKUjHE-X8ixquBtO5m49aTFkZAPnria5uDrNmNnmUm1BRhyIX-mbH0CzsSkM19XDU1yH3HdoWik6DUpBvbtUtW-SV0NTDsMmkH9kVdtRRTQ/s320/Russell,%20Philbert-3a.jpg" width="216" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I assumed that this was Philbert Russell. But that could not be - there is no way that this man is old enough to have worked anywhere for forty years. But why is he raised above the other people at his table, and where is Philbert Russell?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I found a family tree on ancestry.com that featured a photo of Philbert Russell sitting at his desk in his office for the Prudential. Here it is:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tUUFVQLifNOxX8jlF9Om7Sh2g4gtnvi8fNrIzj3bk9hsrwFjJbjfHm-vbWiLjmXZ89_nUWQkd5x0KjcngDhCbmUmwOmXaWvbHHCL3vmkhlfaePwkZ0RkKylo4V6mrJEYv24bqhesS3_5EgDT4RAs_rDUlGNhZp_tiDKz5qDnTQEhQqdi0npJ2-AWAQ/s1054/Russell%20Philbert%20Melton%20Photo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1054" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tUUFVQLifNOxX8jlF9Om7Sh2g4gtnvi8fNrIzj3bk9hsrwFjJbjfHm-vbWiLjmXZ89_nUWQkd5x0KjcngDhCbmUmwOmXaWvbHHCL3vmkhlfaePwkZ0RkKylo4V6mrJEYv24bqhesS3_5EgDT4RAs_rDUlGNhZp_tiDKz5qDnTQEhQqdi0npJ2-AWAQ/w400-h285/Russell%20Philbert%20Melton%20Photo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There is no way that this man:</span> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuhdLJfW3uN_Da16_Q_q5CJBHypD0LcxngORcPAPf_I9EzxfjWQ61_SrQ1a782rKbs3pZXwmvowifilpTBIYaR4J_Dzc4VC9GHeNiHZZ6YzHigCz5GeGHCunAxMf6kkXOvk-xJgJj11NVhaOUmIemnMZhEEyEn_yXzleV9KGot_fJ4tNfgMP7xl-5QSQ/s323/Russell,%20Philbert-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="323" data-original-width="250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuhdLJfW3uN_Da16_Q_q5CJBHypD0LcxngORcPAPf_I9EzxfjWQ61_SrQ1a782rKbs3pZXwmvowifilpTBIYaR4J_Dzc4VC9GHeNiHZZ6YzHigCz5GeGHCunAxMf6kkXOvk-xJgJj11NVhaOUmIemnMZhEEyEn_yXzleV9KGot_fJ4tNfgMP7xl-5QSQ/s320/Russell,%20Philbert-2.jpg" width="248" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">is this man:</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9FBa8JiI4D8L9JV0hzgcgX2esvs7ToQXGtZm54n6xHXQHwNgyDQPprwbuU7jnVPO0czRbihp9ec_uQS0b-DiiwWcmZZRpxbVjI6VB0eGEOChhfViC3pAg5Ag0W-3RCRTwgqvbylQZW19R5J_66v9ZiMN8NSYWxQj7IGE8ijwL1JgjSdzjsRJZpDcM3w/s194/Phil%20Russell%20Photo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="181" data-original-width="194" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9FBa8JiI4D8L9JV0hzgcgX2esvs7ToQXGtZm54n6xHXQHwNgyDQPprwbuU7jnVPO0czRbihp9ec_uQS0b-DiiwWcmZZRpxbVjI6VB0eGEOChhfViC3pAg5Ag0W-3RCRTwgqvbylQZW19R5J_66v9ZiMN8NSYWxQj7IGE8ijwL1JgjSdzjsRJZpDcM3w/w277-h258/Phil%20Russell%20Photo.jpg" width="277" /></a></div><br /></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Let's put the matter of the photo aside for a moment and see what we can dig up about Philbert Russell:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Philbert Milton Russell (some sources say his middle name was "Monroe," some say "Melton") was born January 2, 1881 in Owen County, Indiana to Francis Marion "Frank" Russell (1850-1923) and Agnes Shepper (1854-1936). Francis and Agnes had twelve children, eight of whom lived to adulthood. The are: Oren L. (1876-1969), William F. (1878-1964), Philbert M. (1881-1967), Emery (1882-1966), Otis (1885-1958), Bertha Gertrude (1888-1942), Verna/Mrs. Phillip Frew (1890-1978), and Clara E./Mrs. Fred Graham (1892-1991). Frank Russell was a coal miner by trade.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Philbert makes his first "official" appearance in the 1900 US Census. He was living with his parents in Marion Township, Owen County, Indiana. The family consisted of: Frank Russell (49 years old), Agnes (46), "Filbert" (20), Emery (18), Otis (14), Bertha (12), Verna (10), and Clara (7). Frank and Agnes said they had been married for 26 years, and Agnes said she had given birth to twelve children, eight of whom were still alive in 1900. Frank was not employed in 1900. I don't know if he was laid off or ill. He ultimately died of pulmonary tuberculosis, so it could have been either. Filbert was a "Clerk in a Dry Goods Store," Emery was a "Farm Laborer," and the rest of the children were in school. Everyone in the family except Clara the youngest, could read and write, and everyone in the family could speak English. They told the census taker that they lived on a farm, and that the farm was rented.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Since the photo of the banquet that took place November 29, 1941 honored Phil Russell's 40th anniversary with The Prudential, we can assume he started his employment with them late in 1901 when he was twenty years old. Here is a photo of Russell from about that time:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_nQRPaeLZ01Zvhg9rMtJLt85D77FP13xB3VAQdiIZ5rLEjHI7QSDfZ8PFaRso3clOl_VQdfalo-NXqy4Rt-cU3yGmpQROB1h_F7EuWIEIBM4DIX6E9ZWQXd8Fompk-Amt72PiHiqV90qlLGME3_2YVdsw2Jf9o1ME0vIVdZVidU-d9qTFMtFQvmIFmA/s380/Russel%20Bert%20Photo.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="380" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_nQRPaeLZ01Zvhg9rMtJLt85D77FP13xB3VAQdiIZ5rLEjHI7QSDfZ8PFaRso3clOl_VQdfalo-NXqy4Rt-cU3yGmpQROB1h_F7EuWIEIBM4DIX6E9ZWQXd8Fompk-Amt72PiHiqV90qlLGME3_2YVdsw2Jf9o1ME0vIVdZVidU-d9qTFMtFQvmIFmA/s320/Russel%20Bert%20Photo.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Philbert Russell</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">By the 1910 US Census, Philbert Russell was living in St. Louis, Missouri. He was living at the Benton Hotel, at 819 Pine. He said he was twenty-nine years old and that he was an "Inspector" for an "Insurance Company." The Prudential Insurance Company's office in St. Louis in those days was in the Chemical Building, at 8th and Olive in St. Louis:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvu3DJI6lP_WrjSmZFmQyCId24XwbScQPT0e98bWzYVrh_woij2Ak8Thfm3iacNqO8fB1g5A2mnZ1uR66E1_SExCtx-6rzZPHP0qet0micnbiNa1q0XdYZVKTwx1HsCW73vDOyiQaM_ea24xFLGnbEFE4tW9J0SIqbYVUojpOyJA_dQXbNz5mf_2oAtA/s815/Chemical%20Building%20St%20louis.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="815" data-original-width="530" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvu3DJI6lP_WrjSmZFmQyCId24XwbScQPT0e98bWzYVrh_woij2Ak8Thfm3iacNqO8fB1g5A2mnZ1uR66E1_SExCtx-6rzZPHP0qet0micnbiNa1q0XdYZVKTwx1HsCW73vDOyiQaM_ea24xFLGnbEFE4tW9J0SIqbYVUojpOyJA_dQXbNz5mf_2oAtA/w416-h640/Chemical%20Building%20St%20louis.jpg" width="416" /></a></div><br /> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A happy event took place for Phil Russell on November 1, 1911 when he married Claire Mae Huston in Evansville, Indiana. Here is the entry from the Wesley United Methodist Church Records:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsSJf4fwhb-GO60cOrb6ozVr0yzxcAU9M0wjCwB3OVUZ53SHc-2z-nJHBweKlfLp0UvYL95xIy136-qwyUU1tSTEFRoBxm-amRcm9S6iV7l2UgD7rERfskZLeRK8BJGIsGuGpbCASLvazf7KN7cbd1l6-DqhWhK5UZ_zoVTHg5vbtMu5G77pgbJJp25w/s1161/Russell%20Marriage.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="80" data-original-width="1161" height="58" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsSJf4fwhb-GO60cOrb6ozVr0yzxcAU9M0wjCwB3OVUZ53SHc-2z-nJHBweKlfLp0UvYL95xIy136-qwyUU1tSTEFRoBxm-amRcm9S6iV7l2UgD7rERfskZLeRK8BJGIsGuGpbCASLvazf7KN7cbd1l6-DqhWhK5UZ_zoVTHg5vbtMu5G77pgbJJp25w/w844-h58/Russell%20Marriage.JPG" width="844" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">The record shows they were married at the home of Dr. Frank E. Follett in Oetterbein, Indiana. The minister who performed the ceremony was Rev. William T. Russell. Here is an announcement of the wedding from the Bedford (IN) Daily Mail of November 2, 1911:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOLaMm3DkslrHdwP2uuNSqzaEHyAirgaBI1SQEN8PAlDgLh9DF_ge1O4kcr_nYN_85WgDO29nYGTLijlZBfoF4f3n1-abDA9a2q22eLltKmIoIJsXRklqPDj_H3roZ--T8Db25lc826SwLP9-2V7birjH8j3nRhBsn71I1R9juBVLf7-wzTvPwn8UOw/s429/Wedding%2011.02.1911.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="429" data-original-width="242" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOLaMm3DkslrHdwP2uuNSqzaEHyAirgaBI1SQEN8PAlDgLh9DF_ge1O4kcr_nYN_85WgDO29nYGTLijlZBfoF4f3n1-abDA9a2q22eLltKmIoIJsXRklqPDj_H3roZ--T8Db25lc826SwLP9-2V7birjH8j3nRhBsn71I1R9juBVLf7-wzTvPwn8UOw/w362-h640/Wedding%2011.02.1911.JPG" width="362" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I was not able to determine if Rev. William T. Russell was related to the groom, Philbert Russell. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Claire May Huston (1885-1963) was born May 2, 1885 in Atkinson, Nebraska to James Melville Huston (1849-1920) and Mary Ann Handy (1850-1925). James and Mary Ann had six children: Nellie K./Mrs. Frank Follett (1872-1930), Emma Loretta/Mr. Harry Wakeland (1874-1958), Jennie/Mrs. Charles W. Smith (1878-1954), James Winfred (1882-1931), Claire Mae/Mrs. Philbert Russell (1885-1963), and Charles A. (1889-1931). James Huston worked for an Express Delivery Service. During the course of his life he was also a Day Laborer, and a Constable. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Speaking of the Daughters of the American Revolution, Claire Huston Russell was a member, as a direct descendent of Patriot Sgt. William Thompson Murdock.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We can see from this article about the wedding that Phil Russell is proceeding to rise through the ranks of the Prudential Insurance Company, now as Home Inspector. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On August 3, 1917 Phil and Claire Russell became the proud parents of Shirley-Nelle Russell (1917-2008) who was born in Chicago. She was to be their only child. She, too would qualify for the DAR through her mother.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Phil Russell registered for the Draft on September 12, 1918 when he was thirty-seven years old. He was living at 945 W. Wilson in Chicago. A mid-rise building is currently being constructed on that site. He listed his Occupation as Inspector for The Prudential Insurance Company. He was listed as being "Tall," with a "Medium" build, "Blue" Eyes and "Light Brown" Hair. He had no physical disabilities that would have prevented him from serving in the military.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1920 US Census shows the Russell family still living at 945 W. Wilson in Chicago. The family consisted of Philbert (38 years old), Clara (34) and Shirley (25/12 months old). Phil said he was an "Inspector" for an "Insurance Company."</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Philbert Russell's name did not appear in any newspapers during the period 1920-1930 except perhaps in connection with the death of his father. Francis Marion Russell died December 8, 1923 in Terre Haute, Indiana from "Pulmonary Tuberculosis." He was seventy-three years old. He is buried in the Highland Lawn Cemetery in Terre Haute:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ohJ8BBP-vRdgpNjbrNlV8Jn9L-RDAVw85M3uqqB0OZUUzumolee-yjR1CVGSXSWX_O0NxPa6OfID42O429f_gCUABRhK9XH6WYmvZ5pOQEoyhxD4-VgGE9FjPrZSGHx2yRQeR7Ah2xOmb51Lx6mnGYNclaHRcNWP_g0DGk2Gsa7ixNgKaPQrSmN0nA/s663/Russell,%20Francis%20tombstone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="663" data-original-width="495" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ohJ8BBP-vRdgpNjbrNlV8Jn9L-RDAVw85M3uqqB0OZUUzumolee-yjR1CVGSXSWX_O0NxPa6OfID42O429f_gCUABRhK9XH6WYmvZ5pOQEoyhxD4-VgGE9FjPrZSGHx2yRQeR7Ah2xOmb51Lx6mnGYNclaHRcNWP_g0DGk2Gsa7ixNgKaPQrSmN0nA/w299-h400/Russell,%20Francis%20tombstone.jpg" width="299" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1930 US Census shows the Philbert Russell family now living at 4428 N. Malden Street in Chicago:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmK2-tjAAn2jqlnDSL58kG-2tx4DEX_AjZA7Y-P9RuLG2cOau95qaBNUbUcrUDvAXX6667EBjEbpODz_FOwC6E4GVl3fHp1KJf1KEcrSCDHwWzqwn-FUFQJjrJ7NKqLMeQURwSc27AmIthboe8Rlwp3k0DPze55zcknTooc2PP4vcYrlyMPEcpKuEANA/s503/4428%20Malden%20chicago.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="448" data-original-width="503" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmK2-tjAAn2jqlnDSL58kG-2tx4DEX_AjZA7Y-P9RuLG2cOau95qaBNUbUcrUDvAXX6667EBjEbpODz_FOwC6E4GVl3fHp1KJf1KEcrSCDHwWzqwn-FUFQJjrJ7NKqLMeQURwSc27AmIthboe8Rlwp3k0DPze55zcknTooc2PP4vcYrlyMPEcpKuEANA/w400-h356/4428%20Malden%20chicago.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4428 N. Malden Street, Chicago, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When I first searched for the 1930 Census Record I could not find it because the census taker had incorrectly labelled the family. Phil was listed as "Philbert, M. Russell," when he should have been listed as "Russell, Philbert M." Claire is listed as "Claire Philbert" and their daughter as "Shirley-Nelle Philbert." Luckily I was able to dig deeper and find them. The family consisted of Philbert M. Russell (47 years old), Claire M. (4</span><span style="font-size: medium;">3)</span><span style="font-size: large;">, </span><span style="font-size: medium;">and Shirley-Nelle (12). They indicated they rented their apartment for $100.00 per month, they did own a radio, that Shirley-Nelle was in school, and that they could all read and write. Phil told the census taker that he was "Superintendent" for an "Insurance" company, and that he was not a Veteran.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Philbert Russell's name did not appear in the newspapers during the 1930s, except when his mother Agnes Shepper Russell died on September 7, 1936 from "Chronic Myocarditis." She was eighty-two years old.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She was buried next to her husband in the Highland Lawn Cemetery in Terre Haute:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwH9xWbJq5NxqSUG5kH2uJKL2N6ZO0s7bggbMGT5wnU0k_jke8Bx2Atag-M4gjSd14suYzwds4lKrsxo0hMUvGvOuQeY7V9ZrvyiOqsFd7HOv7yExyxlvDK-EGoVF9itTkTjK0VzHD8BkvutkGUCHL2vN8-r0UQtzQedpt44ELUEz2pdUoE-HtZ3Kew/s657/Russell%20tombstone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="478" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwH9xWbJq5NxqSUG5kH2uJKL2N6ZO0s7bggbMGT5wnU0k_jke8Bx2Atag-M4gjSd14suYzwds4lKrsxo0hMUvGvOuQeY7V9ZrvyiOqsFd7HOv7yExyxlvDK-EGoVF9itTkTjK0VzHD8BkvutkGUCHL2vN8-r0UQtzQedpt44ELUEz2pdUoE-HtZ3Kew/w291-h400/Russell%20tombstone.jpg" width="291" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Phil and Claire's daughter Shirley-Nelle Russell attended Northwestern University. She graduated in 1939 with a degree in Language Arts. Here is a photo of her when she was a Junior at NU in 1938:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTCAIQ-dSduKMY1OAa9lkh0TB2HEFHaeqmTkhQDdPdZSnAkJRFBRx3PcGBICNl0ZiW-x67UzPuPCbH8B9jyBv7E2O05jB-mkt2ScK_N7MXsilfeDWQA31_Yz89qCQOqd3vrEzEvAoiCNPbUpTBujWkrzTn_iN_bqmIj8_dl44_Klp5MiZy9j1Ci2FAJg/s432/Shirley%20-%201938.JPG" style="clear: left; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="191" data-original-width="432" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTCAIQ-dSduKMY1OAa9lkh0TB2HEFHaeqmTkhQDdPdZSnAkJRFBRx3PcGBICNl0ZiW-x67UzPuPCbH8B9jyBv7E2O05jB-mkt2ScK_N7MXsilfeDWQA31_Yz89qCQOqd3vrEzEvAoiCNPbUpTBujWkrzTn_iN_bqmIj8_dl44_Klp5MiZy9j1Ci2FAJg/w640-h282/Shirley%20-%201938.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Shirley-Nelle was elected president of her sorority, Chi Omega in 1939.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After graduation with war imminent, Shirley-Nelle started driving for the Red Cross Motor Corps to "do her part."</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Russell family moved out of Chicago into beautiful Evanston, Illinois in 1939. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As reported in the 1940 US Census, the Philbert Russell Family was living at 1423 Judson in Evanston:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSPx4iIUBmONznx3l9bRUPJ3WvIGg6SN0qFPVtXl1NcnFB0tywU6A1twtlQBWstz-5xm3_7U6lWtdVOqkS56qXlJlbJyy-xBQWiSY92Ktd6y3wMmwpPLHxNbYj494BUbf9RW00iMO8Q95oext_LOp9CHChCyRss9xdBT-dErNwwzmiHVYi8ATjxLGbjA/s503/1423%20Judson%20Evanston.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="503" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSPx4iIUBmONznx3l9bRUPJ3WvIGg6SN0qFPVtXl1NcnFB0tywU6A1twtlQBWstz-5xm3_7U6lWtdVOqkS56qXlJlbJyy-xBQWiSY92Ktd6y3wMmwpPLHxNbYj494BUbf9RW00iMO8Q95oext_LOp9CHChCyRss9xdBT-dErNwwzmiHVYi8ATjxLGbjA/w400-h355/1423%20Judson%20Evanston.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1423 Judson, Evanston, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The family consisted of: Philbert (59 years old), Claire (54), Shirley-Nelle (22) and a "Friend" Eva Ray (56). They rented the house for $100.00 per month. The 1940 US Census had a question about the "Highest Grade of School Completed." Phil said he had gone as far as the second year of high school, Claire had two years of college, and Shirley-Nelle had four years of college. Friend Eva had four years of high school. Phil listed his occupation as "Superintendent of Sales" for a "Life Insurance Company." He said he had earned $5,000+ in the previous twelve months ($108,000 in today's funds). Friend Eva was a "Private Duty Nurse" who reported an income of $140.00 in 1939. The 1940 Census also asked where you were living on April 1, 1935. If you were living at the same place you currently lived, you told the Census Taker "Same Place." Phil and his family, plus friend Eva, all said they were living in Chicago in 1935, not Evanston where they were currently living. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This brings us to the 40th Anniversary Dinner which took place on Saturday, November 29, 1941 at the Georgian Hotel in Evanston. Here is the photo again that was taken that night:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPN6FtlwkoDai1Ei04LVHDrY45I_PjK6dW2fhjFflOD4NgIWQyxCC1Z1Ginq9e5W9lIJABhvxO8D6JkAlyOU6ctQPS5B8GdxuTmkJzMp5nLj1tqk6_nNsJjXbl5H0NbowDypNAECNRJsgomHKag36irxbwZgZNkHkYX3pbH9le9Geh75D1cQui_El-9A/s1600/Russell,%20Philbert%20Photo.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="863" data-original-width="1600" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPN6FtlwkoDai1Ei04LVHDrY45I_PjK6dW2fhjFflOD4NgIWQyxCC1Z1Ginq9e5W9lIJABhvxO8D6JkAlyOU6ctQPS5B8GdxuTmkJzMp5nLj1tqk6_nNsJjXbl5H0NbowDypNAECNRJsgomHKag36irxbwZgZNkHkYX3pbH9le9Geh75D1cQui_El-9A/w640-h346/Russell,%20Philbert%20Photo.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">We have determined that as of the date of this photo, November 29, 1941 Phil Russell was sixty years old. We have also determined that the man seated raised above the other guests in the foreground cannot possibly be Phil Russell. Where, then is Phil Russell? There is a head table along with other tables in front. At banquets where there is a head table, the guest of honor is usually seated at the head table. In the middle of the head table there is a flower arrangement - again probably to draw attention to the guest of honor. It's just a guess, because I never met Phil Russell nor was I alive in 1941, that the man under the arrows is Phil Russell:</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAOMxMJJbFmPkAy7TmADL8WJtYkVZcXTMMJDwcpRHglG1DBuCt9Y4VeJrHNyUOEMhRxyzl4_tvZG1o3z82ZImODftxSUcv96SpxkC6QSXjQFbYNUnPpYrPJ5eTCi2OJPTro1quGtxmxE1sn0sMXk0rybPPb6UoImmBbxdfkyjT4PWyPUw-dTLY01OfpA/s219/Russell%20with%20arrows.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="154" data-original-width="219" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAOMxMJJbFmPkAy7TmADL8WJtYkVZcXTMMJDwcpRHglG1DBuCt9Y4VeJrHNyUOEMhRxyzl4_tvZG1o3z82ZImODftxSUcv96SpxkC6QSXjQFbYNUnPpYrPJ5eTCi2OJPTro1quGtxmxE1sn0sMXk0rybPPb6UoImmBbxdfkyjT4PWyPUw-dTLY01OfpA/w320-h225/Russell%20with%20arrows.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">and I would guess that the woman wearing a corsage two seats to the right of Phil is his wife Claire. </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Even though there was a war on, people still fell in love, although their actually marriage was often postponed. Although Phil Russell was not in the newspaper of his own accord during this period, but his daughter was. In fact, she was mentioned three times in the Chicago Tribune of August 3, 1943. First, an announcement of the engagement of Shirley-Nelle to Mr. John Frederick Huling (1920-1970):</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpMT080AWfzbqKetfhK6l0lWrcI2OyA_Nef6eco6ZYF-fhHIrG8smHxv1VDnKkvEbvAP-Rn62GckzkdoEPsucmaphPVHkwt6NbHiHwoGmPLcvR7H1bRQJ0cUshP-yNcPMc9FADQGwcY-fpDL8einrgxX4m4pQOazw2ceVC4KLyR51-GGcwqfxfNbvdA/s568/Engagement%20Announcement.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="332" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpMT080AWfzbqKetfhK6l0lWrcI2OyA_Nef6eco6ZYF-fhHIrG8smHxv1VDnKkvEbvAP-Rn62GckzkdoEPsucmaphPVHkwt6NbHiHwoGmPLcvR7H1bRQJ0cUshP-yNcPMc9FADQGwcY-fpDL8einrgxX4m4pQOazw2ceVC4KLyR51-GGcwqfxfNbvdA/w374-h640/Engagement%20Announcement.JPG" width="374" /></a></div><br /><span>Her second mention:</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVNsU7jOQGuuqppssX3ppwKLkVhSLkb9-XqH_btDLyB595fadHqtszsN9iwj6RQoFdbAXIN_tdqwD6BwnIyPTnuVBq7jNbQiC4WOl5gsvFSnKHUo2BAAL6O4T8JNnTIuKzl5zsOF0UC8l7oMNE3KU6t21VCcBAG23sifksWwdCowHTVPrS4_wzzHdW_w/s259/Engaged.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="247" data-original-width="259" height="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVNsU7jOQGuuqppssX3ppwKLkVhSLkb9-XqH_btDLyB595fadHqtszsN9iwj6RQoFdbAXIN_tdqwD6BwnIyPTnuVBq7jNbQiC4WOl5gsvFSnKHUo2BAAL6O4T8JNnTIuKzl5zsOF0UC8l7oMNE3KU6t21VCcBAG23sifksWwdCowHTVPrS4_wzzHdW_w/w400-h381/Engaged.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /> </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"> And lastly:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi8CwcQJzDJG1cgjx2g_bTE3Cp3HeQyagm8lnd90wC4XBfULQhg1UBjNCw5tclGkgIF2Rcgs1XOTpWU43NXNvOXn_xH2gYVxc4Y3tqyw-JZxRm9pEwwVuvfZ0gn2-LZb-Pzofb93d68jL9gVzMIi5QGha9_lKmnsdSZnirIKH4yfOzYjfT2tZa-rJAYA/s256/3%20Mar%201943%20Crane%20League.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="156" data-original-width="256" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi8CwcQJzDJG1cgjx2g_bTE3Cp3HeQyagm8lnd90wC4XBfULQhg1UBjNCw5tclGkgIF2Rcgs1XOTpWU43NXNvOXn_xH2gYVxc4Y3tqyw-JZxRm9pEwwVuvfZ0gn2-LZb-Pzofb93d68jL9gVzMIi5QGha9_lKmnsdSZnirIKH4yfOzYjfT2tZa-rJAYA/w400-h244/3%20Mar%201943%20Crane%20League.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Several mentions were made of the "Mary Crane Nursery League." in connection with Shirley-Nelle Russell. For those not familiar with the organization, </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">the Mary Crane Center which was founded in 1907 by noted Chicagoan Jane Addams, promotes the comprehensive early development of children through school-readiness programs, personal enrichment activities, and family support services. T</span></span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">he Mary Crane Nursery League was founded in 1932 as a not-for-profit membership service organization to financially support the Mary Crane Nursery School. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;">The organization still exists on the west side of Chicago today as the Mary Crane Center in West Garfield Park.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The marriage finally took place on June 2, 1945:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhghnSrKsdrCGZlfLlQUOPJN0rJHVvy62UAzqGWKaLL9kk2mTLcZArf7KRGUCkhGSF_ug0OlaV0MpzVkYf4mL0qhqTtzolDfyBDctbfXuSGAZctgoq5OJSiTQyh6Y9zrQW4Fb15-VfTTFMn10OCrr-fxdqv_h_R4W_D2MPl-ijd_AUKjdxMT8EuUf1WhQ/s394/Wedding-%20Shirley-Nelle%20&%20John.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="394" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhghnSrKsdrCGZlfLlQUOPJN0rJHVvy62UAzqGWKaLL9kk2mTLcZArf7KRGUCkhGSF_ug0OlaV0MpzVkYf4mL0qhqTtzolDfyBDctbfXuSGAZctgoq5OJSiTQyh6Y9zrQW4Fb15-VfTTFMn10OCrr-fxdqv_h_R4W_D2MPl-ijd_AUKjdxMT8EuUf1WhQ/s320/Wedding-%20Shirley-Nelle%20&%20John.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">This is a report about the wedding from the Fairhope (AL) Courier from June 7, 1945:</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjns20o695yAhurqvbMmPX6myWfpktj7PxI1u8wO1nmePAKzifWpUhA0Y-UTe347Kz2jlTonyMrbaEPqv9mLRCNKL81JxSuK7qSg3YA06uqKCGm1Y4Wac6TzjnwYVT0Z5i1MjueDxJGZbzcXGHMX06RMFmDH_b75fBm6xNvDwbOpzJDUG_ZZTIMiUNRBQ/s1532/Marriage_of_Huling___Russell.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1532" data-original-width="565" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjns20o695yAhurqvbMmPX6myWfpktj7PxI1u8wO1nmePAKzifWpUhA0Y-UTe347Kz2jlTonyMrbaEPqv9mLRCNKL81JxSuK7qSg3YA06uqKCGm1Y4Wac6TzjnwYVT0Z5i1MjueDxJGZbzcXGHMX06RMFmDH_b75fBm6xNvDwbOpzJDUG_ZZTIMiUNRBQ/w236-h640/Marriage_of_Huling___Russell.jpg" width="236" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After their marriage, the Hulings lived in Fairhope, Alabama. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large;"><br /></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Strangely, the 1948 Evanston Directory listed Philbert Russell as the District Manager for the Prudential Insurance Company. Phil was born in 1881, so he turned 65 in 1946. In those days, retirement at the age of 65 was mandatory, especially in large corporations. Why was Phil Russell allowed to continue working after the mandatory retirement age of 65?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Chicago Tribune had a happy announcement about the Russell-Huling family on September 16, 1948:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS1T0lH9oAKjejTwgS3AOj8oBh0hpIzArPAsuLUna_3N-MgIdeBjkeWOyUI5VMl-i6z0553iTOvZk9_HVYhYdqNaRNkYzhOYYqIYfrMBZL3TJfaufa1lsbxYxZBBY4H-4PiHRr-w7-lRHuyr0KvwdNjYJP9JtazuzseM2rmsIuGelluT1jHSTR9cVaFA/s400/Birth%201948.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="165" data-original-width="400" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS1T0lH9oAKjejTwgS3AOj8oBh0hpIzArPAsuLUna_3N-MgIdeBjkeWOyUI5VMl-i6z0553iTOvZk9_HVYhYdqNaRNkYzhOYYqIYfrMBZL3TJfaufa1lsbxYxZBBY4H-4PiHRr-w7-lRHuyr0KvwdNjYJP9JtazuzseM2rmsIuGelluT1jHSTR9cVaFA/s320/Birth%201948.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Phil Russell and Claire were now the proud grandparents of Claire Lenore, called "Mimi" by the family.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here is the Huling family's Christmas card probably from Christmas, 1949:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTbf-J5NxCMK0FNQOC03gk72hJgdf4JZtFvvZYalJVTuecF_hIOWVM8Qywce37KMmIcX_-0kx6eynjOx1PsUGV5rpfmTXRsx2fwLM0S-_i9aWVuepvfdbG709oovgKml91dZY2HeGhcyZwpK8qwiRNj32GeheRhsKBk6F8Xd4fJI1CU_NCZ7lQzorHLA/s1076/John%20F%20Huling%20and%20Family.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1076" data-original-width="841" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTbf-J5NxCMK0FNQOC03gk72hJgdf4JZtFvvZYalJVTuecF_hIOWVM8Qywce37KMmIcX_-0kx6eynjOx1PsUGV5rpfmTXRsx2fwLM0S-_i9aWVuepvfdbG709oovgKml91dZY2HeGhcyZwpK8qwiRNj32GeheRhsKBk6F8Xd4fJI1CU_NCZ7lQzorHLA/w500-h640/John%20F%20Huling%20and%20Family.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1950 US Census raises questions about the Russell Family. The family was now living at 1641 Hinman Avenue in Evanston:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIftRx8hPVjuYzDtdNy9arIsw3dpp9SY51s8kpvJkhtqm5pBriBzCpYAwRfJ8-oGhBDeYMFZHoWw-_cUcb80GQ5SAvE3ac5NxNnJ4PCcZMW8xMurXV3J0oY4C0C7YUfzAuzi-niGm9Cwm75twamugqYYHuw7QRD26qLyRlBZLo_2d0rV9U9gO-szeAtg/s667/1641%20Hinman.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="449" data-original-width="667" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIftRx8hPVjuYzDtdNy9arIsw3dpp9SY51s8kpvJkhtqm5pBriBzCpYAwRfJ8-oGhBDeYMFZHoWw-_cUcb80GQ5SAvE3ac5NxNnJ4PCcZMW8xMurXV3J0oY4C0C7YUfzAuzi-niGm9Cwm75twamugqYYHuw7QRD26qLyRlBZLo_2d0rV9U9gO-szeAtg/w506-h340/1641%20Hinman.jpg" width="506" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1641 Hinman Avenue, Evanston, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><br />In addition to Phil and Claire, their daughter, son in law and granddaughter were living with them. But a strange thing happened when the Russells moved into 1641 Hinman - the ages of some of them decreased by fifteen years. The family consisted of Philbert M. (54 years old - he was actually 69!), Claire (51 - she was actually 65!), John F. Huling (29), Shirley (32), and Claire (1). Phil Russell indicated that his occupation is "Manager of an Insurance Company," however the "Number of Hours Worked" field was left blank. Son-in-law John Huling said his occupation was "Purchasing Agent" for a "Manufacturer of Paper Products." Claire, Shirley (she dropped the "Nelle") and Mimi had no other </span><span style="font-size: medium;">occupations listed.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Philbert Russell retired from the Prudential in 1952 with 51 years of service. He was 71 years old. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As many retirees do, Phil Russell enjoyed his retirement years by travelling. Here is a mention from the Fairhope (AL) Courier) on March 29, 1956:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6PyJwjPAHbLrVXvCXnHO0Si8-s05rYCv3kgiLAz5-E_UqUloSJ3VoLZbFIVu6N4jhAroTIQUCRpWVbIpFHgfFQT7AfsDT8QBzXvVzS01K2jF8nVmYUAitfl3Dz67Hs9qLZSJglrg8H32oY7_u4m1qKu_9MKPbCbWoVGH9t_UH_VbzNo6AWG2EM4_BmQ/s328/29%20Mar%201956.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="186" data-original-width="328" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6PyJwjPAHbLrVXvCXnHO0Si8-s05rYCv3kgiLAz5-E_UqUloSJ3VoLZbFIVu6N4jhAroTIQUCRpWVbIpFHgfFQT7AfsDT8QBzXvVzS01K2jF8nVmYUAitfl3Dz67Hs9qLZSJglrg8H32oY7_u4m1qKu_9MKPbCbWoVGH9t_UH_VbzNo6AWG2EM4_BmQ/s320/29%20Mar%201956.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>It appears that on the way back to Evanston from a trip to Florida they decided to stop in to Fairhope and see their son-in-law's parents, the John Hulings.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>In addition to travel, Philbert Russell was on the Board of Kendall College, Evanston as well as the Board of the First Methodist Church of Evanston.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Claire Mae Huston Russell died in Evanston, Illinois on August 6, 1963. She was seventy-eight years old. Here is her Death Notice from the Chicago Tribune of August 8, 1963:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl6C-UaZ8vPzI0to0lXhxCsvlRThlypzZEj4DnCD0YFyfVTYl7Nno5V8FliH5-HBrJT-vBff0_xh8ysTnSaPFOEj6J9b7gbfbjxTkrMJMMGkcqzhdZ5yCMT8LOz1BwJ7oYJwAihft2NwZpAdKHZAFS_Y7LxhJ5SsmK4JFwP1d5lRVaLVKigh9xZhWZQA/s603/08%20Aug%201963.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="284" data-original-width="603" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl6C-UaZ8vPzI0to0lXhxCsvlRThlypzZEj4DnCD0YFyfVTYl7Nno5V8FliH5-HBrJT-vBff0_xh8ysTnSaPFOEj6J9b7gbfbjxTkrMJMMGkcqzhdZ5yCMT8LOz1BwJ7oYJwAihft2NwZpAdKHZAFS_Y7LxhJ5SsmK4JFwP1d5lRVaLVKigh9xZhWZQA/w400-h189/08%20Aug%201963.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>Claire Russell is interred in the community mausoleum at Memorial Park Cemetery in Skokie, Illinois:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT52IIECSH__JjJC2Wwc7qkNQdkjR9fnJTgGsy24Pb_7NjJ2-s5mbazvOy7eRunvMDYAMch6lEUvK8OkzQk-XcFL8mxA6hc0OcpxP7jytkTv7tF_woTajplq3_bzHrRMfiSW3ys_BFlOgfUMznpEFWjyTaYZ4QHYwPy0efqU1D4gflh8jfhNrOOqEPcA/s2034/Russell,%20Claire.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2034" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT52IIECSH__JjJC2Wwc7qkNQdkjR9fnJTgGsy24Pb_7NjJ2-s5mbazvOy7eRunvMDYAMch6lEUvK8OkzQk-XcFL8mxA6hc0OcpxP7jytkTv7tF_woTajplq3_bzHrRMfiSW3ys_BFlOgfUMznpEFWjyTaYZ4QHYwPy0efqU1D4gflh8jfhNrOOqEPcA/w400-h297/Russell,%20Claire.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />At the time of Claire's death, the Russells were living at 1616 Judson Avenue in Evanston:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFQECuDCGB_gwSjV4sZ7FBzsrM2s7fVDF7sQehW6elzFKvlBxJVjkRmKo8ET1Sux83wz6ypYg7MwLxGlA9zGLdBACgUTivNmGLsskAl8J0KAIhNew97XLfockoTXhtz1IhKEdC9xWGkawioLjQ39KJ0OUmNO6tX1P2RyQ0nNOBFg-6nd9GexwHWyT--A/s521/1616%20Judson%20Evanston.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="521" data-original-width="464" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFQECuDCGB_gwSjV4sZ7FBzsrM2s7fVDF7sQehW6elzFKvlBxJVjkRmKo8ET1Sux83wz6ypYg7MwLxGlA9zGLdBACgUTivNmGLsskAl8J0KAIhNew97XLfockoTXhtz1IhKEdC9xWGkawioLjQ39KJ0OUmNO6tX1P2RyQ0nNOBFg-6nd9GexwHWyT--A/w356-h400/1616%20Judson%20Evanston.JPG" width="356" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1616 Judson Avenue, Evanston, Illinois<br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Phil and Claire Russell's daughter Shirley-Nelle and her husband John Huling and their granddaughter Mimi and her husband Kent Jones were also living with them at the 1616 Judson address.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Philbert Milton Russell died in Evanston on February 24, 1967. To make things just one big circle, at the time of his death he was living in the Georgian Hotel at 422 Davis Street - the site of his 40th Anniversary Dinner in 1941. By this time, the Georgian had been purchased by the Mather Senior Living Communities and was being operated as a retirement home. Here is his Obituary from February 25, 1967, and Death Notice, from February 26, 1967, both from the Chicago Tribune:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJSuU_9gdFtNdRMtdLKYdZhLI8-U9PAPGkhuTf1k7KiOmTF4-m_LvrbjU8-q1gVfGf79GygWtw3CMfM8ROJcOi6MQWI5eJUjMDGYnvHdeQhT1Of7EzejZ2xgyuh42lyDtY7lFBW6aSDi-FQ3k-675EC35xE_W-mcMUfZn7blj8MfKH8OktPG3WgiOSuQ/s620/Russell,%20P%20Death%20Notice%2026%20Feb%201967.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="293" data-original-width="620" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJSuU_9gdFtNdRMtdLKYdZhLI8-U9PAPGkhuTf1k7KiOmTF4-m_LvrbjU8-q1gVfGf79GygWtw3CMfM8ROJcOi6MQWI5eJUjMDGYnvHdeQhT1Of7EzejZ2xgyuh42lyDtY7lFBW6aSDi-FQ3k-675EC35xE_W-mcMUfZn7blj8MfKH8OktPG3WgiOSuQ/s320/Russell,%20P%20Death%20Notice%2026%20Feb%201967.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8W_2dpewYR2WZpb7kexrA7kJDlnxG0xum2AhmV_Mfqs36dSRJeJIaOgeoI461nljT5Fy9C21PJsmWehzXBHYFsgtxe9h-Uoox2atr1p4xJu3cGWSLCGMKyUsCB-7I19VfJODmZ039Y4XJSzBa0dTs8eNZFfarQZcjFRh99ZZCPftXWO9Vq-xIPbIAdA/s396/25%20Feb%201967.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="396" data-original-width="351" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8W_2dpewYR2WZpb7kexrA7kJDlnxG0xum2AhmV_Mfqs36dSRJeJIaOgeoI461nljT5Fy9C21PJsmWehzXBHYFsgtxe9h-Uoox2atr1p4xJu3cGWSLCGMKyUsCB-7I19VfJODmZ039Y4XJSzBa0dTs8eNZFfarQZcjFRh99ZZCPftXWO9Vq-xIPbIAdA/s320/25%20Feb%201967.JPG" width="284" /></a></div><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">He was interred with his wife in the Community Mausoleum at Memorial Park Cemetery in Skokie, Illinois:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2034" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnQwdebN6KJW1HNJQ-mpvIo6JQYnh-uuneq4P3ut6O977_2gvm8KwU24Dfu6JcfNl3NrzvxBrYhqzUYU9aasHNGgJ4T8hz8zZgXn0-MAmhnMHaLr-l3a1F3xL-m8kh5IMjeiOvHNNEzTVlmDtnrfqp6JMeiYGPxQL9w66zgjOD1kyecePRBU0TkJoUA/w400-h297/Russell%20Crypt.jpeg" width="400" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So that brings us to the end of the story of "Just Plain Phil." A man who was born, lived and then died. He also had a career, and was a husband and father. But like most of us, Phil Russell was neither famous nor infamous. It does seem, though, he had a life well-lived.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">May Philbert Milton Russell - "Just Plain Phil" rest in peace.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The rest of the story: John F. Huling died in 1970 at the age of forty-nine. His wife, Shirley-Nelle Russell Huling died in 2008 at the age of ninety. Both are interred in the Community Mausoleum of Memorial Park Cemetery in Skokie, Illinois, not too far from Shirley's parents. Phil and Claire Russell:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzXIqU0alMXH3L3vHhnRlIo_lOZ3CyuaC6K3G24V-ckpZ5MDpLpWTr6sgQvU7iBFOzoAhcLuJX3EqHjDKMe62qWtXbFlodYmK3QKmfXe4KPjPVIRB0vNHygjUrOc5aqCCqO5QpW5rA13Bcknd91eXjIuwMdeHUPeP4ri68lYK5AIi12F3ZecfpND1B5Q/s2039/John%20&%20Shirley-Nelle.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1362" data-original-width="2039" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzXIqU0alMXH3L3vHhnRlIo_lOZ3CyuaC6K3G24V-ckpZ5MDpLpWTr6sgQvU7iBFOzoAhcLuJX3EqHjDKMe62qWtXbFlodYmK3QKmfXe4KPjPVIRB0vNHygjUrOc5aqCCqO5QpW5rA13Bcknd91eXjIuwMdeHUPeP4ri68lYK5AIi12F3ZecfpND1B5Q/w400-h268/John%20&%20Shirley-Nelle.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Phil and Claire's granddaughter Claire Lenore "Mimi" Huling married Kent R. Jones in 1969, a Mr. Hanson in 1982 and Todd Van Slyke in 2002. She died in Evanston, Illinois in 2002 at the age of fifty-four. I was unable to find any information about where she was interred. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><u><b>Postscript:</b></u> As I mentioned above, this is my 300th blog entry since I started this blog on September 20, 2011. I have thoroughly enjoyed doing all the research and writing the stories so these people will not be forgotten. Let's face it, once something is on the Internet, it's out there forever. I am very grateful for all the positive feedback I have received from my readers. I especially like it when I am contacted by the families of people I have written about. They have been most kind in their praise, and I appreciate any corrections they point out or their willingness to share family photos, clippings, etc.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This blog would not have been successful without the assistance of the world's #1 researcher, Mike Kelly. He has an amazing talent to be able to uncover even the most obscure facts for me when I need them. His abilities are almost miraculous - and greatly appreciated.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">One thing I have learned since beginning this blog is that I will never run out of people to write about. Any cemetery has literally thousands of stories just waiting to be "dug-up." It has been suggested that I start charging a membership fee to access my blog, or at least allowing advertisements so I could make a little money off this work. My answer to both is "No." This is a fun pursuit, and one I look forward to every day. If there were financial considerations involved that would take the fun out of it. And ads? Nobody likes those and I don't want my readers to have to slog through ads to get to the stories I have written.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And to the person who continually steals my research and presents it as his own on his website, I guess I should be flattered.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Thanks most of all to my readers. I have met some of you, and even found I was related to some of you. Thank you for your loyalty. As long as I am able I will continue to try to dig up the stories that are "Under Every Tombstone." </span></div></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-50839184003997292282023-06-01T04:05:00.001-07:002023-06-01T04:05:38.677-07:00THE FIRST FEMALE TRAINER OF GERMAN SHEPHERD DOGS IN THE U.S. - Maie R. B. West<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span>One of my hobbies is collecting bound issues of <i>Sunset</i> Magazine. If you are not familiar with it, <i>Sunset</i> </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span>is a publication that focuses on homes and gardens, food and travel in what it calls "the Western lifestyle," though it has evolved significantly, as one might expect, over its history. </span></span><i>Sunset</i><span> has been published since 1898 and I thoroughly enjoy reading issues from years ago that describe what life in the west was like in days gone by.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I recently purchased a volume with issues from July through December, 1925 that used to belong to the Redondo Beach Public Library. Now that everything is being digitized, libraries are selling off their physical books, magazines, etc. During this time, <i>Sunset</i> had an article every month introducing people they called "Interesting Westerners." The July, 1925 issue mentioned a woman named Mrs. Maie R.B. West. Here is how the article about her began:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>She is a Trainer of Police Dogs</b>: The first woman to train police dogs professionally in the United States was Mrs. Maie R.B. West. She has become an international expert. Her residence is in Reno, Nevada, and it is there, at the foot of the High Sierra not far from Lake Tahoe, that she trains prize-winning pets in her famous Lewanno Kennels.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>It was just ten years ago that an imported German police dog was given to Mrs. West. Upon showing the animal she was asked what she expected to do with it. </i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i> "Why," she said, rather surprised, "I expect to train Bodo, of course."</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>"But you can't train a police dog," was the answer. "No woman has ever been able to do it. The dogs are too big and strong, the training requires unlimited patience and knowledge of their habits, and the work is not light."</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>"Is that so?" retorted Mrs. West. "Well, just wait and see whether or not I can train them." </i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here is a photo of Mrs. West and one of her champion dogs that accompanied the article:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYTx4enOJWuJj2KZyHCNBU9QaEIKyUkvlpAmnxn3dS5plNAild9urx4cdFqau8ExqQhVDC7E4w0I5YFSlCCUlTRwhIiZo2TxNiWzClqKNr_TZcVBgXXiYHo8s2ILRK4dpINLzjyBZpMZAZe2K4vBTFFxUxsa8uTvHSJtzVFt6eh2yEECJiC0fQSG-x_w/s1547/Maie%20R.%20B.%20West.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1547" data-original-width="1414" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYTx4enOJWuJj2KZyHCNBU9QaEIKyUkvlpAmnxn3dS5plNAild9urx4cdFqau8ExqQhVDC7E4w0I5YFSlCCUlTRwhIiZo2TxNiWzClqKNr_TZcVBgXXiYHo8s2ILRK4dpINLzjyBZpMZAZe2K4vBTFFxUxsa8uTvHSJtzVFt6eh2yEECJiC0fQSG-x_w/w365-h400/Maie%20R.%20B.%20West.jpg" width="365" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mrs. Maie R. B. West with Ch. Asta Aldinger</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">For purposes of this article, any reference to a "police dog" means a German Shepherd. Years ago people called German Shepherds "police dogs" to acknowledge that although they had originally been bred to herd sheep, in later years they proved invaluable as helpers to law enforcement. Also during World War I and World War II anything German was Americanized like when they started calling sauerkraut "liberty cabbage."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So let's see what we can "dig up" about Maie R.B. West and how she became the first female police dog trainer in the United States (if not the world).</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Maie R.B. West was born Sara Richardson Barnum on April 28, 1883 in New York City, New York. H</span><span>er parents were Joshua Willets Barnum (1847-1906) and Mary Richmond Taylor (1848-1931). Joshua Barnum owned one of the largest "</span><span style="text-align: left;"><span>country places" on Long Island. It was an extensive stock farm, where high class horses were raised. Although the "Barnum Farm" as it was known had originally been much larger, when Joshua and Mary lived there it had been reduced to 180 acres. Joshua and Mary had been married in New York on June 5, 1879. Sara was their only child.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1900 US Census finds the Barnum family living on a farm in Hempstead, New York, "Meadow Brook." The family consisted of Joshua (52 years old), his wife Mary R. (48), and their daughter, also named Mary R. (17). Joshua and Mary said they were both twenty-one when they had married, and Mary said she had given birth to one child, who was still alive in 1900. Living on the farm with the Barnums was a Farm Manager, a Gardener, thirteen Farm Laborers, a Cook, a Chambermaid, and three Servants. It appears the Barnums were very well to do. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">History does not record when Sara (or Mary) Richardson Barnum started calling herself "Maie" or where she got the original spelling, but by the time this item appeared in the <i>Brooklyn Daily Eagle</i> on September 22, 1902, that is what she was calling herself:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="255" data-original-width="241" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOZdLd4lmjjSWiizepbBssM8B417BhZYIAs7yJAatpRXj_8_TnMVyZ_nnE9Opznc-PrkAaaKAIri5dIRpD54k3iWDRpgp3qObl8DXjpMwX3Rex2JpqFgJ-nHRJ1FpYXgtqOqYczCLZYlncy_WqJvWT9FkPs6ONTVPQbt3tMCbThnh1Iq8TBcE5DayxsQ/w378-h400/Maie%2022%20Sep%201902.JPG" width="378" /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Newspapers of the time frequently reported Maie Barnum not only as an accomplished horsewoman, but also as a debutante. This is from the <i>Brooklyn Life</i> newspaper from December 13, 1902:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Np_YcYjSIc_393ZH4g0EjqqEUQO-yBXgmVH0BUwD6PSMEJVen4RkLvDBqV7BRQI9JEbyr4am1bGflYNjFzJBEa479bOYNc6Z-JxkSqdB1TBWLByKH5RB50w-L0h0XlcU5IcZovWVzODzl_uUwMIE8hAkqlAM7NrNvpmgOoWu2NruGovh0bTg_u-Qzg/s471/maie%2013%20Dec%201902.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="471" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Np_YcYjSIc_393ZH4g0EjqqEUQO-yBXgmVH0BUwD6PSMEJVen4RkLvDBqV7BRQI9JEbyr4am1bGflYNjFzJBEa479bOYNc6Z-JxkSqdB1TBWLByKH5RB50w-L0h0XlcU5IcZovWVzODzl_uUwMIE8hAkqlAM7NrNvpmgOoWu2NruGovh0bTg_u-Qzg/w666-h281/maie%2013%20Dec%201902.JPG" width="666" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A happy event was reported in the <i>Brooklyn Life</i> newspaper on October 7, 1905:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0YDetUjHl3YdEtAdnB3IQHC9YUHIjqGSs84D1Xj6P_Ip5snp8LgVv2v8-1e2SNQdYxl_Aruj1Ic7-_wJ_mZDQs8aO-1ILxnsdaN2kfCgNQ47gGQFtXAaXR49hqRSjxApC3wpVfD-fSKUW-JOG0ArN7461Cy0Kh0ajkjYBdO57U0CH5GxCLYCgw6t0gg/s754/Maie%2007%20Oct%201905.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="374" data-original-width="754" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0YDetUjHl3YdEtAdnB3IQHC9YUHIjqGSs84D1Xj6P_Ip5snp8LgVv2v8-1e2SNQdYxl_Aruj1Ic7-_wJ_mZDQs8aO-1ILxnsdaN2kfCgNQ47gGQFtXAaXR49hqRSjxApC3wpVfD-fSKUW-JOG0ArN7461Cy0Kh0ajkjYBdO57U0CH5GxCLYCgw6t0gg/w656-h326/Maie%2007%20Oct%201905.JPG" width="656" /></a></div><br />Frederick Leighton Harris was born in October of 1880 in Hempstead, Long Island, New York to Frederick L. Harris (????-1888) and Eliza Jane Stoppani (1860-1938). </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Maie was definitely marrying within her social set. This is from the <i>Brooklyn Daily Eagle</i> from October 8, 1905:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU_FWhtlQXvCIj4Gbp1OEYkB05EOA5fCKfteCFmdH9FHMy_sk6sSXIkawT0h02m3F1ZoeQTohMlSzomYJMZqDeVXLnLXl2o1wAC5y-C-Jrfu390eAPTWFm5WxOumsSLqTcvuCwcHlsPwGeZaZDCG2P1p_ShHQRckmCNqJGp2L__0aGcSuTbrttUg_nCg/s636/Maie%2008%20Oct%201905.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="636" data-original-width="349" height="778" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU_FWhtlQXvCIj4Gbp1OEYkB05EOA5fCKfteCFmdH9FHMy_sk6sSXIkawT0h02m3F1ZoeQTohMlSzomYJMZqDeVXLnLXl2o1wAC5y-C-Jrfu390eAPTWFm5WxOumsSLqTcvuCwcHlsPwGeZaZDCG2P1p_ShHQRckmCNqJGp2L__0aGcSuTbrttUg_nCg/w428-h778/Maie%2008%20Oct%201905.JPG" width="428" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Apparently the wedding came off without a hitch. This is from <i>Brooklyn Life</i> from 28 October, 1905:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; font-size: x-large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="242" data-original-width="452" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi887W0sAGkS5WuyZQcJonqZKi1pAvv2NmmXKmDEg8Ty5ItdcDGHS5vP4XWHRPQsxx6iYO_Y3apAXsoVykfR1xVrG9jx6Oq1UyF-gx0jEDrHqHAa3KLl5t4pVJb175TjagnjakdLtkVN9U780TlA8nngCtIL3H-hrssmadOaGCKbKtxPXGP8cYorqSiUg/w665-h356/Maie%2028%20Oct%201905-1.JPG" width="665" /><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="463" height="435" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXkdm3VEk0CwViw6VTGcieu6fz5DLatNovVte0R-gzPHEVTRC2U2HPUzfII1Z1bdXx_LiuaC-SZtm2zWHPKkXWtG3dXVXF9nmcYHMUmCG0hdsflURytu35z4a8g6d2BcC5cMyHodfHv5kngv2GXO8DmZT5Dd4CELxJvI4S8SFa7EC4yo33JEwhsNxN7A/w672-h435/Maie%2028%20Oct%201905-2.JPG" width="672" /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">The <i>Brooklyn Life</i> newspaper reported the death of Maie's father, Joshua Barnum in their issue of June 2, 1906:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlObFSZvS0gsEm3w4JQUBU0ZDyluLr0W58ZG7rQFDldMFWmOYPuyYh7nyDWcL9N7Nr0YnPrREqtkmjDerqJfwBf8bLxGruO7uTssPanccYKXvIp5jWWh9dS-zVTlBdspZ-nKDU1bER4ZSJtsMSPAVQkuzbj8-bY2A-U0CZodVzu5Od4kt9UNpo4dYdIw/s597/Maie%2002%20Jun%201906.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="107" data-original-width="597" height="114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlObFSZvS0gsEm3w4JQUBU0ZDyluLr0W58ZG7rQFDldMFWmOYPuyYh7nyDWcL9N7Nr0YnPrREqtkmjDerqJfwBf8bLxGruO7uTssPanccYKXvIp5jWWh9dS-zVTlBdspZ-nKDU1bER4ZSJtsMSPAVQkuzbj8-bY2A-U0CZodVzu5Od4kt9UNpo4dYdIw/w640-h114/Maie%2002%20Jun%201906.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Joshua Barnum was buried in the family plot at Greenfield Cemetery in Uniondale, New York:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDd9w3MFcuCDisU5h3MUmuBUturI415QgMxUqJ3YKkR5q0AbBk-LVpn_95XwKNFjUM82nd09T9j_cMZPHP3y3T_HrHYSOtlOKE6GZqQqVe09wEOsWPrhGyvnsHQJxoLvO1DGFEvswAMPxZEX9ciaY9ZPSnsdLJqk9wUqxwxe9JuceuY07DUkMwtPHIHQ/s588/Barnum,%20Joshua.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="588" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDd9w3MFcuCDisU5h3MUmuBUturI415QgMxUqJ3YKkR5q0AbBk-LVpn_95XwKNFjUM82nd09T9j_cMZPHP3y3T_HrHYSOtlOKE6GZqQqVe09wEOsWPrhGyvnsHQJxoLvO1DGFEvswAMPxZEX9ciaY9ZPSnsdLJqk9wUqxwxe9JuceuY07DUkMwtPHIHQ/w326-h400/Barnum,%20Joshua.jpg" width="326" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZjRWT-TdSvr0T-G3-Thq84CGLFXAvt5nJfCfywPNI5H3WTptFYDH_7ynKSaFBbwuydaQ6OFnrbM4AFsBmfttOPxZByVcx8iixp3B1GWnpldFTIcLBmNswCmaBZSYiZ2oTqXahXJpIpcSnZNEHz_67ywU5lY5XlPIYYnBoo1h0NY3-DgNIgax6x99t3w/s510/36883385_124183523184.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="510" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZjRWT-TdSvr0T-G3-Thq84CGLFXAvt5nJfCfywPNI5H3WTptFYDH_7ynKSaFBbwuydaQ6OFnrbM4AFsBmfttOPxZByVcx8iixp3B1GWnpldFTIcLBmNswCmaBZSYiZ2oTqXahXJpIpcSnZNEHz_67ywU5lY5XlPIYYnBoo1h0NY3-DgNIgax6x99t3w/w400-h376/36883385_124183523184.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Unfortunately tragedy struck Maie again just a few short months after the death of her father, when it was announced that her husband Frederick Leighton Harris had died on August 17, 1906 from complications of appendicitis. He was only twenty-five years old.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUh6brrTDo_KrwQ4K3TjxJRFslkqejf6UljvAr_z-7vc8qeqi0fZFHl-kG9e4OsR8R1XOjYzrVIAHtUUckl8nb0W2jIIRF-wpPjnUp8-L9qFy33SoUJkQztfrF3Shcv8Lnwv9dj_7fsvDi-_AdbQ62q-dWbumcSScq5WuCpwaGGlb-I5Js4TzlTEu4-g/s596/Maie%2017%20Aug%201906.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="596" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUh6brrTDo_KrwQ4K3TjxJRFslkqejf6UljvAr_z-7vc8qeqi0fZFHl-kG9e4OsR8R1XOjYzrVIAHtUUckl8nb0W2jIIRF-wpPjnUp8-L9qFy33SoUJkQztfrF3Shcv8Lnwv9dj_7fsvDi-_AdbQ62q-dWbumcSScq5WuCpwaGGlb-I5Js4TzlTEu4-g/w640-h440/Maie%2017%20Aug%201906.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Frederick Harris is buried in St. Anne's Cemetery, Sayville, New York:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yPwcZKpLR1Ogzm8f9SsJJw_XhK4PE8Y74HcTgdrQhu85MPaFlzp9SQArbVMxHdUZ7d-ff8OCF3uzSNn5zjgo9s1ZZ0p-kUUYg4cS_NT7NDerfyeh6zulu7luCqzEzuvcS9D3dn3KwfHU08UbbrXe11QADwN6phcWEzezY3QcoPp3r_OIyWSWFMFanQ/s507/Harros,%20Frederick%20Tombstone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="423" data-original-width="507" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yPwcZKpLR1Ogzm8f9SsJJw_XhK4PE8Y74HcTgdrQhu85MPaFlzp9SQArbVMxHdUZ7d-ff8OCF3uzSNn5zjgo9s1ZZ0p-kUUYg4cS_NT7NDerfyeh6zulu7luCqzEzuvcS9D3dn3KwfHU08UbbrXe11QADwN6phcWEzezY3QcoPp3r_OIyWSWFMFanQ/w400-h334/Harros,%20Frederick%20Tombstone.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On April 25, 1908 the <i>Brooklyn Life</i> newspaper reported the second marriage of Maie Richmond Barnum. This marriage was to Mr. Leopold Frederick Florian Wanner (1880-1943):</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqIrvNPaTLNqybclhTPgIyST90h1-blTbv2KOZnBjB55-qczc0QsykyxneF7YNF9peA22WKJSiznm7mP9qBOsSGnmHvfjWe2RcsGJi6p-QO4wfDW_0zVhztqyBxufEn4GPkA16aMgr0r7CXtK0satJYUs9lBdvWZ-CRfWCxgVDKo_C3BdOyfkRoz_Huw/s468/Maie%2025%20Apr%201908.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="339" data-original-width="468" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqIrvNPaTLNqybclhTPgIyST90h1-blTbv2KOZnBjB55-qczc0QsykyxneF7YNF9peA22WKJSiznm7mP9qBOsSGnmHvfjWe2RcsGJi6p-QO4wfDW_0zVhztqyBxufEn4GPkA16aMgr0r7CXtK0satJYUs9lBdvWZ-CRfWCxgVDKo_C3BdOyfkRoz_Huw/w640-h464/Maie%2025%20Apr%201908.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Leopold Frederick Florian Wanner was born September 22, 1880 in Hoboken, New Jersey to Charles Albert Wanner (1835-????) and Katherine Ebrecht (1841-????). Leo Wanner reported several different occupations during the years. At times he said he was a Securities Dealer, another time he said he was in "Net Goods" and another that he was a "Manufacturer."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I was unable to find either Leo Wanner or Maie Wanner in the 1910 US Census, but t</span><span style="font-size: medium;">he 1915 New Jersey Census finds the Wanners living at 411 Gregory Avenue in West Orange, New Jersey (that address no longer exists). Leo F. Wanner said he was born in September of 1882 (it was 1880) in Holland, New York (it was Hoboken, New Jersey). His wife Maie Wanner said she was born in September of 1883 (it was April of 1883) in New York (correct). Leo said he had been in the US ten years and was a Naturalized citizen. In reality he was a native-born citizen of the US and had lived in the US his entire life. </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">They said they were renting their apartment and could both read and write and speak English. Leo said his occupation was "Net Goods" and Maie said she was a "Housewife." </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I know I've said this before, but you really can't use census data as a primary genealogical resource. People could (and did) tell the census taker anything, and did not have to back up anything they said. Why was this? Did people think it was cute to make up a story for the census taker? It is surprising that people would give the census taker incorrect information because in those days, people took things like the census far more seriously than they do today. Leo Wanner didn't just shave a few years off his age, he made up a whole fictional tale about himself.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This census also indicates that the Wanners had a live-in Japanese butler with the memorable name of Yomazat Yomaguchi</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Throughout the period from 1910-1920 Maie's name frequently appeared in local newspapers. She was an accomplished horsewoman since her youth but now she was also a champion golfer. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This is from the <i>Newark (NJ) Star Eagle</i> from October 17, 1911:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYj9Av5K5iYV2lLzBxHxuA6iiSkup08rpwNhayZ4QHe-9BgLfD-cfF0r-8Eqm6xJebR5_QR_nqwiMArQV6moahPZrg4ILdPgLDWf-_GFcsng48VDWNKP-ZV67J5DXwLDCTfniFiksYCn6ZlyWBLg6b-TDEuHyuLRb0zmHiWN53yDAZ8fZZTOSPIwo4Cg/s223/1911%2017%20Oct%20Newark%20Star-Eagle.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="174" data-original-width="223" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYj9Av5K5iYV2lLzBxHxuA6iiSkup08rpwNhayZ4QHe-9BgLfD-cfF0r-8Eqm6xJebR5_QR_nqwiMArQV6moahPZrg4ILdPgLDWf-_GFcsng48VDWNKP-ZV67J5DXwLDCTfniFiksYCn6ZlyWBLg6b-TDEuHyuLRb0zmHiWN53yDAZ8fZZTOSPIwo4Cg/w400-h312/1911%2017%20Oct%20Newark%20Star-Eagle.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and this is from the <i>New York Times</i> of June 26, 1912:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJi6E2-BYsnvPQp7D4tuJAnJE1Z_8hKkeBtJME1t24NGYXaFBtXsqHNP66ViyeoT30EmAIP8Q1s6bYRsy4m3n0p7Tc6GTxd_7Hav935OiuJ_UTc820JdX9HRkUQbUjLZq0DxCI-kukV0mC1FsS33hlW2kmB8BoC6oiYEeE1hgUOqYhlCIuQd_jQt71RA/s347/1912%2026%20Jun%20NY%20Times.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="277" data-original-width="347" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJi6E2-BYsnvPQp7D4tuJAnJE1Z_8hKkeBtJME1t24NGYXaFBtXsqHNP66ViyeoT30EmAIP8Q1s6bYRsy4m3n0p7Tc6GTxd_7Hav935OiuJ_UTc820JdX9HRkUQbUjLZq0DxCI-kukV0mC1FsS33hlW2kmB8BoC6oiYEeE1hgUOqYhlCIuQd_jQt71RA/w400-h319/1912%2026%20Jun%20NY%20Times.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Then articles started appearing about the Wanners being dog breeders, calling their operation "Lewanno Kennels.". This is from the <i>New York Sun</i> from July 4, 1915:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZAkwt-PsnF3ix8IICvxsNAGwhSbChZGJSc9DoP2tJjGAlgkOBxyZnACMe3cdeiHr2TJVHGpNvrb6gqGcjthORy5kMCRCVWqtcS6ydnG9ofsS7W4HTz8KZxxRH5q7nb7-6xpL5_RQ4lRgdgUI9jUDBQILGhsE7JmvJyKW20XHxQKy-6H7Ht8mfZxeqw/s352/1915%2004%20Jul%20The%20Sun.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="228" data-original-width="352" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZAkwt-PsnF3ix8IICvxsNAGwhSbChZGJSc9DoP2tJjGAlgkOBxyZnACMe3cdeiHr2TJVHGpNvrb6gqGcjthORy5kMCRCVWqtcS6ydnG9ofsS7W4HTz8KZxxRH5q7nb7-6xpL5_RQ4lRgdgUI9jUDBQILGhsE7JmvJyKW20XHxQKy-6H7Ht8mfZxeqw/w400-h259/1915%2004%20Jul%20The%20Sun.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and this also from the <i>Sun</i> from May 21, 1916:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkMGLQNPiLVc71EHsoPnqfjxCMEKJ5DH2TCnUYlzD7XJKuriiJCDhcCgNaUL_eMOiGtEjRRCjltUIJ5azHWEjwjWsosh7RzpUdQxNDGt6JO2TCTDMmfCFx7tvs8hCB22dAjKGpVcG0tjv2AxFiwleel4-TRNIV2HuVilqzuSO5jXowDlo1JqR9-S6lVg/s431/1916%2021%20May%20The%20Sun.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="191" data-original-width="431" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkMGLQNPiLVc71EHsoPnqfjxCMEKJ5DH2TCnUYlzD7XJKuriiJCDhcCgNaUL_eMOiGtEjRRCjltUIJ5azHWEjwjWsosh7RzpUdQxNDGt6JO2TCTDMmfCFx7tvs8hCB22dAjKGpVcG0tjv2AxFiwleel4-TRNIV2HuVilqzuSO5jXowDlo1JqR9-S6lVg/w400-h178/1916%2021%20May%20The%20Sun.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The dogs bred by the Wanners were so good at catching criminals that Maie was deputized by the Chief of Police of Hempstead, Long Island. This is from the <i>Brooklyn (NY) Daily Eagle</i> of April 6, 1917:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoDJ3jUoTAMOdkW30D1IjBMKE3NbnP79yz4MRs6xFBGDpJEpzCNWNLkcoi4UbaRxfNzCTQ8CFIrdojnHgOjJZoB04ur_pWYsqX9pUnLmQHQR6EhCxkuMvTjDGjTbjbXjOfrTTPjmF82PRtTRLZzPMUElzE3ort3XLnObeFToDdGFPabRXrDSZNFhdHbg/s397/1917%2006%20Apr%20Brooklyn%20Daily%20Eagle.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="380" data-original-width="397" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoDJ3jUoTAMOdkW30D1IjBMKE3NbnP79yz4MRs6xFBGDpJEpzCNWNLkcoi4UbaRxfNzCTQ8CFIrdojnHgOjJZoB04ur_pWYsqX9pUnLmQHQR6EhCxkuMvTjDGjTbjbXjOfrTTPjmF82PRtTRLZzPMUElzE3ort3XLnObeFToDdGFPabRXrDSZNFhdHbg/s320/1917%2006%20Apr%20Brooklyn%20Daily%20Eagle.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and also from the <i>Washington (DC) Times</i> of May 23, 1917:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcG-5uD7loS-OnNTlWY0rcOZJM_tMCuI00uBHGpkof_51ChdQpyKkDodwnOBfEIDH2zDFov3GPnkaztKnrRwif9SKTKCw3VeEED8a2o0iH0KXwopHwTfHu5iMlT2fvMA5p2wn3D84hEFxYrXOKvYGYR5kI0M9rp69h6lMnrkbNIYBN8QqHswRwQAzTOA/s383/1917%2023%20May%20Washington%20Times.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="383" data-original-width="363" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcG-5uD7loS-OnNTlWY0rcOZJM_tMCuI00uBHGpkof_51ChdQpyKkDodwnOBfEIDH2zDFov3GPnkaztKnrRwif9SKTKCw3VeEED8a2o0iH0KXwopHwTfHu5iMlT2fvMA5p2wn3D84hEFxYrXOKvYGYR5kI0M9rp69h6lMnrkbNIYBN8QqHswRwQAzTOA/w379-h400/1917%2023%20May%20Washington%20Times.JPG" width="379" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You will note that at the beginning of the decade stories referred to both Leo Wanner and wife Maie, but as the decade progressed it became more and more about Maie. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The dogs produced by the Lewanno Kennels were so renowned as police dogs that Mae felt they could be helpful with the war (World War I) effort as well. This is from the <i>Greensboro (NC) Record</i> of June 26, 1917:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzMZQ8OrOleqzhX6iM-8-WtnBC3NCEiTUJ7L9HYmI8r9bfS6cKhoOAfsqhRqOXmLK7aEBmU9EZV3TnvdZTQBcvXeVNGJgWlqxeMeo8DFR1XKv4h2s9XYcOk9qszOL7Mfwv4qleLAZUoV5xA6bBqeb9UAO0TSp5SNjIvttce8SucFy-tjFXGN35fr6Eg/s355/26%20Jun%201917.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="355" data-original-width="215" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzMZQ8OrOleqzhX6iM-8-WtnBC3NCEiTUJ7L9HYmI8r9bfS6cKhoOAfsqhRqOXmLK7aEBmU9EZV3TnvdZTQBcvXeVNGJgWlqxeMeo8DFR1XKv4h2s9XYcOk9qszOL7Mfwv4qleLAZUoV5xA6bBqeb9UAO0TSp5SNjIvttce8SucFy-tjFXGN35fr6Eg/w387-h640/26%20Jun%201917.JPG" width="387" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and this from the <i>St. Louis (MO) Star and Times</i> from June 27, 1917:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02qtUvuWD7BE2r1rir-Nwjpaza2xjtT3ZMG6ggMxq8NskmNKLgqGMQUay3pfXDIzgyfULP8DVJA9ys-QK0TvuWTSILwsbtBjyzaOUBD7DDZzjcDeElnWQ_ZIKp4cASTNg4Rqxd8C-r1XBlqfSYRQeCZEeZ_Uu3aJByGHfdnyuc-526iSYIfFSJj0hVQ/s544/1917%20Jun%2027%20St.%20Louis%20Star%20and%20Times.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="486" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02qtUvuWD7BE2r1rir-Nwjpaza2xjtT3ZMG6ggMxq8NskmNKLgqGMQUay3pfXDIzgyfULP8DVJA9ys-QK0TvuWTSILwsbtBjyzaOUBD7DDZzjcDeElnWQ_ZIKp4cASTNg4Rqxd8C-r1XBlqfSYRQeCZEeZ_Uu3aJByGHfdnyuc-526iSYIfFSJj0hVQ/w573-h640/1917%20Jun%2027%20St.%20Louis%20Star%20and%20Times.JPG" width="573" /></a></div><br /> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and this from the <i>Brownsville (TX) Herald</i> from December 24, 1917:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8wyC_mRfuC_cUyLmjan40EefwpO-oxCWnNwJZN7tHI-mRrICsYqRybJZJN_9EzzDBbiVUXXQqslD3w0Cilr2NRUleHewfTYrUCa9f7AAcETRDKIx6TKtxzZ8O8hmR5PLu1_Em1Qv6msT-VDxq3FjtTdVZRXhEoVY5c8swW5NSopQL2mU0c2WI_WbuMg/s2516/1917%2024%20Dec%20Brownsville%20Herald.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2516" data-original-width="1006" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8wyC_mRfuC_cUyLmjan40EefwpO-oxCWnNwJZN7tHI-mRrICsYqRybJZJN_9EzzDBbiVUXXQqslD3w0Cilr2NRUleHewfTYrUCa9f7AAcETRDKIx6TKtxzZ8O8hmR5PLu1_Em1Qv6msT-VDxq3FjtTdVZRXhEoVY5c8swW5NSopQL2mU0c2WI_WbuMg/w256-h640/1917%2024%20Dec%20Brownsville%20Herald.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Remember, women were not supposed to be able to train German Shepherd dogs. Maie Wanner didn't think about it, she just did it. The best known of Maie Wanner's German Shepherds was the famous "Filax of Lewanno" a decorated war hero </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">who rescued 54 Allied soldiers during World War I. Here is a photo of Maie with Filax:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3bqtr3wu6zUvcbzvZRbchFI5BVplGAVjZZBiVaI-WENPY78WUP2fbOi2phOQrCBHNAsR-eD7bEQr4x8BRehUn7nNJN35pjzk8F15zNTvIKJUwF0a7-PEne_urR3N5nus6nhL9WEMhsMNy2HnlJwrK8APuwLriGi_TkCDH22YvTlb-icxBP_BO0P46-w/s710/Maie%20with%20Filax.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="710" data-original-width="539" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3bqtr3wu6zUvcbzvZRbchFI5BVplGAVjZZBiVaI-WENPY78WUP2fbOi2phOQrCBHNAsR-eD7bEQr4x8BRehUn7nNJN35pjzk8F15zNTvIKJUwF0a7-PEne_urR3N5nus6nhL9WEMhsMNy2HnlJwrK8APuwLriGi_TkCDH22YvTlb-icxBP_BO0P46-w/w486-h640/Maie%20with%20Filax.JPG" width="486" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Unfortunately all of this publicity might have been the cause of a tragedy. Fire struck the Lewanno Kennels shortly before dawn on May 19, 1918 when the kennels were destroyed and valuable dogs killed, including the beloved Filax. Arson was suspected in retaliation from all of Maie Wanner's (and Filax's) work to support the Allies. Here is the sad story from the <i>Brooklyn (NY) Eagle</i> of May 20, 1918:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5MLqGGSCG_Q4fPodVUvzEONyH14htVcTKyoD00iEehgC2rN2xhQq6IpdP6MzhWfCjY9lxjr9jK1oBll36S0PzT7D6GBEM_C2IuqsfsDh5JwrJ_M5ag0phMbYZb--hUbaXpNeZutSiBeNO0KRjSjUJ-Q8LDmtgTbsgd_6MKqZ2B0TXIHZXb0juCxD1OA/s2988/1918%205%2020%20Brooklyn_Daily_Eagle.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2988" data-original-width="672" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5MLqGGSCG_Q4fPodVUvzEONyH14htVcTKyoD00iEehgC2rN2xhQq6IpdP6MzhWfCjY9lxjr9jK1oBll36S0PzT7D6GBEM_C2IuqsfsDh5JwrJ_M5ag0phMbYZb--hUbaXpNeZutSiBeNO0KRjSjUJ-Q8LDmtgTbsgd_6MKqZ2B0TXIHZXb0juCxD1OA/s16000/1918%205%2020%20Brooklyn_Daily_Eagle.jpg" /></a></div><br /> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You will note that now they were referred to as "Mrs. Wanner's kennels." No mention is made of Mr. Wanner. In late 1919 the <i>Pinehurst (NC) Outlook</i> reported that Maie Wanner has purchased a home in Pinehurst:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5sie7sycXXR4c0jOnpQOZ2S9oK_7QpY3uEZHFWS4oaWzV4QUbsoa6KtOhvW5r7K8-hn5NwFxUNHx0a2iNZMhHPeD_Fxg-vgT29Aiil0595EYpe8UZ0lK1Hgb-57pxilwltvk4HEsBvbRVxgTc_iB-XJ8luvrtyDP5NL2sUPlN6TAbQEPAC4uXrQPdVA/s367/1919%2024%20Dec%20Pinehurst%20Outlook.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="269" data-original-width="367" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5sie7sycXXR4c0jOnpQOZ2S9oK_7QpY3uEZHFWS4oaWzV4QUbsoa6KtOhvW5r7K8-hn5NwFxUNHx0a2iNZMhHPeD_Fxg-vgT29Aiil0595EYpe8UZ0lK1Hgb-57pxilwltvk4HEsBvbRVxgTc_iB-XJ8luvrtyDP5NL2sUPlN6TAbQEPAC4uXrQPdVA/w400-h294/1919%2024%20Dec%20Pinehurst%20Outlook.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">While "the Wanners" are mentioned, the purchase appears to have been done solely by Mrs. Wanner.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Even with all of her dog-related duties, Maie still found time to compete in a horse show in her new home of Pinehurst, North Carolina. From the <i>New York Daily News</i> of April 24, 1920:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH_cF6KhpIY0AwIatV0bveemw5dOnpbtlUBTzMgvLABCka1rn239aBE4eDKSkQH_gN_FDSVI5eAbNX1Wc8OhF3nizQENJADUB5qRLvscnU5Al0A9YwfnmoWjx3MPtR-2-PvHdVFZmFJvLRvMDk9sflAfqgrrtnabRzqcu21w7r_bpYOpnnx09wjZI2bA/s557/1920%2024%20April%20NY%20Daily%20News.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="516" data-original-width="557" height="435" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH_cF6KhpIY0AwIatV0bveemw5dOnpbtlUBTzMgvLABCka1rn239aBE4eDKSkQH_gN_FDSVI5eAbNX1Wc8OhF3nizQENJADUB5qRLvscnU5Al0A9YwfnmoWjx3MPtR-2-PvHdVFZmFJvLRvMDk9sflAfqgrrtnabRzqcu21w7r_bpYOpnnx09wjZI2bA/w470-h435/1920%2024%20April%20NY%20Daily%20News.JPG" width="470" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I was not able to find either Leo Wanner nor Maie Wanner in the 1920 US Census, although it appears that Leo stayed in New York, while Maie was living in North Carolina.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1920 Maie Wanner was elected president of the Shepherd Dog Club of America. In 1921 her German Shepherd "Lotte" was chosen Grand Champion. This is from the <i>New York Daily News</i> of October 27, 1921:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_W7ocbn2Sh3H7ZqIbmUuE3W4sop1e-lmYp4eNJRrf77V2zv2x9uziuUZBJBENm-_LJLn-3OojgipmONsSvdMua4hsjsjaU9boQetHYf83Oip-VPPgudlWmLjRci-KpuI8UqzDyvyw7SgcIwIrVVC2zW4audiEakKo_5jq2NMc8BNUXPWxGi40LgLvw/s580/Lottie%201921.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="420" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_W7ocbn2Sh3H7ZqIbmUuE3W4sop1e-lmYp4eNJRrf77V2zv2x9uziuUZBJBENm-_LJLn-3OojgipmONsSvdMua4hsjsjaU9boQetHYf83Oip-VPPgudlWmLjRci-KpuI8UqzDyvyw7SgcIwIrVVC2zW4audiEakKo_5jq2NMc8BNUXPWxGi40LgLvw/w464-h640/Lottie%201921.JPG" width="464" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Lottie" was really "Lotte" and her full name was "Lotte von Edelweiss."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This is from the <i>Laverne (OK) Leader-Tribune</i> from March 3, 1922:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcIjloUS46FfTLOWcytcei760vWMK6QTynbFhQJ9aXWY1Py23UwOyk8gy7pF15v6gY5Gh_4JLcOAECvajRqVYH2a-ti313f84Velm0lCaeECQbJW46n26edOsf9j_m_CDRLdwmendM82EtntGPDr9A3OB8aiRVRvRgPVzVW386TpY6OHp7A8pX7vIBKw/s584/1922.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="584" data-original-width="419" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcIjloUS46FfTLOWcytcei760vWMK6QTynbFhQJ9aXWY1Py23UwOyk8gy7pF15v6gY5Gh_4JLcOAECvajRqVYH2a-ti313f84Velm0lCaeECQbJW46n26edOsf9j_m_CDRLdwmendM82EtntGPDr9A3OB8aiRVRvRgPVzVW386TpY6OHp7A8pX7vIBKw/w460-h640/1922.JPG" width="460" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This is the same as the photo at the start of this article.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I was unable to uncover any divorce records for Maie and Leo Wanner, but there must have been a divorce because in 1923 Maie Barnum Harris Wanner married Hiram Dana West (1874-1930) in Washoe, Nevada. The bride was 40, the groom was 49.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Hiram (sometimes spelled Hyrum) Dana West was born March 4, 1873 (some sources say 1874) in Nebraska to James P. West (1831-1905) and Mary Susan "Susie" Magoon (1849-1901). Hiram West was a Horseman by trade. He and Maie probably ran in the same "horsie" circles and may have been acquainted for some time. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">As of 1924 Maie was now being referred to in the press as "Mrs. H. Dana West." By late 1924 it was reported that Maie had sold her home in Pinehurst and had relocated (along with the Lewanno Kennels) to the Reno, Nevada area with her new husband.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">In the mid 1920s, Maie's name appeared in the newspapers mostly as a judge of German Shepherds at dog shows throughout the country. One paper reported in 1925 that "Mrs. H. Dana West of Reno, Nevada is conceded to be the one authority on this class of dogs (German Shepherds) in the country." </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">On October 28, 1925 the <i>Reno (NV) Evening Gazette-Journal</i> reported that Hiram and Maie purchased and would be moving into the 1800+ acre Big Canyon Ranch near Pyramid Lake, Nevada:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNuEoPKLZ4deE884EC1ux-qIyR2nYyO8C-uRHnUIwP1v8Ss6htaMOEiL_9HuLNQvZ6Wk2CcPuxlUY_C052Vd1ZsViPxZ3rPAhngS1i6Wtq3lSgix63JYr5pJgn2NWrOroVgdh72HG06nwrDnCsqk2QEGeCB8GKHAX3CtkZayAo3B9yuu5yaNDMTF3PUg/s373/28%20Oct%201925%20Reno%20Gazette.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="373" data-original-width="279" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNuEoPKLZ4deE884EC1ux-qIyR2nYyO8C-uRHnUIwP1v8Ss6htaMOEiL_9HuLNQvZ6Wk2CcPuxlUY_C052Vd1ZsViPxZ3rPAhngS1i6Wtq3lSgix63JYr5pJgn2NWrOroVgdh72HG06nwrDnCsqk2QEGeCB8GKHAX3CtkZayAo3B9yuu5yaNDMTF3PUg/w478-h640/28%20Oct%201925%20Reno%20Gazette.JPG" width="478" /></a></div><br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">In June of 1926 the same newspaper reported their housewarming:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji9Z4rXk6_r5Hdz7vVHybvM5Jr0atnjbqeuzpXt3yQ_bHDsx3lOgGGGDgVxqoXgponOPhL92lnwZbimyqjBho1lhUflUef3-FJaFVBVOIVYy4FN1U_8LrXnHN65ondbpO3HbE9utqS8f48zsrK5dFSMSqzDW44f7i6CWx6GYokiiZwSRs9DeiW0iaEQw/s332/14%20Jun%201926.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="287" data-original-width="332" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji9Z4rXk6_r5Hdz7vVHybvM5Jr0atnjbqeuzpXt3yQ_bHDsx3lOgGGGDgVxqoXgponOPhL92lnwZbimyqjBho1lhUflUef3-FJaFVBVOIVYy4FN1U_8LrXnHN65ondbpO3HbE9utqS8f48zsrK5dFSMSqzDW44f7i6CWx6GYokiiZwSRs9DeiW0iaEQw/w400-h346/14%20Jun%201926.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Even though she had a different husband, and had relocated across the country, Maie continued to breed and show prize-winning German Shepherds. From the <i>Reno (NV) Gazette-Journal </i>from April 8, 1926:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7fhv7qMKb45OhXlCwFX8iy-r2c_wERtADrNnQTKHJVQNyiyW1g5PjHUk_jPaG4JszbcyBM96QpZDCfw1cJ2s_yyVtlkMfl6-7ct9Ly8TfKqEZ2qYJYxLKFSVOXTy2bFVwi0U8mUnTRu3uDeCbYXQisxrDFHNrLfQZyK_sOqFvXA6otAQCxDz5qB6TmA/s592/08%20Apr%201926.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="592" data-original-width="257" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7fhv7qMKb45OhXlCwFX8iy-r2c_wERtADrNnQTKHJVQNyiyW1g5PjHUk_jPaG4JszbcyBM96QpZDCfw1cJ2s_yyVtlkMfl6-7ct9Ly8TfKqEZ2qYJYxLKFSVOXTy2bFVwi0U8mUnTRu3uDeCbYXQisxrDFHNrLfQZyK_sOqFvXA6otAQCxDz5qB6TmA/w278-h640/08%20Apr%201926.JPG" width="278" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">In between dog shows, Maie and her husband found time to entertain. From the <i>Reno (NV) Journal-Gazette</i> from January 13, 1927:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjortnJTezRHLlb6klV5_TbMEBZ-X-Zb9MXQ3CWPxoR9e55FFurK3a43va6XbmYBbEzSTMTOfoPQZ4up8fqHJ3vu8yYL-Qcq9KHxyJC9-M-xhecVImEAe56f_ClumGIr04G6nyuwTfCTX-V8XKCXo3ts2UM9Z8iuSrQ4bHBnHvjcMcOhyFi7k8Og1oE8w/s501/13%20Jan%201927.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="238" data-original-width="501" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjortnJTezRHLlb6klV5_TbMEBZ-X-Zb9MXQ3CWPxoR9e55FFurK3a43va6XbmYBbEzSTMTOfoPQZ4up8fqHJ3vu8yYL-Qcq9KHxyJC9-M-xhecVImEAe56f_ClumGIr04G6nyuwTfCTX-V8XKCXo3ts2UM9Z8iuSrQ4bHBnHvjcMcOhyFi7k8Og1oE8w/w400-h190/13%20Jan%201927.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">The Wests also kept showing their horses who continued to collect trophies whenever they competed. This is from the Reno paper on August 4, 1927:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6OQSQ8Zd_zC_59-QzdXDrR63AtKpIszhbDzt6WrcXjgkoE221j7mQbAxiYKt0_64poLTaPAgHd9oJOh8P-GzgkofdAxYo7785WyqCY2ZRKRh4hrxoXiyl-CxDyQkrhQWan05GTi1MSiULjs0ystI8muSLxOpq4_E42a18K65fpDQuPV5VNF1zSHYRA/s611/04%20Aug%201927.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="611" data-original-width="412" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6OQSQ8Zd_zC_59-QzdXDrR63AtKpIszhbDzt6WrcXjgkoE221j7mQbAxiYKt0_64poLTaPAgHd9oJOh8P-GzgkofdAxYo7785WyqCY2ZRKRh4hrxoXiyl-CxDyQkrhQWan05GTi1MSiULjs0ystI8muSLxOpq4_E42a18K65fpDQuPV5VNF1zSHYRA/w270-h400/04%20Aug%201927.JPG" width="270" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Maie West's name was a legend in the German Shepherd world. From the Reno paper from 08 Jan 1929:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoCzc4qvWGBvqjQbKDv43crXvL2OZwu65b2m6nPoK7trZLMGlJD2h0BA0R9u3Si_dfzAWPI14eZhvUzxRiy3R6SrbHWai6azb8c2-i8eRcUVlPswddn0V6_TNdN4Fnk4TwuED3IyA07udMCH5rWTVDPTCBArLtZLJ62CO2qPrygy4lWp9QjQt1PusXxw/s414/08%20Jan%201929.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="292" data-original-width="414" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoCzc4qvWGBvqjQbKDv43crXvL2OZwu65b2m6nPoK7trZLMGlJD2h0BA0R9u3Si_dfzAWPI14eZhvUzxRiy3R6SrbHWai6azb8c2-i8eRcUVlPswddn0V6_TNdN4Fnk4TwuED3IyA07udMCH5rWTVDPTCBArLtZLJ62CO2qPrygy4lWp9QjQt1PusXxw/w400-h283/08%20Jan%201929.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">An interesting story about Maie and Hiram West's son from the <i>Nevada State Journal</i> from August 23, 1929:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKy91yV4lMRDSmKgmMBdzAs23UYf1Jeb57gjgaXhppMk4xlaORTUDElCBnINmE17eZDGtgeWrIJ6GflVj-MPkLmHBH1IwfGJICT0LKdfKsWCiEgUv_vLNR0f45-zrAs3uLuQL_jAXJzleS5U-8kW7GZhuMhJ0Eh2zlLHlCYhWSBXVRtSxJAJN1dhHQXQ/s483/23%20Aug%201929.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="483" data-original-width="234" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKy91yV4lMRDSmKgmMBdzAs23UYf1Jeb57gjgaXhppMk4xlaORTUDElCBnINmE17eZDGtgeWrIJ6GflVj-MPkLmHBH1IwfGJICT0LKdfKsWCiEgUv_vLNR0f45-zrAs3uLuQL_jAXJzleS5U-8kW7GZhuMhJ0Eh2zlLHlCYhWSBXVRtSxJAJN1dhHQXQ/w310-h640/23%20Aug%201929.JPG" width="310" /></a></div><br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Good thing the dog was nearby...</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Hiram West's health began to deteriorate in 1929. Heart trouble kept him from traveling as he used to, and now the papers only mentioned Maie at the dog and horse shows, whereas in the past they had noted the presence of both Mr. and Mrs. West.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">The census taker for the 1930 US Census arrived at the Big Canyon Ranch on May 1, 1930. The census taker reported the following people as living at the ranch: Hiram West (56 years old), Maie (46) and Harry West (22). There was also a Cook, a Housekeeper, and seven Laborers. The business was "Cattle Ranch" Hiram was the "Proprietor," he owned the ranch, and they also had a radio. The others were a mix of native-born and immigrants, all could read, write and speak English.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Maie spent September of 1930 in the hospital recovering from major surgery. This is from the <i>Reno (NV) Gazette-Journal</i> of September 5, 1930:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhYfxdme5OQqIi0sBEKHi5Jg6w4FmOOz5ft8yqApLozpXEu_dg3S4-2ogBY-OJp_uP4BjiE2By3Q08fVQVRqjnQeGZ_dV8wPMLPtB13MkbA7jHuyivlBVppL6HNzLZmMg09MLjVN47O2cPRGdTUpqDme38_t_qcDXlcNZWH7Q3PKBKlcHNKlKzbIgwEQ/s248/Surgery.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="152" data-original-width="248" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhYfxdme5OQqIi0sBEKHi5Jg6w4FmOOz5ft8yqApLozpXEu_dg3S4-2ogBY-OJp_uP4BjiE2By3Q08fVQVRqjnQeGZ_dV8wPMLPtB13MkbA7jHuyivlBVppL6HNzLZmMg09MLjVN47O2cPRGdTUpqDme38_t_qcDXlcNZWH7Q3PKBKlcHNKlKzbIgwEQ/w400-h245/Surgery.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Hiram Dana West died from heart disease on October 4, 1930 at the ranch. He was fifty-seven years old. Here is his Death Certificate:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLKf9syEAD6rNwyqNQGrwFFXXOJi2VskB3H4fx3a1muASrUjqDzevaQhsNdg5fKhidf5q-pDaaAmt-V-seGgyno4MZJNAZw4EXGLsWf5G5ZAwGcN8QzsH4qf18xIy3Uiqm1GlEOqUqd9pfzJDYHxYg-z_ETX1su5XPpymzAh6DRNkTxI-fYp_-PrKbSA/s3656/45339_302022005549_0125-00180.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3408" data-original-width="3656" height="596" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLKf9syEAD6rNwyqNQGrwFFXXOJi2VskB3H4fx3a1muASrUjqDzevaQhsNdg5fKhidf5q-pDaaAmt-V-seGgyno4MZJNAZw4EXGLsWf5G5ZAwGcN8QzsH4qf18xIy3Uiqm1GlEOqUqd9pfzJDYHxYg-z_ETX1su5XPpymzAh6DRNkTxI-fYp_-PrKbSA/w640-h596/45339_302022005549_0125-00180.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">His passing was announced in the <i>Reno (NV) Journal-Gazette</i> on October 6, 1930:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhmqZDFL7uyQr5v_i-SBnArMqmKUTKg5aWzZFWStFxUnn0ANpU1eh9eXxSB1t5lpRLSLbrduKxG-PGISQrromgHM2gkXWU5n3fJUUYcesbDI-DvyFwqaN3nI_DgahpDqKOJ6SsN0bLkKgZOP0X8DybjJW6BaYPq3sf9WFCFuXzr7rg2aM6zMTGMTm3vA/s694/West%20Death.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="694" data-original-width="244" height="856" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhmqZDFL7uyQr5v_i-SBnArMqmKUTKg5aWzZFWStFxUnn0ANpU1eh9eXxSB1t5lpRLSLbrduKxG-PGISQrromgHM2gkXWU5n3fJUUYcesbDI-DvyFwqaN3nI_DgahpDqKOJ6SsN0bLkKgZOP0X8DybjJW6BaYPq3sf9WFCFuXzr7rg2aM6zMTGMTm3vA/w302-h856/West%20Death.JPG" width="302" /></a></div><br /> Here is his Death Notice from the same newspaper:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp2bD4o3wOl1AneOP9RjNpcYpkfdeejNaPxLQQsWR5jqe4UTYfIkT71VhisngXQ_wW3Y634S-6eIW72DNjhN96heIomJHJHHTObkUAmZRdISLYAx9-FX_gxrnB-6KvfoIw37HJ9264ZpEh00lVSKGxxxK6Cfnl9xTWS0VjKQ1lUaaw--1OZqrDu4bujg/s323/West%20Death%20Notice%2006%20Oct%201930.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="323" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp2bD4o3wOl1AneOP9RjNpcYpkfdeejNaPxLQQsWR5jqe4UTYfIkT71VhisngXQ_wW3Y634S-6eIW72DNjhN96heIomJHJHHTObkUAmZRdISLYAx9-FX_gxrnB-6KvfoIw37HJ9264ZpEh00lVSKGxxxK6Cfnl9xTWS0VjKQ1lUaaw--1OZqrDu4bujg/s320/West%20Death%20Notice%2006%20Oct%201930.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">West's "Cowboy Funeral" was written up in newspapers all over the country. This is from the <i>Tacoma (WA) Daily Ledger</i> from October 9, 1930:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz7Wb53JHEV2niUBhP8KrJTgo2iIPhD_VvNVNGlk7nTXzTRdiVmZXaKBI5-HOaiWIMBXc2K_26beP86CLevtIIOzMhMu6HqggMjZtfSWmRPELlPluXLXL2BwCC0tpy8lq0d-ScL0EZIWJAr65A2xouCbjdrmMoZy63WXRtME0CW53tPcXFuTvfixHTDQ/s781/Cowboy%20funeral.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="285" data-original-width="781" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz7Wb53JHEV2niUBhP8KrJTgo2iIPhD_VvNVNGlk7nTXzTRdiVmZXaKBI5-HOaiWIMBXc2K_26beP86CLevtIIOzMhMu6HqggMjZtfSWmRPELlPluXLXL2BwCC0tpy8lq0d-ScL0EZIWJAr65A2xouCbjdrmMoZy63WXRtME0CW53tPcXFuTvfixHTDQ/w644-h235/Cowboy%20funeral.JPG" width="644" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Hiram West's will left everything to his widow Maie - nothing to his son or his two daughters. As you can imagine, this caused some problems down the road. This is from the <i>Reno (NV) Gazette-Journal </i>of October 15, 1930:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkLRvSaUm1Jor4Ttey41fpP4E8FUKEhcnmy2J9qHApyC0NMO8_3Cg-cl8gNkZeOdQuGz5KmN7CX7qr40iYpmIVpuMj2oHBp0T8LS_tJdIglDU_jCqUr-MUg7I9fqrHGEOxSSegbCoOANrPhzIwwmsVHjy5ONfKrkVlZebxtCkYGF48_pbLv8SHnZyAug/s693/Probate.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="693" data-original-width="481" height="451" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkLRvSaUm1Jor4Ttey41fpP4E8FUKEhcnmy2J9qHApyC0NMO8_3Cg-cl8gNkZeOdQuGz5KmN7CX7qr40iYpmIVpuMj2oHBp0T8LS_tJdIglDU_jCqUr-MUg7I9fqrHGEOxSSegbCoOANrPhzIwwmsVHjy5ONfKrkVlZebxtCkYGF48_pbLv8SHnZyAug/w314-h451/Probate.JPG" width="314" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As he requested, Hiram West's ashes were scattered at the top of Tule Mountain as indicated in the <i>Reno (NV) Journal-Gazette</i> from November 10, 1930:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKOycrvjQbE7cuP6Zg0YayBKej8GMgl-aF0OxuLe0UhhcoQzJKie76wy4mHI2PtOi__p-cwFZsGEuFx23Gc6LO3Qg7nYpaxm2BKyf3r6qgwdZ8gdafZKHaLyvQqHnI4hRjRDNwmCLkwz39RI8bgXOdcUgJgN76roRgfXtB88fT_vsp_ecvKSq_feWREw/s384/Mountain%20Top.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="249" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKOycrvjQbE7cuP6Zg0YayBKej8GMgl-aF0OxuLe0UhhcoQzJKie76wy4mHI2PtOi__p-cwFZsGEuFx23Gc6LO3Qg7nYpaxm2BKyf3r6qgwdZ8gdafZKHaLyvQqHnI4hRjRDNwmCLkwz39RI8bgXOdcUgJgN76roRgfXtB88fT_vsp_ecvKSq_feWREw/w416-h640/Mountain%20Top.JPG" width="416" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">By May of 1931, Maie had recovered sufficiently to resume her duties as Judge of German Shepherd dog shows. This is from the <i>Reno (NV) Gazette-Journal</i> of May 23, 1931:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK_F6sfbhFkGaH1xgarW6oFWBB65-uxq-E4vy_APlAS4noP9SqBjIgn4wFksayfVYYzEscEQVqOA5f6LFXxImWCwSb-sHtb5dxgwofmouZOMeoVkPQliuew7UZtY0r1DV_Z-GBPxFbAGYovU03RIt442tZlSRuWRRQbQ83Z7PHjvhXd19o3xBMAWNyOw/s406/Judge.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="353" data-original-width="406" height="329" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK_F6sfbhFkGaH1xgarW6oFWBB65-uxq-E4vy_APlAS4noP9SqBjIgn4wFksayfVYYzEscEQVqOA5f6LFXxImWCwSb-sHtb5dxgwofmouZOMeoVkPQliuew7UZtY0r1DV_Z-GBPxFbAGYovU03RIt442tZlSRuWRRQbQ83Z7PHjvhXd19o3xBMAWNyOw/w379-h329/Judge.JPG" width="379" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Maie's mother, Mary Richmond Taylor Barnum died of heart disease on June 29, 1931. She was eighty-two years old and had been living with Maie in Nevada. Here is her Death Notice from the <i>Nevada State Journal</i> of July 1, 1931:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXCD8HFRkcWWhiX0X4hf1Ava3Qs9DkEvAYo59zK4okW2xDLUTjrVLCR05AiX86NUFy2AJENcvmhox3uLr26oIZyYYxXv-vYVXuoys_zcPQZa4oKB-atbZ93N2WqtSYXKfzcUhd51cEfwmUxjy8GDqDV499HEGyFB_IrlZL7MEDWMOibIoJAIKK2wk9A/s323/Mary%20Barnum%20Death%20Notice.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="262" data-original-width="323" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXCD8HFRkcWWhiX0X4hf1Ava3Qs9DkEvAYo59zK4okW2xDLUTjrVLCR05AiX86NUFy2AJENcvmhox3uLr26oIZyYYxXv-vYVXuoys_zcPQZa4oKB-atbZ93N2WqtSYXKfzcUhd51cEfwmUxjy8GDqDV499HEGyFB_IrlZL7MEDWMOibIoJAIKK2wk9A/w400-h325/Mary%20Barnum%20Death%20Notice.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and from the <i>Reno (NV) Gazette-Journal</i>, also from July 1, 1931:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbitCrmqV-YwBiLkMV1EN0GQvDaXNNiyHXxz1f502fzWkp0V8Z6gbUYp8Ok0AfVvN7HQmvOw0FhEz04vfKKZoNXAu_J40tfDbmXN5R_2KH9bgvhW4Lnk7sxF1twAO082zltLmdThgfxfV-zPsbG2_OyZ0_vXJHwNx4FNeLOjLkj7R1za68YTaqmYR-LA/s408/Mother%20Death%20announcement.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="265" data-original-width="408" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbitCrmqV-YwBiLkMV1EN0GQvDaXNNiyHXxz1f502fzWkp0V8Z6gbUYp8Ok0AfVvN7HQmvOw0FhEz04vfKKZoNXAu_J40tfDbmXN5R_2KH9bgvhW4Lnk7sxF1twAO082zltLmdThgfxfV-zPsbG2_OyZ0_vXJHwNx4FNeLOjLkj7R1za68YTaqmYR-LA/w582-h378/Mother%20Death%20announcement.JPG" width="582" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here is her Death Certificate:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMr95Xcy7mc7r_wjISxVt-mGZGi8ZR62g38FDyvMPuxnIwmHVZTH1lPpZxlVcXVOscc-1F8YlFG3UZLI6JwxpyH1oREnlLrj59IQhOG3SiXEXudIxuYXZJFgb98UTgb-AL0Sd68lwsLVpyNWEZPfkhv-mYvueX-oIJuEH35L-HFBdLG4K-0Mjv_WcxTw/s4060/Barnum,%20Mary%20Death%20Cert.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3840" data-original-width="4060" height="606" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMr95Xcy7mc7r_wjISxVt-mGZGi8ZR62g38FDyvMPuxnIwmHVZTH1lPpZxlVcXVOscc-1F8YlFG3UZLI6JwxpyH1oREnlLrj59IQhOG3SiXEXudIxuYXZJFgb98UTgb-AL0Sd68lwsLVpyNWEZPfkhv-mYvueX-oIJuEH35L-HFBdLG4K-0Mjv_WcxTw/w640-h606/Barnum,%20Mary%20Death%20Cert.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was determined that Mary Barnum's remains would be shipped back to New York for burial. She is interred with her husband Joshua in the Greenfield Cemetery in Uniondale, New York. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFN52JmYMaDxNOJqZYBpEGHNl8nmEy8S6Tog_Yz7K5zt_HFjOo0FeGNvQ2ndI8fStPynnY7dAKuD-bVrTvb7aAPlFvoTS39wxYOKRhlZqlzmjRKQjfXoT2y9r8ZoNaTr9TtzrRWAIpEGu62DM7iIpFI_Z6hwexl1ZJrZxHJmJ-2fUgp1j0mpKBzr1ySw/s510/Barnum%20Monument%20-%20front.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="510" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFN52JmYMaDxNOJqZYBpEGHNl8nmEy8S6Tog_Yz7K5zt_HFjOo0FeGNvQ2ndI8fStPynnY7dAKuD-bVrTvb7aAPlFvoTS39wxYOKRhlZqlzmjRKQjfXoT2y9r8ZoNaTr9TtzrRWAIpEGu62DM7iIpFI_Z6hwexl1ZJrZxHJmJ-2fUgp1j0mpKBzr1ySw/s320/Barnum%20Monument%20-%20front.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY_YIdYoknsko5wBgkPfApqtvEPYL8ScyWovvF07F3TyjqJ03lSsP_yg6h9GeDzrxWStaxq22V4aOc4npo0svdlv-Yz3AjdGWTK8iafedDCU3hK48XDwP1pYqQ3CjfafAGvNZ2KPuyJ8wzgoKC2jRDzrotFxr-RtooLgV3xaHNeIl5dX10fLAUL196YQ/s588/Barnum,%20Mary%20Grave.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="588" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY_YIdYoknsko5wBgkPfApqtvEPYL8ScyWovvF07F3TyjqJ03lSsP_yg6h9GeDzrxWStaxq22V4aOc4npo0svdlv-Yz3AjdGWTK8iafedDCU3hK48XDwP1pYqQ3CjfafAGvNZ2KPuyJ8wzgoKC2jRDzrotFxr-RtooLgV3xaHNeIl5dX10fLAUL196YQ/w326-h400/Barnum,%20Mary%20Grave.jpg" width="326" /></a></div><br /> </div><span style="font-size: medium;">But wait, there's more - surprisingly, Maie (Sara) Barnum Harris Wanner West died just five days after her mother, on July 3, 1931 in Nevada. The cause of Maie's death was pellagra, with colitis as a contributing factor. Maie was fifty-seven years old. Here is her Death Certificate:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbWG7xO4DwMAkncVdSzqARFKTjCW7G8AzpJPtPUIX0PQTmVjtP58_b5suZUfUrsRifBB7P0SLLiJqjJJ46fe2dmml1VAPSvMCZxDmpY9kl5drGSY-ISYaDFgh68oiaGB61hK_TAMsCffZ3ogAlJ3bexM5uzgYGnMkle7CwD-wZid5UWy7F6KwCPoil1Q/s4056/45339_302022005549_0127-00280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3824" data-original-width="4056" height="604" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbWG7xO4DwMAkncVdSzqARFKTjCW7G8AzpJPtPUIX0PQTmVjtP58_b5suZUfUrsRifBB7P0SLLiJqjJJ46fe2dmml1VAPSvMCZxDmpY9kl5drGSY-ISYaDFgh68oiaGB61hK_TAMsCffZ3ogAlJ3bexM5uzgYGnMkle7CwD-wZid5UWy7F6KwCPoil1Q/w640-h604/45339_302022005549_0127-00280.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Pellagra is a disease caused by a lack of the vitamin niacin. Symptoms include inflamed skin, diarrhea, dementia, and sores in the mouth. Areas of the skin exposed to either sunlight or friction are typically affected first. Over time affected skin may become darker, stiffen, peel, or bleed.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />Maie's Death Certificate says that her body was sent to Oakland, California for cremation. I'm surprised there wasn't a crematorium in Reno or someplace in Nevada closer than Oakland, California. Of course Maie's death was big news in Nevada. This is from the <i>Reno (NV) Gazette-Journal</i> of July 3, 1931:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8yrDDl13QV8bP0GKTeKhgrczF3OaTEHV64mzNZiVvbDlP3OJYjK-8njBzomBAdF5fZnLcisSJCjt5bWDhcnEpXIRFHQZerY6Nv1ZSKB7WrF8opioW4hgPa3pcRyyqhInMfnNiicOvFyoBA_EoWJ1HR_8HRFUrhT3uB9QnUTiTQgYneMozZHu5uveAw/s573/Maie%20Obit.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="573" data-original-width="323" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8yrDDl13QV8bP0GKTeKhgrczF3OaTEHV64mzNZiVvbDlP3OJYjK-8njBzomBAdF5fZnLcisSJCjt5bWDhcnEpXIRFHQZerY6Nv1ZSKB7WrF8opioW4hgPa3pcRyyqhInMfnNiicOvFyoBA_EoWJ1HR_8HRFUrhT3uB9QnUTiTQgYneMozZHu5uveAw/w360-h640/Maie%20Obit.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here are the announcements of her funeral from the <i>Nevada State Journal</i> of July 6, 1931:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-sqUuS62AMjKZ-BcyFxyyQbnbf8rTPZ3QH6C97bGmqISWviJ9vi48HD15ZvKByRw99_NGdJH8SLSO0dlIV8rlJenrvkhDNgx800-8Bedn4X5OeUvxYhNWLWcVzcONM-aC1Vb5bVRl4jvz-1FJ6SBojpj9Jl-zaUgIX9bblz5lDHA_tO7zBxe7A_BZdw/s262/West%20Funeral-1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="100" data-original-width="262" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-sqUuS62AMjKZ-BcyFxyyQbnbf8rTPZ3QH6C97bGmqISWviJ9vi48HD15ZvKByRw99_NGdJH8SLSO0dlIV8rlJenrvkhDNgx800-8Bedn4X5OeUvxYhNWLWcVzcONM-aC1Vb5bVRl4jvz-1FJ6SBojpj9Jl-zaUgIX9bblz5lDHA_tO7zBxe7A_BZdw/w400-h153/West%20Funeral-1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2xnuVrD30z1IHh8qynAzDzbt-7lwzwXS_XzzX4LaWm5_tjn-GG9tks7RkvX1-0mQz8x3ONgjVde2GwbuzJ8NoR_5zxZD7FKHMpfal5vikzwNHEq2VcF0quhsTtIFwZKxncf8NmTF_-m3EA9IMISJLbKKkIyez5ZWqUP8aAxIpAIlTnVNmpRSEg2CFDw/s264/West%20Funeral-2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="264" data-original-width="262" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2xnuVrD30z1IHh8qynAzDzbt-7lwzwXS_XzzX4LaWm5_tjn-GG9tks7RkvX1-0mQz8x3ONgjVde2GwbuzJ8NoR_5zxZD7FKHMpfal5vikzwNHEq2VcF0quhsTtIFwZKxncf8NmTF_-m3EA9IMISJLbKKkIyez5ZWqUP8aAxIpAIlTnVNmpRSEg2CFDw/w397-h400/West%20Funeral-2.JPG" width="397" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">From the same newspaper the next day, July 7, 1931:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJfLy2TCmQzZjw1iCjUmU1HX7CbqjT_1XCbBsLNdkXrGcwyUheuvN32GtsmEdMMmsDDLV-Y1mTbnIEcis_QEV54Aahf4hhlJLGMsg8G33IIhVvefccVezb_FIuIXrGt0FGKJZWpSCgWV4MGAKqNPOqcv_gUPjoPubJVFKmRMgzdgKNiV4HwDl83oiUg/s463/West%20Buried.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="463" data-original-width="322" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJfLy2TCmQzZjw1iCjUmU1HX7CbqjT_1XCbBsLNdkXrGcwyUheuvN32GtsmEdMMmsDDLV-Y1mTbnIEcis_QEV54Aahf4hhlJLGMsg8G33IIhVvefccVezb_FIuIXrGt0FGKJZWpSCgWV4MGAKqNPOqcv_gUPjoPubJVFKmRMgzdgKNiV4HwDl83oiUg/w279-h400/West%20Buried.JPG" width="279" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">As indicated, Maie was interred in the family plot in Greenfield Cemetery in Uniondale, New York:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPNpP04LpA3Zu3Xoa1xd97ygzBjNRKL5LeYoLn7235DfNc5ZpdwHfMt5tMhLZc0iGGJ8K00cPG8vQg_lVIacmzIJl4VBm6uuv7Hn8eyDAgBb0kEiYZeCuQ2_afAzdFFlLGImbxG9Y2WQQ-2EGb0pBY8zDIojOAFSLayNZ7jEqsrRmsC2kxTU2Vy0tkQ/s4032/Barnum%20plot.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPNpP04LpA3Zu3Xoa1xd97ygzBjNRKL5LeYoLn7235DfNc5ZpdwHfMt5tMhLZc0iGGJ8K00cPG8vQg_lVIacmzIJl4VBm6uuv7Hn8eyDAgBb0kEiYZeCuQ2_afAzdFFlLGImbxG9Y2WQQ-2EGb0pBY8zDIojOAFSLayNZ7jEqsrRmsC2kxTU2Vy0tkQ/w400-h300/Barnum%20plot.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH5ZMfAb6hglJV15DTC_AFpVJanv6sI3jxheoYZ4XGaeTeKhr4XG2KPFmxkNS3yqzZcc8hjKeq5RlcQItkFnK5fc2NnDbZTIZPv4mjkVJ9NsnVhYsCAluwwjMvo78vnfr2nFRhinzbCVY5ZfxvKzwFfHQQqlcGIC-TXIoN2maEQCtr8Jkn9lyHClmO2A/s510/Barnum%20Monument%20-%20front.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="510" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH5ZMfAb6hglJV15DTC_AFpVJanv6sI3jxheoYZ4XGaeTeKhr4XG2KPFmxkNS3yqzZcc8hjKeq5RlcQItkFnK5fc2NnDbZTIZPv4mjkVJ9NsnVhYsCAluwwjMvo78vnfr2nFRhinzbCVY5ZfxvKzwFfHQQqlcGIC-TXIoN2maEQCtr8Jkn9lyHClmO2A/w400-h376/Barnum%20Monument%20-%20front.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTTNF3jRKPtoI_GqFHu_EPiRoZFliNHyPasn0WzBPJE7QXUQGX6WW5gTmjzoU5tTL1Qb07oa61ZiYjDdijm5BIbxJrK7Rf9ZBLwiiWMoESVq6poJrBdLhwB924T1h_of2sc1AFxM2ivZb4ATreqHGtZ74LV5v1MxQSrH7eMyTgPohkzr2iXwpJSIZdmQ/s588/Barnum%20Monument%20-%20Side.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="588" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTTNF3jRKPtoI_GqFHu_EPiRoZFliNHyPasn0WzBPJE7QXUQGX6WW5gTmjzoU5tTL1Qb07oa61ZiYjDdijm5BIbxJrK7Rf9ZBLwiiWMoESVq6poJrBdLhwB924T1h_of2sc1AFxM2ivZb4ATreqHGtZ74LV5v1MxQSrH7eMyTgPohkzr2iXwpJSIZdmQ/w326-h400/Barnum%20Monument%20-%20Side.jpg" width="326" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggP-ZID9Tkf1nDY8fian01n1gjiYHaf1tgfvaOeE4r7MiOBKtm6lLIaYOBjMejz6hNuaBgMLr7rvdsVEKDSdIGMvL4e7V_dzWcNTq7K5qd5MjBrfMg2_vep2CkYuNwIncT5JP8DIbFAuzQcudzdNH442FbdLKAxzwkKIeY-9kjmBvEgn_4A2cGVAY8gg/s485/Maie%20Tombstone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="272" data-original-width="485" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggP-ZID9Tkf1nDY8fian01n1gjiYHaf1tgfvaOeE4r7MiOBKtm6lLIaYOBjMejz6hNuaBgMLr7rvdsVEKDSdIGMvL4e7V_dzWcNTq7K5qd5MjBrfMg2_vep2CkYuNwIncT5JP8DIbFAuzQcudzdNH442FbdLKAxzwkKIeY-9kjmBvEgn_4A2cGVAY8gg/s320/Maie%20Tombstone.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">The story of Maie West does not end with her burial. Whenever this is money involved, people come out of the woodwork and that's what happened here.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You may remember that when Hiram West died in November of 1930, his will left all of his estate to his widow Maie, effectively disinheriting his children. The assets of his estate included the 1,800 acre "Circle S" Ranch, the Little Valley pastureland ranch, and personal property. The estate had a stated value of $15,000 in 1930 ($275,000 today). It is well known that probate values are kept low to minimize inheritance tax liability, so we can guess the estate was worth substantially more. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When Maie died in July of 1931, just six months after Hiram, her estate was valued at $100,000 (almost $2 million today). Maie had left everything to her mother, who had predeceased her by five days. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Maie's will was filed for probate on August 1, 1931, as reported by the <i>New York Times</i> on August 2, 1931:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><i>NEW YORKERS ARE HEIRS.</i></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Five Easterners Share Estate of Marie Barnum West.</i></span></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Special to The New York Times</i></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>RENO, Nev., Aug. 1 - Petition for probate of the will of Maie Richmond Barnum West was filed here today. It leaves her estate of $100,000 or more to her mother, Mary Richmond Barnum, who died five days before Mrs. West passed away.</i></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>As the mother is dead, the legal heirs are Sarah L. Taylor of 135 West Twenty-fourth Street, New York City; Josephine T. Colt of 385 Chariton Avenue, South Orange, N. J.; Kate V. Barnum of 1035 Fifth Avenue, New York City, aunts; Elizabeth T. Russell of 130 East Sixty-seventh Street, New York City, and Dorothy T. Gutterson of Southport, Conn., cousins.</i></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">And also mentioned in the <i>Reno (NV) Gazette-Journal</i> of the same date:</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxe4ILDFo8aRBnDF7XN9FBi93l2rzxF_IEgzhPXLgH-2ujLOfmx51sEq8aYIxATfHL3wkb_X3MX6up5PDsAEdbA7MtOZtpI2uX0PoknVV5f4P_uEVjMVu7tI4ZCytDkfUmXScRTTIpHcsU9a-nJCeR9Wa723CUi04ddVdBOgRRP562dyDoFtpds-g0ig/s2678/Reno_Gazette_Journal_1931_08_01_Page_12.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2678" data-original-width="754" height="1193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxe4ILDFo8aRBnDF7XN9FBi93l2rzxF_IEgzhPXLgH-2ujLOfmx51sEq8aYIxATfHL3wkb_X3MX6up5PDsAEdbA7MtOZtpI2uX0PoknVV5f4P_uEVjMVu7tI4ZCytDkfUmXScRTTIpHcsU9a-nJCeR9Wa723CUi04ddVdBOgRRP562dyDoFtpds-g0ig/w336-h1193/Reno_Gazette_Journal_1931_08_01_Page_12.jpg" width="336" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Eleven days later, on August 12, 1931, Hiram West's heirs filed their suit contesting the will as reported in the <i>Reno (NV) Gazette-Journal </i>of that date:</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqgEy8n6JNE8KNu8nj3C5Y8OzV5GYMhmZTAgJM4bkrAg7S-FWk4b5QTD-Aq_M5LzKFkgN3wMt7F9ShNAjIskxkXlTS7i0Z3i5NfEA0iz0ddfi-wRUfcalbwh_n-5trh3r0fuHkxG92MPeQszkfNL8Gr_UcibKXAYUVRg7iiGjF4J77AeJiFcJu4ofIg/s2929/Reno_Gazette_Journal_1931_08_12_Page_12.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2929" data-original-width="759" height="1253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqgEy8n6JNE8KNu8nj3C5Y8OzV5GYMhmZTAgJM4bkrAg7S-FWk4b5QTD-Aq_M5LzKFkgN3wMt7F9ShNAjIskxkXlTS7i0Z3i5NfEA0iz0ddfi-wRUfcalbwh_n-5trh3r0fuHkxG92MPeQszkfNL8Gr_UcibKXAYUVRg7iiGjF4J77AeJiFcJu4ofIg/w325-h1253/Reno_Gazette_Journal_1931_08_12_Page_12.jpg" width="325" /></a></div><br />By the end of 1931, Hiram West's heirs withdrew their suit, although they reserved the right to refile if necessary as reported in the <i>Reno (NV) Gazette-Journal</i> of December 29, 1931:</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZwQcOA5h8B4fTP1WheNc4gOPLAYt0YxDjD4ewqRYe72UjQKmndoDcOfovZ_3gFmT_wQkPPOyAoofylh8qSyZ7NAdROS-wVDjRWAsuoa28plwSt32JZrzhpoQpMRBkpIXknIZsk_vpjN0RzDXUAV7H5QMB7nmxBxPBTK7WIrefEJLxuwNKpj9NAvscBA/s2204/Reno_Gazette_Journal_1931_12_29_Page_12.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2204" data-original-width="733" height="957" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZwQcOA5h8B4fTP1WheNc4gOPLAYt0YxDjD4ewqRYe72UjQKmndoDcOfovZ_3gFmT_wQkPPOyAoofylh8qSyZ7NAdROS-wVDjRWAsuoa28plwSt32JZrzhpoQpMRBkpIXknIZsk_vpjN0RzDXUAV7H5QMB7nmxBxPBTK7WIrefEJLxuwNKpj9NAvscBA/w317-h957/Reno_Gazette_Journal_1931_12_29_Page_12.jpg" width="317" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">I would guess that some sort of out-of-court agreement was reached by the parties, but the matters were not finally resolved until January of 1940 as reported by the Reno paper on January 31, 1940:</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh1Lc29zHd4P2eD4MBdg8AUEX8SaRLfOpcjn4BBw5yO7_D9dOz4x6Eii_eISlmZ7ygNo2UjarI_olDFpOTKkDqUGrsCN6BEtjRHkTSWTvHjAA2ICAPMmH18N6WLMYzZXeBzccUoLFYSID1C_8IUy4n0321U_XBg6V4w4dlYpoS-dLUTI5I0Ju_FxuTsw/s3300/Reno_Gazette_Journal_1940_01_31_Page_16.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="732" height="1456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh1Lc29zHd4P2eD4MBdg8AUEX8SaRLfOpcjn4BBw5yO7_D9dOz4x6Eii_eISlmZ7ygNo2UjarI_olDFpOTKkDqUGrsCN6BEtjRHkTSWTvHjAA2ICAPMmH18N6WLMYzZXeBzccUoLFYSID1C_8IUy4n0321U_XBg6V4w4dlYpoS-dLUTI5I0Ju_FxuTsw/w323-h1456/Reno_Gazette_Journal_1940_01_31_Page_16.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><br /><div><span style="font-size: medium;">The rich really are different, and the lawyers are often the only financial winners in the long run. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">May Maie (Sara) Barnum Harris Wanner West, the first female trainer of German Shepherd dogs, rest in peace.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuBPU2QTtLn2eMel1Gz4eHtSEaWC6UJKQeqbNtENJVeTFDwntucjuKHCas-7n2P2NYVGWjrJlIscTu6LBMUWmRXcjWF-Mac3Q8oKcedKKropE2Na5XkHFul8zX9n4jHyH8VGGBRI9PKORCtZraDiEXPszYU-Ayzk8Pwu9NrcnSL-Zgrwgo-91XJ4k6rQ/s695/Maie%20with%20Filax%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="695" data-original-width="436" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuBPU2QTtLn2eMel1Gz4eHtSEaWC6UJKQeqbNtENJVeTFDwntucjuKHCas-7n2P2NYVGWjrJlIscTu6LBMUWmRXcjWF-Mac3Q8oKcedKKropE2Na5XkHFul8zX9n4jHyH8VGGBRI9PKORCtZraDiEXPszYU-Ayzk8Pwu9NrcnSL-Zgrwgo-91XJ4k6rQ/w402-h640/Maie%20with%20Filax%20(2).jpg" width="402" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maie with Filax</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-53447605802532660112023-05-01T04:51:00.000-07:002023-05-01T04:51:27.051-07:00HER MENUS WERE HER LIFE - Frank Editha Buttolph<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsj9HyIEKThotK4ngxVZs3FBoRTp_zAZM1JMC1EFccnGg9jASWVK0ZBOs2wtzEMcWDF3YoqAyT4Bk4cDYWqaW4evqwHHB3MivfiYKg874ZaIjTTH-ro7qcSNo90Y9d6UBCYT9rwogan8msFPKMxovL-0eMNgKz2BupbHYVqxa6IvHfTqaMnbeS7ouHvA/s300/Frank%20E.%20Buttolph.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsj9HyIEKThotK4ngxVZs3FBoRTp_zAZM1JMC1EFccnGg9jASWVK0ZBOs2wtzEMcWDF3YoqAyT4Bk4cDYWqaW4evqwHHB3MivfiYKg874ZaIjTTH-ro7qcSNo90Y9d6UBCYT9rwogan8msFPKMxovL-0eMNgKz2BupbHYVqxa6IvHfTqaMnbeS7ouHvA/s16000/Frank%20E.%20Buttolph.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Years ago I started collecting menus from some of my favorite restaurants. Now they adorn the walls of my guest bathroom. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCiN2cBrUaWjYqUFTLU5a2vSkfT0CNza-XbVWSUy6ekzh1WjhCAx4KmlYWlEcVF4TxdJkoSNLHQgjxr4SyPobMM3SGX_l9tP7UPcLjGP91-QDrSPNcOHn3w_mBsI7BiIRS3FGKgnAJeYn-cId8vuPwT8BX-aq6wyNVeZb5coNsfKYCleMbBtYOVzTwzA/s4032/0411230916_HDR.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCiN2cBrUaWjYqUFTLU5a2vSkfT0CNza-XbVWSUy6ekzh1WjhCAx4KmlYWlEcVF4TxdJkoSNLHQgjxr4SyPobMM3SGX_l9tP7UPcLjGP91-QDrSPNcOHn3w_mBsI7BiIRS3FGKgnAJeYn-cId8vuPwT8BX-aq6wyNVeZb5coNsfKYCleMbBtYOVzTwzA/w640-h480/0411230916_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH-Htm2vdYTw_wylZVPzGyEx4k9WbOiptUkFUkh5d3Bu5kqRTbqOi2_dVVR4obYY9Cg8Nz6qh7_fIIvyvl5B30pdOIQAYPii83OSyW9Y6l8xI5eSsxF8ShdUbACjK6zz9AKFZSvCmvmvoeSyQxwBRrtKst_Mbyj6LbgVzzbdIqXFSHALUtVHy1Hq_UAQ/s4032/0411230917_HDR.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH-Htm2vdYTw_wylZVPzGyEx4k9WbOiptUkFUkh5d3Bu5kqRTbqOi2_dVVR4obYY9Cg8Nz6qh7_fIIvyvl5B30pdOIQAYPii83OSyW9Y6l8xI5eSsxF8ShdUbACjK6zz9AKFZSvCmvmvoeSyQxwBRrtKst_Mbyj6LbgVzzbdIqXFSHALUtVHy1Hq_UAQ/w640-h480/0411230917_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Menus give us an interesting snapshot of what life was like when a particular menu was in use. When looking at old menus people often focus on the prices but menus also tell us what made up a typical meal as well as the sometimes exotic foods that were offered. For example, a menu in my collection from the Hotel Del Coronado for Easter 1907 offered Broiled Barracuda as one of the entrees: </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3UT23ZvsAoWPX3M1L2EhwcYKa31s8s2up7Mo0sv0i6bpQd6oGxQhEiLaxkceDUsvTxpTErltSUspmKII6iFFbSzCQ4eqxH8qkTXfXtJptLb_VSJurUg28NfDBBywM3RVnqPXcJiIhOpbz5BxxpWTAAsObBoOr9_LwB55ckIkcepebylICCapvGfEGRQ/s2709/Easter%201907-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2709" data-original-width="1806" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3UT23ZvsAoWPX3M1L2EhwcYKa31s8s2up7Mo0sv0i6bpQd6oGxQhEiLaxkceDUsvTxpTErltSUspmKII6iFFbSzCQ4eqxH8qkTXfXtJptLb_VSJurUg28NfDBBywM3RVnqPXcJiIhOpbz5BxxpWTAAsObBoOr9_LwB55ckIkcepebylICCapvGfEGRQ/w426-h640/Easter%201907-1.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxb_mIRlBEw8rOP6R0TmyajrGEjSKi_3pSZcDwZvHWlhzLJ2xKTMrM0s0O4_jhzFQaS5rgLtCTidvgFOR68Btc70Bwo4k_BoDUl-TvQ_78ZVaaiMw970hsx3wbtccHIpYImjTJet7hcMhVEtqNxn3V2leXG3zLOY6YBUBvLAM625eqHfrTwRMcnoKJeg/s2702/Easter%201907-2a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2702" data-original-width="1815" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxb_mIRlBEw8rOP6R0TmyajrGEjSKi_3pSZcDwZvHWlhzLJ2xKTMrM0s0O4_jhzFQaS5rgLtCTidvgFOR68Btc70Bwo4k_BoDUl-TvQ_78ZVaaiMw970hsx3wbtccHIpYImjTJet7hcMhVEtqNxn3V2leXG3zLOY6YBUBvLAM625eqHfrTwRMcnoKJeg/w430-h640/Easter%201907-2a.jpg" width="430" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But I am not the only person who has a menu collection. In fact, one woman who started collecting menus on January 1, 1900 collected over 25,000 menus in her day. Her collection now resides in the New York Public Library. Who was she? Her name was Frank Editha Bottolph and she lived from 1844 until 1924. Before we dive into her menu collection, let's see what we can "dig up" about the woman with the unusual name and unusual hobby. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Frank Buttolph was born Frances Editha Buttles in 1844 in Mansfield, Pennsylvania to Reuben Parmenter Buttles (1817-1893) and Frances Amanda Wheeler (1815-1890). Reuben and Frances had been married on July 25, 1843 in Mansfield. Frank had a sister, Parmelia Ernstiel</span><span> Buttles (1849-1875). For clarity, I will refer to Frances Editha as "Frank" to differentiate her from her mother. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The first record of Frank Buttles is in the 1850 US Census for Richmond Township, Ostego County, Pennsylvania. The family consisted of R.P. Buttles (34 years old), Amanda (35), Frances (5) and Parmelia (1). R.P. listed his occupation as "Wagon Maker." He said the family owned Real Estate worth $500.00. Frances was listed as being "In School."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1860 US Census shows the Buttles family as still living in Mansfield, in the Cherry Flats Post Office district. The family consisted of R.P. (43), Amanda (45), Frances (15) and Parmelia (11). In addition, 33 year old John Dangman, a "Cabinet Maker," lived with the family. R.P. still listed his occupation as "Wagon Maker." Now the family reported Real Estate of $5,000.00 and Personalty of $500.00. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1865 Frank graduated from the Genesee College and Genesee Wesleyan Seminary in Lima, New York:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALdXzBjEDHxQTJZD6conpSC54NzfqCExfA_zJgTbYetiilwk1-iQ18P5Yv92SGkqzGImIrCDsiWtXCZC55xDKlpakkzOTjGqU6BdqMkY607lJCt5oa5ELkcPWIr6tztkLcDpyZfOV1uLgYHwyegqTs4Vb3NC4cQ180FX-xaVhy2O2LKW-KtvjxQXdCg/s802/Genesee-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="477" data-original-width="802" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALdXzBjEDHxQTJZD6conpSC54NzfqCExfA_zJgTbYetiilwk1-iQ18P5Yv92SGkqzGImIrCDsiWtXCZC55xDKlpakkzOTjGqU6BdqMkY607lJCt5oa5ELkcPWIr6tztkLcDpyZfOV1uLgYHwyegqTs4Vb3NC4cQ180FX-xaVhy2O2LKW-KtvjxQXdCg/w531-h316/Genesee-1.jpg" width="531" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZz7m5EDv3W4eHGTDdi2z20udbGMSF-V0bxhkz1B7kyDi3b-YkCstLdw4i0MUAW2GDmeRXGcqTC7OZ1efqrcQhcZy58IZ4NpgtUK8dHBJg-aZcG6dX6Xv4Qewr6xzxssG64dheSVFMgTrMBLraUSJEnUJ4SIbqLHGHl3oaSeGrHcgeNeayrwkWNoPEg/s1600/Genesee-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="968" data-original-width="1600" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZz7m5EDv3W4eHGTDdi2z20udbGMSF-V0bxhkz1B7kyDi3b-YkCstLdw4i0MUAW2GDmeRXGcqTC7OZ1efqrcQhcZy58IZ4NpgtUK8dHBJg-aZcG6dX6Xv4Qewr6xzxssG64dheSVFMgTrMBLraUSJEnUJ4SIbqLHGHl3oaSeGrHcgeNeayrwkWNoPEg/w532-h323/Genesee-2.jpg" width="532" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="460" data-original-width="514" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijA1sWout5CwgnMA5fAFLlPx1NprVhVQv4WVauemlbe8dwJ55PbkLovdwzEdY87WDQT6PxSZZQFQNj-eRMNIoEvToZoM5eVj8_dRcUr5GncIXL2exvee9qJCs55bpfSFbRrHb_75NL52XdWtEuD48QsD2rBOvWUIOO-T9j7SyMUGwEtewWj6mh1-Qanw/w474-h424/Gradulation%201865.JPG" width="474" /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1866 Frank was a communicant of St. James Episcopal Church in Mansfield. She was the only member of her family to be a parishioner of St. James.</span><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1870 US Census shows Frank still living with her family in Mansfield. The family consisted of: Reuben (53), Amanda (55), and Frances (25). In addition, a 25 year old teacher, Marie Otis, lived with the family. Reuben said listed his occupation as "Wagon Boxes," and Frank said she was a "Teacher." Frank's sister Parmelia was also a Teacher, but she was living with a family in Montrose, Pennsylvania. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On July 8, 1874, Frank's sister Parmelia married Edward P. Balch in Shakopee, Minnesota. One year later, on July 14, 1875 Parmelia Buttles Balch died giving birth to her daughter Miriam Ellen Balch. Parmelia was twenty-six years old. The Mansfield (PA) Advertiser printed an obituary of Parmelia in their edition of July 28, 1875:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQHjPD9hkJviQxM_y7aehlyVl0dEXBQBfXE1_4DOE-_trtnubIMHYLVEmAwPPddpp5iu6pm0OKWY3GjFvaRL1BkjQfvEi9wQohwmd78vu-r9uAP-dargVMk3KpMaDgl2UDpG1mFnBGp5ufiMJK2SK_YwcVp8qcylycQXK39NJhKKGbYsqDD63H7x3cNA/s4195/Mansfield_Advertiser_1875_07_28_page_3.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4195" data-original-width="683" height="4025" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQHjPD9hkJviQxM_y7aehlyVl0dEXBQBfXE1_4DOE-_trtnubIMHYLVEmAwPPddpp5iu6pm0OKWY3GjFvaRL1BkjQfvEi9wQohwmd78vu-r9uAP-dargVMk3KpMaDgl2UDpG1mFnBGp5ufiMJK2SK_YwcVp8qcylycQXK39NJhKKGbYsqDD63H7x3cNA/w654-h4025/Mansfield_Advertiser_1875_07_28_page_3.jpg" width="654" /></a></p><span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Parmelia is buried in the Valley Cemetery in Shakopee, Minnesota:</span></span></p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpFeGyMKGvrrGE-ePJBvhD0PSr1A-EjscQHIa1DBUjt6GS4XiToc63pAQzgkVXUaHPvsmNMgCtXi3Jcdj6OKEpR-t1_S_Iz7wQoTugW9-l98Q2rpivn_-LYmXUddSGl0wQ9eaZr6jHTWo8Gm3lDVwYesrdWqoKWqwUy0NNSRrkIsZFk4GeOdrXaCQI_w/s630/Balch.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="421" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpFeGyMKGvrrGE-ePJBvhD0PSr1A-EjscQHIa1DBUjt6GS4XiToc63pAQzgkVXUaHPvsmNMgCtXi3Jcdj6OKEpR-t1_S_Iz7wQoTugW9-l98Q2rpivn_-LYmXUddSGl0wQ9eaZr6jHTWo8Gm3lDVwYesrdWqoKWqwUy0NNSRrkIsZFk4GeOdrXaCQI_w/w428-h640/Balch.png" width="428" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photo courtesy of volunteer xandismother</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Only Sister</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Parmelia Buttles</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">wife of E. P. Balch</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Went Home </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">July 14, 1875</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">26 Yrs.</span></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We don't know when Francis Editha Buttles began calling herself "Frank" but it was before Parmelia died in 1875 because the obituary refers to "Frank" in several places. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I was unable to find Frank in the 1880 US Census but I did find her parents, still in Mansfield, Pennsylvania. </span><span style="font-size: medium;">Frank is not living with her parents at the time of the 1880 Census. Interestingly her father now lists his occupation as "Wagon Maker and Undertaker."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">About this same time Reuben Buttles began practicing medicine in Mansfield, but the fact is that he had no medical degree or degree of any kind according to the Wellsboro (PA) Gazette from January 3, 1882. He was one of a group of "doctors" who would no longer be able to practice medicine after the Pennsylvania Legislature passed a law that required that anyone who practiced medicine was required to "be a graduate of a legally chartered medical college or university having the authority to confer the degree of doctor of medicine..." </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1887, after working as a teacher in New Jersey, Kentucky, and Delaware, Frank settled in Manhattan. The Mansfield (PA) Advertiser reported a visit back to see her parents "Dr. and Mrs. Buttles" in their edition of June 27, 1888:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHFArZTuEDKQ0E5QIVM9KshBTOmUU1oGkP4OtcBECBLJ1G4sfko2T195Zep7R3sWaqkm3IsoAEKeDnCdeGPdAfZ3jHq1Xo2_6kmKwGhcVRWVfB2f1pJD44rd3J-s6Qsy5sIZ3Syu3C9r4oF3OCDbC9t_wXFfmEgmKhoEtIeUHyuFtbOHnLjirOl_mOQ/s451/Buttles%201888.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="142" data-original-width="451" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHFArZTuEDKQ0E5QIVM9KshBTOmUU1oGkP4OtcBECBLJ1G4sfko2T195Zep7R3sWaqkm3IsoAEKeDnCdeGPdAfZ3jHq1Xo2_6kmKwGhcVRWVfB2f1pJD44rd3J-s6Qsy5sIZ3Syu3C9r4oF3OCDbC9t_wXFfmEgmKhoEtIeUHyuFtbOHnLjirOl_mOQ/w400-h126/Buttles%201888.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Apparently Frank had an "outdoor side" as reported by the Mansfield (PA) Advertiser on August 1, 1888:</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjebLEsdjHdg6xDuE1LQxNK1qG4ciPSZ8YEM1dOfYMe3pzhXTmYxjmXYBqmqzLQuMg3XLydY_1wEr4ahWojDufCAyFsjTrHv41CPR3OfU75uMJ4kyaz58Kwk8vOX5__uYIXqKf1zDSdAufmT5Nvnp5tQsPAyE790VKA3i0zWgSLJT1Y2h2vhea8U9Y0A/s459/Buttles%201888-2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="88" data-original-width="459" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjebLEsdjHdg6xDuE1LQxNK1qG4ciPSZ8YEM1dOfYMe3pzhXTmYxjmXYBqmqzLQuMg3XLydY_1wEr4ahWojDufCAyFsjTrHv41CPR3OfU75uMJ4kyaz58Kwk8vOX5__uYIXqKf1zDSdAufmT5Nvnp5tQsPAyE790VKA3i0zWgSLJT1Y2h2vhea8U9Y0A/w400-h76/Buttles%201888-2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1890 US Census for that area is of course, lost, but the Mansfield (PA) Advertiser reported sad news about Frank's mother on July 30, 1890:</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Jx5buiynmNUBy09tBW40dvMBLZuv4Ls-dTovmMsO7T175OdbzdbTLbLQNdzv0kQ8R4by6uXr4dhbEII8MoIUgqfcpH-5Pu5LZYEgiWjvEfgK1C8odbD1tJz1sddrWMnIQJkwI3iwZfP_uTvm2YTEJiQ3n_7u2CEJC-lDVyhiKsE_uT9lXP9HTFR8mA/s638/Buttles%201890.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="584" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Jx5buiynmNUBy09tBW40dvMBLZuv4Ls-dTovmMsO7T175OdbzdbTLbLQNdzv0kQ8R4by6uXr4dhbEII8MoIUgqfcpH-5Pu5LZYEgiWjvEfgK1C8odbD1tJz1sddrWMnIQJkwI3iwZfP_uTvm2YTEJiQ3n_7u2CEJC-lDVyhiKsE_uT9lXP9HTFR8mA/w366-h400/Buttles%201890.JPG" width="366" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">By 1893 Frank's father Reuben Buttles was an inmate of the county insane asylum according to the Mansfield (PA) Advertiser from August 30, 1893 who reported his escape from the institution. He died late in 1893 in Mansfield. I was unable to find any burial information for either he or his wife.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>In 1900 Frank changed her last name </span>to “Buttolph” after discovering that “Buttles” was a recent corruption of her ancestral name. However, I was unable to find Frank in the 1900 US Census under either "Buttles" or "Buttolph."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now we come to her famous menu collection. Frank liked to </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">say that she started collecting restaurant menus on January 1, 1900 at the Columbia Restaurant in New York. She said when she saw </span></span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">a menu that was dated with the new century she was struck by the sight, and saved it. But that probably wasn’t true, since her vast collection appears to have begun several years earlier. The New York Public Library, which now archives many of Buttolph’s menus, even states that she first contacted them about her collection a year prior, in 1899.</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">No matter when she actually started, </span><span style="font-size: medium;">by</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">1900 she had amassed a significant number of menus and the New York Public Library agreed to accept her collection. Her desire to amass as many menus as possible only grew from there. She began volunteering at the Astor Library and ultimately at the New York Public Library, where she spent much of her time over the next 20 years. As is the case with most collectors, she didn't do anything half-way. Frank dove head first into obtaining as many menus for her collection as possible. She sent out hundreds of letters to restaurants, transportation companies, chambers of commerce, government agencies, and newspaper editors to solicit donations. The letters went out to establishments across the United States and Europe. Frank's years of teaching languages came in handy as she was able to address her letters in French and German when requesting menus from non-English speaking countries. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The Columbia Restaurant menu:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8sjnA7Djy924YOCesVp3ZjjJ1WwTu9bSG09DJgn-tF_6WMrg8VeMqiPJ7H941Yuq43l7sPxWnqlDvTY5SSV20Id1QZ-IYFX_pGi3JLgcSqkWPPCvLSwVNJsv4JZcsRs1ak8gT7PjDSMvv3lcRmucgNQSwDOQxvYUTzHBsqKP352EK8L8pelFBvtq0nA/s1190/464ff33932040acc58_Columbia%201900%20menu.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1190" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8sjnA7Djy924YOCesVp3ZjjJ1WwTu9bSG09DJgn-tF_6WMrg8VeMqiPJ7H941Yuq43l7sPxWnqlDvTY5SSV20Id1QZ-IYFX_pGi3JLgcSqkWPPCvLSwVNJsv4JZcsRs1ak8gT7PjDSMvv3lcRmucgNQSwDOQxvYUTzHBsqKP352EK8L8pelFBvtq0nA/w430-h640/464ff33932040acc58_Columbia%201900%20menu.jpg" width="430" /></a></div><span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Frank made sure that every menu was stamped as being part of her collection. </span></span></p></span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">To attract ever more contributions, she took out ads in magazines such as Hotel Gazette, did numerous newspaper interviews, and enlisted aides to collect on her behalf—some of whom continued sending her menus for decades. It was said about Frank that she “frequently barged into private banquets at the city’s fanciest dining establishments and demanded a copy of their printed menu.” </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Frank Buttolph’s commitment to collecting menus came, she said, from her desire to preserve early 1900s culinary history for future scholars. As word of her collection spread, articles began appearing in local newspapers. Here is an article from the Brooklyn (NY) Life of January 24, 1903:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLjUYWyx0zwPz5LIbUU6n6_Onc97Qo76-Xn6slYslpWkAHrg_IUvrtVf-ELRSqZdCBesAWMwLAtS5Bf_lhEFkYddmPwsW504QYQeTLa7wrCFT9AuCNYkm0lUn4d6q_kriydHLBhNwl_H9ftTUeICYFEcRT8lAyCma6z70AYNBS2MSkXYzcSmuLLzD6kg/s461/Brooklyn%2024%20Jan%201903.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="361" data-original-width="461" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLjUYWyx0zwPz5LIbUU6n6_Onc97Qo76-Xn6slYslpWkAHrg_IUvrtVf-ELRSqZdCBesAWMwLAtS5Bf_lhEFkYddmPwsW504QYQeTLa7wrCFT9AuCNYkm0lUn4d6q_kriydHLBhNwl_H9ftTUeICYFEcRT8lAyCma6z70AYNBS2MSkXYzcSmuLLzD6kg/w640-h502/Brooklyn%2024%20Jan%201903.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">And even a satirical writeup from the Buffalo (NY) News of November 25, 1903:</span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1316" data-original-width="597" height="978" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwDsCX2tZWQfEJ3YAje8Zq6BVAnrzz9t0meEeqrJCEDtoSkhXJlpk_JZYiDCgJ1n15ncIg4VeVTfSJMD0dYX9QBPyHZJvA7tiE7YN9QpaTFQP-TSP_1ep5dx5U7BEhhkgDF_2CyBl1n_SjL46FmCNouNiXp2V5kzuWUci9GuwNn-mwONmin9duSynXhw/w443-h978/The_Buffalo_News_1903_11_25_page_11.jpg" width="443" /></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The New York Times published an expansive article about her collection on May 22, 1904:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOPUpBIv670PFKHmhQm0y8VTV-dPhFJ5Ex_8McNE2tixhdAgtbTw07duGDexfkQdDITkNW70nfWBn3emqedBVj8zZmfGpxJWsgjojFe_mr5TWv0PbDaZvRFRWobB9dKAJdW54V0LMytFLiMZ1KV29uftfcSx6msreoKsOYDn8NC3VbIgoX8DTqdfOWpg/s590/Royalty-1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="171" data-original-width="590" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOPUpBIv670PFKHmhQm0y8VTV-dPhFJ5Ex_8McNE2tixhdAgtbTw07duGDexfkQdDITkNW70nfWBn3emqedBVj8zZmfGpxJWsgjojFe_mr5TWv0PbDaZvRFRWobB9dKAJdW54V0LMytFLiMZ1KV29uftfcSx6msreoKsOYDn8NC3VbIgoX8DTqdfOWpg/w476-h138/Royalty-1.JPG" width="476" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuYYnj5tz58-0_Wv0-oHvk8CMCSldLw5Z1PRTbx0Dug6nc9rUeqofjqbsUF3swCIhHNX9B7cJoSYz9a8YAshy4ARLGQGezfH9ggpTq160UArxIGGddWHA4HYkcYqS9LWN0LlF0eRMYqe2UvW4N8t32FN7RrDsd37IuIMJxV3MiI6IRum5bmn2n9viAKA/s2790/Royalty-2.jpg" style="font-size: large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2790" data-original-width="904" height="1234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuYYnj5tz58-0_Wv0-oHvk8CMCSldLw5Z1PRTbx0Dug6nc9rUeqofjqbsUF3swCIhHNX9B7cJoSYz9a8YAshy4ARLGQGezfH9ggpTq160UArxIGGddWHA4HYkcYqS9LWN0LlF0eRMYqe2UvW4N8t32FN7RrDsd37IuIMJxV3MiI6IRum5bmn2n9viAKA/w401-h1234/Royalty-2.jpg" width="401" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK6Tj99ai0JlvF6y4mufDy7OO8lkcBooPuu9hp6YAd-VDSVq4CVxfMoSxvGrYBI71V3WfZrbssK_ivVa1I-alnbGjVnHpcja2O7L7HJtK5EdLp_OBUZBpvtofvswoCjHy0DTMc-D6jIkwkE0g0zbJtPFlTm1kYoPF_2fwpwD2oUSW1a-qZpRvP8Chkjg/s2820/Royalty-3.jpg" style="font-size: large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2820" data-original-width="908" height="1215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK6Tj99ai0JlvF6y4mufDy7OO8lkcBooPuu9hp6YAd-VDSVq4CVxfMoSxvGrYBI71V3WfZrbssK_ivVa1I-alnbGjVnHpcja2O7L7HJtK5EdLp_OBUZBpvtofvswoCjHy0DTMc-D6jIkwkE0g0zbJtPFlTm1kYoPF_2fwpwD2oUSW1a-qZpRvP8Chkjg/w391-h1215/Royalty-3.jpg" width="391" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkDHxsAMkHBiEFKkJCAVVnRjkF2PwyHXpgaso_E4dVUSkGyPdXc2sdZ3iyueidcfAn11T4IxCCzrAsOtdLANzvJNwysIoqPDK7xf27hTkYjt7RQtwBi8JrnPFuh2WHfrVp2HyvrAGRZ1lP1SHoMlhkX4t4YhbyVNdwkUKpKZ8emSN2JnnXo7jmWRzdWg/s1735/Royalty-5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1735" data-original-width="880" height="783" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkDHxsAMkHBiEFKkJCAVVnRjkF2PwyHXpgaso_E4dVUSkGyPdXc2sdZ3iyueidcfAn11T4IxCCzrAsOtdLANzvJNwysIoqPDK7xf27hTkYjt7RQtwBi8JrnPFuh2WHfrVp2HyvrAGRZ1lP1SHoMlhkX4t4YhbyVNdwkUKpKZ8emSN2JnnXo7jmWRzdWg/w396-h783/Royalty-5.jpg" width="396" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Brooklyn (NY) Life from May 09, 1908 reported a tremendous addition to Frank's collection:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf3qrt4l765DS5WpW-cv7ciXCYH52H_MyNOhzeVy_lXtNMMz7W4aUp444IGSgsxzj6arEXm7_yzaSVA4zOX-upGDEGColMhtpdfWZIZtQNkwLFxwKlZ1Ednd33pM2ZM1URxo3tJV9ZRflHm0AjARw8FJkGqIw7KjEN31Q8Ib1nJg2ydKBVEkVUh4q7cw/s468/Buttolph%201908.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="411" data-original-width="468" height="562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf3qrt4l765DS5WpW-cv7ciXCYH52H_MyNOhzeVy_lXtNMMz7W4aUp444IGSgsxzj6arEXm7_yzaSVA4zOX-upGDEGColMhtpdfWZIZtQNkwLFxwKlZ1Ednd33pM2ZM1URxo3tJV9ZRflHm0AjARw8FJkGqIw7KjEN31Q8Ib1nJg2ydKBVEkVUh4q7cw/w640-h562/Buttolph%201908.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Frank was a meticulous collector—not only in transcribing, dating, and organizing her menus with a detailed card catalog, but also about how they should be stored. When the director of the Library tried to rubber-band menus together, she pushed back out of worry that it would leave marks.</span></p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">As you can imagine, Frank Buttolph had her detractors as well. </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The New York</span> Times called her an “unostentatious, literary-looking lady whose bugaboo is a possible spot upon one of her precious menus.” In a March 1905 article, The Literary Collector noted that the public initially regarded her as “a rather tiresome freak” who was wasting “a vast amount of energy … that might have been expended better.”</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Staying true to form, I was unable to find Frank Buttolph (or Buttles) in either the 1910 or 1920 US Census.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Unfortunately, the same idiosyncrasies that made Frank a committed archivist also alienated her from her coworkers, who failed to understand her mission. Her reportedly disruptive tirades against everything from whistling to untidy desks eventually resulted in her dismissal from the library in 1923. Her last record came in the form of a letter to the library administration, in which she wrote, “For many years my library work has been the only thing I had to live for. It was my heart, my soul, my life. Always before me was the vision of students of history who would say ‘thank you’ to my name and memory.” </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On February 27, 1924 Frank Buttolph died alone of pneumonia in Bellevue Hospital. She was 80 years old. Her death record incorrectly lists her year of birth as 1854 when it was in reality 1844 as proven by her appearing on the 1850 US Census.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Frank Buttolph is buried in St. Michael's Cemetery in </span></span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">East Elmhurst, Queens County, New York. </span></span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It is owned and operated by St. Michael’s Church, an Episcopal congregation located on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. I emailed St. Michael's to ask for the location of Frank's grave so I could make arrangements to have the grave photographed. I received a response from Rita Gambino of St. Michael's:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The grave location is Trinity Church Plot – Range 5 - Grave 33.</span></i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">This was an old church plot and there is no marker at the gravesite. There are no others interred within the grave with her. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The only living relative Frank would have had would have been her niece, Parmelia's daughter Miriam Balch, but it is unknown whether or not they had any contact. Miriam would have been 49 years old in 1924.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbfpE93pEl_faX-nFKSscwgqGhvVX2TT4KbsQ5-UcOu7ik-MDOrbEQl2jw32ABD-C0xvS7DigbQ8-1Gc0vv-n4oYmvbvNYrtqk3GUAgbrgIF6NXBVJExEV7L2hvSQWqe8TfA4C7eLkruwdkzjS_3yUh33N9r8i3TteoIHo0iFhuGPjrpltzlKVNrCNrg/s541/231439019_d1ba4bfb-50d4-4f21-8535-47e6b103250b.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="482" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbfpE93pEl_faX-nFKSscwgqGhvVX2TT4KbsQ5-UcOu7ik-MDOrbEQl2jw32ABD-C0xvS7DigbQ8-1Gc0vv-n4oYmvbvNYrtqk3GUAgbrgIF6NXBVJExEV7L2hvSQWqe8TfA4C7eLkruwdkzjS_3yUh33N9r8i3TteoIHo0iFhuGPjrpltzlKVNrCNrg/s320/231439019_d1ba4bfb-50d4-4f21-8535-47e6b103250b.jpeg" width="285" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Frank Editha Buttolph - her menus were her life. May she rest in peace.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Today, the Buttolph Collection of Menus at the New York Public Library offers more than 40,000 menus to scholars interested in food, restaurant, and cultural history. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">If you wish to examine Frank Buttolph's menu collection for yourself, you can view 19,272 of her menus here:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/collections/the-buttolph-collection-of-menus#/?tab=about">https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/collections/the-buttolph-collection-of-menus#/?tab=about</a></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Additional information about Frank Buttolph and her menu collection can be found at:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/frank-buttolph-menu-new-york-public-library-collection">https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/frank-buttolph-menu-new-york-public-library-collection</a></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.thirteen.org/metrofocus/2011/08/meet-miss-frank-e-buttolph-new-york-menu-archivist-extraordinaire/">https://www.thirteen.org/metrofocus/2011/08/meet-miss-frank-e-buttolph-new-york-menu-archivist-extraordinaire/</a></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As you can imagine, finding information on Frank Buttolph was extremely difficult. Much of the information I reported was collected from these two sources. </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-53898259111569611492023-04-01T02:40:00.000-07:002023-04-01T02:40:08.509-07:00A MELVIN H. SYKES PORTRAIT SPEAKS FOR ITSELF - Melvin Hatcher Sykes<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Several years ago I told the story of Mabel Huxley Sykes who Rudolph Valentino said was his favorite photographer:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://undereverytombstone.blogspot.com/2013/06/she-was-rudolph-valentino-favorite.html">https://undereverytombstone.blogspot.com/2013/06/she-was-rudolph-valentino-favorite.html</a></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">While doing research about Mabel Sykes I found that she had been married at one time to another professional photographer - Melvin Hatcher Sykes. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">At the time of her divorce from Melvin Sykes, the Chicago Tribune in its edition from August 27, 1914 printed an article about the oft-married Melvin Sykes:</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw64E1dMvz_Az3h19KqV_Jz4yn54UzS0jRAWA9VxjJLN62GOvp58MLY-Z7mdsHpBsH8BaKb1M1rKtlgZQLNJ_bPuqj4ywz3cKbYoW8rcDA9jPCIQYbqcgnSHvqlIVdPUWQWtR7VFqezKee1qSpZffXQfbHGAZBMaoYi3w2nbubZ7Vo0AZ-DEPinP6vKg/s4280/Limelight_2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4280" data-original-width="2998" height="793" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw64E1dMvz_Az3h19KqV_Jz4yn54UzS0jRAWA9VxjJLN62GOvp58MLY-Z7mdsHpBsH8BaKb1M1rKtlgZQLNJ_bPuqj4ywz3cKbYoW8rcDA9jPCIQYbqcgnSHvqlIVdPUWQWtR7VFqezKee1qSpZffXQfbHGAZBMaoYi3w2nbubZ7Vo0AZ-DEPinP6vKg/w555-h793/Limelight_2.jpg" width="555" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3xUu6quIZp2jjEXW2TnzHhjZ7dWyPeOr2SRGiYgzBgr49LfpvqVOrbIU5oFn14qZifbGTB799usPPU8hSWAbQNZRbHNce2GU1DdebGECnGqJPjirBpD2-ncsQGrPYh4bSMRYXRJN_2VICzFMlgrMvsrDVx1aEzUNpg6ib6aBtANFWaP6712mQrumBA/s3758/Sykes%20Part%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3758" data-original-width="1531" height="1329" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3xUu6quIZp2jjEXW2TnzHhjZ7dWyPeOr2SRGiYgzBgr49LfpvqVOrbIU5oFn14qZifbGTB799usPPU8hSWAbQNZRbHNce2GU1DdebGECnGqJPjirBpD2-ncsQGrPYh4bSMRYXRJN_2VICzFMlgrMvsrDVx1aEzUNpg6ib6aBtANFWaP6712mQrumBA/w542-h1329/Sykes%20Part%202.jpg" width="542" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">At the time of the article, Sykes had been married four times, and had lined up a candidate for wife #5. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Before we look further into the life and work of award-winning photographer Melvin Sykes, let's see what we can "dig up" about him:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Melvin Hatcher Sykes was born February 17, 1869 in Petersburg, Virginia, to Gustavus Adolphus Sykes (1831-1872) and his wife Katherine Ann "Kate" Robertson (1837-1879). Gustavus and Kate were married on October 8, 1856 in Petersburg, Virginia. They were blessed with ten children: Gustavus A. Sykes, Jr. (1857-1888), Martha Elizabeth "Mattie" Sykes-Mrs. William R. Smith (1859-1927), Thomas Skinner Sykes (1861-1864), William Benjamin Sykes (1863-1863), Annie Marie Sykes (1864-1864), James O. "Jimmie" Sykes (1866-1869), Samuel Henry Sykes (1867-1869), Melvin Hatcher Sykes (1869-1949), Edward W. (Patrick) Sykes (1870-1871) and Kate Amanda Sykes (1871-1872).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Gustavus Sykes started out as a Printer, and ended up as the Editor of the local newspaper in Petersburg, Virginia. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Melvin Sykes makes his first appearance in the 1870 US Census. The family was living in the "3rd Ward of the City of Petersburg, Virginia." The family consisted of Gustavus (38 years old), and Catherine (32), and children Gustavus (12), Martha (11), Melvin (2), and Patrick (1/12). </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Many changes had taken place for young Melvin by the time the 1880 US Census came along. By 1880 both his father and mother were dead: Gustavus in 1872 and Kate in 1879. Furthermore, in 1880 his older brother Gustavus, Jr. was a patient at the Eastern Lunatic Asylum in Williamsburg where he was judged as "Insane" and could no longer read or write. Melvin and his sister Mattie (Martha) were living with their uncle Melvin A. Martin in Petersburg, Virginia. Melvin reported that he was seventeen years old and was attending school.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1890 US Census for that part of the country is lost.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We do know, however what Melvin Sykes was doing in 1890 - he was getting married - for the first time. The Washington, D.C. Evening Star from June 17, 1890 reported that M.H. Sykes of Richmond, Virginia and Miss Mary E. Maloney had applied for a Marriage License:</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6l4_LwWsSg2SfIARGspO7O-plZCs7NMHr1tpcLXY-bKvhFL9hpMJE6ZrQnDaJVUkWmYSIOskS2rtBT6_CksshgooghUZ8klp4CcUBF4Q5UeotwZpAaTXJTGtWudBRvHFjWcVzHSK44xA1LSPU-SMdpFjLezCfXUo5v1ACr7I9tSGxMTssu2iM7S3f5A/s789/DC%20Evening%20Star%2017%20Jun%201890.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="502" data-original-width="789" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6l4_LwWsSg2SfIARGspO7O-plZCs7NMHr1tpcLXY-bKvhFL9hpMJE6ZrQnDaJVUkWmYSIOskS2rtBT6_CksshgooghUZ8klp4CcUBF4Q5UeotwZpAaTXJTGtWudBRvHFjWcVzHSK44xA1LSPU-SMdpFjLezCfXUo5v1ACr7I9tSGxMTssu2iM7S3f5A/w400-h255/DC%20Evening%20Star%2017%20Jun%201890.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and records indicate that they did get married in Washington on June 16th, 1890. The groom was twenty-one; the bride was twenty-four. This was the first and only time Melvin Sykes would marry a woman older than he was. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Melvin Sykes and Mary Maloney Sykes were blessed with two children: Henry S. Sykes (1892-????) and Mary Gertrude "Mamie" Sykes (1893-1982).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Wheeling (WV) Daily Register for June 10, 1892 reported the arrival of Melvin Sykes and his photography business:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5lqW35PlXv_Q_Xz7bX5Szdx750RjNvnsJkvw_ZKvzp4r3Ge9NdvbB3f63Pkf8zrSbORK-UYCr_dyzudNfdmmYYdnS9HKvOOzMjvh0JN4KoIdJkl-2zcneJFFDLjvFyNwDlKYxIl_T0Q0ULOYFViFCcr75Ple0Z8anWhwh5ur-0xNSAj1uNspnbe6iaA/s516/10%20Jun%201892.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="102" data-original-width="516" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5lqW35PlXv_Q_Xz7bX5Szdx750RjNvnsJkvw_ZKvzp4r3Ge9NdvbB3f63Pkf8zrSbORK-UYCr_dyzudNfdmmYYdnS9HKvOOzMjvh0JN4KoIdJkl-2zcneJFFDLjvFyNwDlKYxIl_T0Q0ULOYFViFCcr75Ple0Z8anWhwh5ur-0xNSAj1uNspnbe6iaA/w660-h130/10%20Jun%201892.JPG" width="660" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Melvin Sykes' photography business also shows up in the Wheeling, West Virginia Directory for 1892. Sykes is listed as the manager and operator of the Parsons' Gallery at 1205 Market Street.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnR83ZXbzPlhYGzAzn6kJfu2gM-atsi79zuOIMXjL86SCvMknkSB3WSOonnyf8nlIYcs3iF_XD-P162xuvIMTFsx-m5Fv4dhs-kc0J_H05nBrglXWmoRJrck4Wcigc7f7t6NtAEBu8U57_oHwuBM9n7MsLSKeKHk4cDIXqq8hkTZrYAoVsepfXMcDorQ/s609/Parsons%20Gallery.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="44" data-original-width="609" height="46" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnR83ZXbzPlhYGzAzn6kJfu2gM-atsi79zuOIMXjL86SCvMknkSB3WSOonnyf8nlIYcs3iF_XD-P162xuvIMTFsx-m5Fv4dhs-kc0J_H05nBrglXWmoRJrck4Wcigc7f7t6NtAEBu8U57_oHwuBM9n7MsLSKeKHk4cDIXqq8hkTZrYAoVsepfXMcDorQ/w640-h46/Parsons%20Gallery.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The site is now a pizzeria.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Melvin Sykes photography business in the Parsons' Gallery started out very well. He advertised frequently in the local newspapers, always promising "artistic results." and "high class work. Here is his ad from t</span><span style="text-align: left;"><span>he Wheeling (WV) Daily Register for July 13, 1892:</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-56vx1D_MGBRcYyGQk5lWU8RWSdmuLYACSWrK4zuxvJYUwAR-m9bXSmYCzu0a4psq7a3WTOyurBpcXaKgDc_-IgEu81pBS-UYWBZCMlffhZfyNi5_fl_gpCXG5M7LfkRgo3dgixwjIutaoCNTRWIl776GjzjSjaz_3xB0xhcMpvCmdxnSuDgUex-dHQ/s411/13%20Jul%201892.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="195" data-original-width="411" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-56vx1D_MGBRcYyGQk5lWU8RWSdmuLYACSWrK4zuxvJYUwAR-m9bXSmYCzu0a4psq7a3WTOyurBpcXaKgDc_-IgEu81pBS-UYWBZCMlffhZfyNi5_fl_gpCXG5M7LfkRgo3dgixwjIutaoCNTRWIl776GjzjSjaz_3xB0xhcMpvCmdxnSuDgUex-dHQ/w658-h312/13%20Jul%201892.JPG" width="658" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But by the end of 1892 a problem had turned up. This is from the Wheeling (WV) Daily Register for December 23, 1892</span><span style="font-size: medium;">:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOq7J26e46YDuvh9Xa7HoegMnrbHkmBG8JJUjQkRtB8hrgKZmEJGI_ehA_tDUts00xdX7070LPFbuIT2Orr1Q4Jxs50Q7jnvbu9jy_9Pst6fJWUsUqwdG63Em7rqW5ENdy_2GwLITnHRGBbn0AoEtqpdodDCTOq1rjiDzsrhGg9Yk8IUcl0xAk3r5E8Q/s491/23%20Dec%201892.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="491" data-original-width="316" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOq7J26e46YDuvh9Xa7HoegMnrbHkmBG8JJUjQkRtB8hrgKZmEJGI_ehA_tDUts00xdX7070LPFbuIT2Orr1Q4Jxs50Q7jnvbu9jy_9Pst6fJWUsUqwdG63Em7rqW5ENdy_2GwLITnHRGBbn0AoEtqpdodDCTOq1rjiDzsrhGg9Yk8IUcl0xAk3r5E8Q/w412-h640/23%20Dec%201892.JPG" width="412" /></a></div><p style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;">This matter appears to have been cleared up satisfactorily with no further mention of it in the local newspapers. Throughout 1892 and 1893 Sykes is continually praised by the local press. Terms were used to describe him such as "a photographic artist," and "one of the best operators in the country."</p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sykes' first wife, Mary E. Maloney Sykes died August 18, 1893 of consumption at the home of her uncle at Ft. Louis, Virginia. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This appeared in the Wheeling (WV) Register on August 20, 1893:</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgpMKksLB0bCN9A13JP5oghS66hwUvrDUKPOv4vvDtmvyNVeU436QhFeU4W5OdCiScvauwyOsgl_dl5oRkYoiFGNKaMqpcbjlsYMrVLSqNMmIfN3anIS3T_4NUHHDZWvawaDdmaHpZnNZZGP4tSlLZVCVVr1M2Rv23SdVvoW_Xn7-FgxJp3l3b3oVu1A/s494/20%20Aug%201893.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="113" data-original-width="494" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgpMKksLB0bCN9A13JP5oghS66hwUvrDUKPOv4vvDtmvyNVeU436QhFeU4W5OdCiScvauwyOsgl_dl5oRkYoiFGNKaMqpcbjlsYMrVLSqNMmIfN3anIS3T_4NUHHDZWvawaDdmaHpZnNZZGP4tSlLZVCVVr1M2Rv23SdVvoW_Xn7-FgxJp3l3b3oVu1A/w640-h146/20%20Aug%201893.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">This is from the Staunton (VA) Spectator from August 23, 1893:</span></p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIe6EpC5OeVo71K3nQDqA5hEbovLsUQPm6LGbhY2rSczC0b4rf91BGxq8j4Dzvt487oPE_6XShpAnVAmxqWl0pdDqcQTdESGKV5Vm0718UtauDsoP4n6BOn7ucvcS8XhyIS9rMrDDhV5g1CnzmlZ1dXYrmluklFfUxLorQaR5XheCX8PeKh0DRN6e-eA/s540/23%20Aug%201893.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="86" data-original-width="540" height="106" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIe6EpC5OeVo71K3nQDqA5hEbovLsUQPm6LGbhY2rSczC0b4rf91BGxq8j4Dzvt487oPE_6XShpAnVAmxqWl0pdDqcQTdESGKV5Vm0718UtauDsoP4n6BOn7ucvcS8XhyIS9rMrDDhV5g1CnzmlZ1dXYrmluklFfUxLorQaR5XheCX8PeKh0DRN6e-eA/w666-h106/23%20Aug%201893.JPG" width="666" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The fact that her husband Melvin Sykes was not mentioned in her Death Notices suggests that Sykes and his wife were separated when she died. Her Death Notice said she was buried in Bath County, Virginia, but I was unable to find any burial information for her.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Life went on for Melvin Sykes but now he also had two children to care for - however the records indicate that he did not care for them. The 1900 US Census shows both Henry and Mamie Sykes living with Mary's parents, Michael and Anna Maloney at their home in Washington, D.C. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">By 1896 newspapers reported that Sykes was now working for L. C. O'Neill's Photograph Gallery in Wheeling, West Virginia. They continue to praise his artistic talent and abilities.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On April 18, 1897 Melvin Sykes married Rose E. Neel (1876-1977) in Washington, D.C. The groom was twenty-eight; the bride was twenty-one. Rose Neel was said to have been a "water-color artist."</span></p><div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I tried many different searches but could not find Melvin Sykes in the 1900 Census. I might never have found him, but luckily I also did a search of the 1900 Census for his wife Rose, and that's how I found them both. The Census Enumerator came to the Sykes household on June 7, 1900. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1900 US Census reflects a lot of changes for Melvin Sykes and his wife. First of all, they are no longer in Virginia, or even Washington, D.C. The 1900 Census shows them living as "Boarder(s)" at </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">#90 Exchange Street </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;">in Memphis, Tennessee. (That address no longer exists). Melvin is now calling himself "Hatcher Sykes" using his middle name. The census taker heard it as "Natches" Sykes. He said he was born in Pennsylvania (he was born in Virginia) in February of 1870 (it was February 17, 1869). He does report his occupation as "Photographer," and correctly reports that he and Rose have been married for three years.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Rose said she was born in April, 1876 in Pennsylvania (correct), that she was been married three years and has no children (both correct).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Neither Melvin, Hatcher or Natches Sykes shows up in the 1900 City Directory for Memphis, Tennessee. Nor is he listed under "Photographers." He was, however mentioned in the Memphis (TN) Commercial Appeal from August 12, 1900:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwSn0eRhsSlYU_FXU1Pp17IvsnCfKsMQY8MA6jveglUyQe8kkfFhwgNzLkZeZCHjfWjh2KFWal_CYPnr9d5Yj8v2HdTNAG8ndGgPxzP2hm9diTfZqjtty23RuTr0uGLd1UMYLVdizLmeAMMNHmYXqpE5CI7z8ZlBnP4pbGCrg122IJfk59yn4ZeXzRCw/s495/12%20Aug%201900.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="495" data-original-width="342" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwSn0eRhsSlYU_FXU1Pp17IvsnCfKsMQY8MA6jveglUyQe8kkfFhwgNzLkZeZCHjfWjh2KFWal_CYPnr9d5Yj8v2HdTNAG8ndGgPxzP2hm9diTfZqjtty23RuTr0uGLd1UMYLVdizLmeAMMNHmYXqpE5CI7z8ZlBnP4pbGCrg122IJfk59yn4ZeXzRCw/w442-h640/12%20Aug%201900.JPG" width="442" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">By 1902, Melvin Sykes' life has substantially changed again. He left Memphis and moved to Chicago, and somewhere along the way he and his second wife Rose Neel Sykes were divorced.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In Chicago he decided it was time for a fresh start. First he got a job working for Morrison the Photographer at 126 State Street and then for the Gibson Art Galleries at 195 Wabash in downtown Chicago. When he was ready to open his own studio he rented space in the McVickers Theater Building:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRk_aUoAaBq9PiKIGhmOy_pg5-iks4gurGc3rrbDH3kzxfik8GXu8KZLV1w0QxI6aXCu0EBAiLkz_iX3yIMEbEzxOyQ-Jb2OjN-2DfAUrKo3OEfN6ADv1vcKKOmbXG-uq91zaG2h6iEgoi_Jwg0IUj9QwtAbJ8StVCQUIIdabcK9Z5IQbVlV1fgZK7nw/s476/Sykes%20Ad%2019%20Feb%201905.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="243" data-original-width="476" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRk_aUoAaBq9PiKIGhmOy_pg5-iks4gurGc3rrbDH3kzxfik8GXu8KZLV1w0QxI6aXCu0EBAiLkz_iX3yIMEbEzxOyQ-Jb2OjN-2DfAUrKo3OEfN6ADv1vcKKOmbXG-uq91zaG2h6iEgoi_Jwg0IUj9QwtAbJ8StVCQUIIdabcK9Z5IQbVlV1fgZK7nw/w400-h204/Sykes%20Ad%2019%20Feb%201905.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht8V8SDe8Fs_QaxXHhlZ_cH2YN3KFG1ZY_SwfCHXGMfMl5MSs1m9JYAxNZ0LJg6sNPvqcPsea3W3l_bV833pcf2br6OHXXAV_LbPd4UbJiHWQnbU96RtMq_k36hldF7XCcxR9f_tbBvzy_itSbF-EzbPBvr_JliLkBYc69x20lBE4P-yW1QkBNlH8XPA/s900/mcvickers-theater-chicago-history-museum.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="692" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht8V8SDe8Fs_QaxXHhlZ_cH2YN3KFG1ZY_SwfCHXGMfMl5MSs1m9JYAxNZ0LJg6sNPvqcPsea3W3l_bV833pcf2br6OHXXAV_LbPd4UbJiHWQnbU96RtMq_k36hldF7XCcxR9f_tbBvzy_itSbF-EzbPBvr_JliLkBYc69x20lBE4P-yW1QkBNlH8XPA/w492-h640/mcvickers-theater-chicago-history-museum.jpg" width="492" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>And it was time for a new marriage as well. </span><span style="text-align: left;">We don't know where or when Mabel Huxley met the dashing Melvin Sykes but we do know that the nineteen year old Mabel married the thirty-</span><span style="text-align: left;">seven year old Melvin on July 21, 1902 in Waukegan, Illinois. This was the first marriage for Miss Huxley; the third for Mr. Sykes. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Here's a photo of the newlyweds at the time of their marriage:</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW2n1e46QRKBF2iRhIxXgQ3OqkORxUXez4JA9tsSWGNqNo4cYLwQOl0T7y40MQ5o_bfqiunpPnKmVJqHlyUiKwMqA0UUNDiOC84rA_ibfjhNxVrzu_jxM8jnw4urNPsoJUPcpXPANIBxh6f3uCPOD9v2a4xoEapFQMvHiadqDSc1VgpL6Z9SYB_CIhmA/s640/Mabel%20and%20Melvin%20Sykes.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="502" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW2n1e46QRKBF2iRhIxXgQ3OqkORxUXez4JA9tsSWGNqNo4cYLwQOl0T7y40MQ5o_bfqiunpPnKmVJqHlyUiKwMqA0UUNDiOC84rA_ibfjhNxVrzu_jxM8jnw4urNPsoJUPcpXPANIBxh6f3uCPOD9v2a4xoEapFQMvHiadqDSc1VgpL6Z9SYB_CIhmA/w502-h640/Mabel%20and%20Melvin%20Sykes.jpg" width="502" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mabel and Melvin Sykes</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Since Melvin Sykes was already an established award-winning photographer when they married, it is safe to say that Mabel Sykes learned the photography trade from her husband. They set up shop together in downtown Chicago. Here's a photo of Mabel that Melvin submitted to a trade publication in 1911:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtNj7ExEnPHRiRXz46_7CBhijjeEehLt4VHX1Q2hdJMKYL9MLGC7KSlQovsulfrNdRYuSLgFPwT_5ONhh8dp8Ma4afIpHVmrUth60VeUJBGQ7H5_g64sGKpFX4j2K-3_7_P5VmFuwMIu3itjfF0shxYgw5R-mdS162QmEPY2vOzhj-GFHmjBHYZKNjaQ/s768/Mabel%20Sykes%20November,%201911.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="635" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtNj7ExEnPHRiRXz46_7CBhijjeEehLt4VHX1Q2hdJMKYL9MLGC7KSlQovsulfrNdRYuSLgFPwT_5ONhh8dp8Ma4afIpHVmrUth60VeUJBGQ7H5_g64sGKpFX4j2K-3_7_P5VmFuwMIu3itjfF0shxYgw5R-mdS162QmEPY2vOzhj-GFHmjBHYZKNjaQ/w331-h400/Mabel%20Sykes%20November,%201911.jpg" width="331" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Melvin Sykes earned recognition and won awards all over the United States. This is from 1910:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3284" data-original-width="2594" height="810" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUpK3RQNGg-cW9DpKAPFiu7dWARwqB4WvRaIh5cmQWZ5FIPTz0W01-4qP2GrG5b40tIT7Jqkl9ZRRcYdaSkxAMYIgXBbduaUbI39B-oulg2LMlIOIfCbR1mdpiQKO9pNXvx5XSJibe6XBPFWQj9IO9HCRdseixLmjESFE33q5CHLT7igDdfMH7yfY-Zw/w641-h810/Sykes___22_Oct_1910_1.jpg" width="641" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizLZuudkQs3LQKRnSCB4wh99tl_0IMNESHEyD3omTKWqldgDmWc9017X1IkDrSZJrUwgOmHc8sA3_S5HF3xjAUIK5zxeYLhIYIH9tvomV7cEg39QRckPwo9I7mAlLFzgHyWO1vAsHzSicT1rIleGP3fs6VsXPiKeahGzs7m8C_B0oABXz0YGG5Fk8pMA/s891/Sykes%20-%2022%20Oct%201910-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="891" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizLZuudkQs3LQKRnSCB4wh99tl_0IMNESHEyD3omTKWqldgDmWc9017X1IkDrSZJrUwgOmHc8sA3_S5HF3xjAUIK5zxeYLhIYIH9tvomV7cEg39QRckPwo9I7mAlLFzgHyWO1vAsHzSicT1rIleGP3fs6VsXPiKeahGzs7m8C_B0oABXz0YGG5Fk8pMA/w640-h502/Sykes%20-%2022%20Oct%201910-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1910 US Census finds Melvin and Mabel Sykes living at 3700 North Pine Grove Avenue in Chicago. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhID0DyRyPSWyiy5U_11lD_zLSr0lhxJMwuMq6tzTdWQq6Oq1OHEhKrI5E01c-Ftqcj1Yx3GD9Rs9lZ4AjRazp8un8tZ2IDDqyHil5BFd29MvUbf4AeiJyDBZ0z6BzF0WVMAzOAq-RIEQM_sKyZpR-sNEPTS1lSmjX-1XSyp0MN_BucsJsvZy7Rn2sO5g/s541/3700%20n%20pine%20grove.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="541" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhID0DyRyPSWyiy5U_11lD_zLSr0lhxJMwuMq6tzTdWQq6Oq1OHEhKrI5E01c-Ftqcj1Yx3GD9Rs9lZ4AjRazp8un8tZ2IDDqyHil5BFd29MvUbf4AeiJyDBZ0z6BzF0WVMAzOAq-RIEQM_sKyZpR-sNEPTS1lSmjX-1XSyp0MN_BucsJsvZy7Rn2sO5g/w640-h462/3700%20n%20pine%20grove.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3700 N. Pine Grove Avenue, Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The family consisted of Melvin (38 years old - he was 41), and Mabel (27). They said they were renting their apartment, had been married for seven years and had no children. Melvin said he was "Proprietor of a Photograph Gallery," and Mabel was the "Office Manager of a Photograph Gallery." Mabel said that this was her first marriage (which it was) and Melvin said this was also his first marriage when it was actually his third.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Melvin often featured photos of Mabel in his exhibits as indicated here in the Chicago Inter-Ocean from May 07, 1911:</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGFc7M3-VK0dT1B31J8QIdeOh1oOUAOCDq2ISqhlfGDY24yZorvG8WxiH7hp8M9Cb99j8hom5akNFMxtW_qiawHuA4VEiPgyUYOGecut-8SABRAP7Fv6XxH1Sw4E28_HJtTj6W7RWeS1_4rD1hLMNxsGjmPWwkHwTcu1OOxeqivgvzdnMDF2HRU99g2w/s5342/Sykes_Inter_Ocean_07_May_1911.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5342" data-original-width="2466" height="997" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGFc7M3-VK0dT1B31J8QIdeOh1oOUAOCDq2ISqhlfGDY24yZorvG8WxiH7hp8M9Cb99j8hom5akNFMxtW_qiawHuA4VEiPgyUYOGecut-8SABRAP7Fv6XxH1Sw4E28_HJtTj6W7RWeS1_4rD1hLMNxsGjmPWwkHwTcu1OOxeqivgvzdnMDF2HRU99g2w/w461-h997/Sykes_Inter_Ocean_07_May_1911.jpg" width="461" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="663" data-original-width="319" height="950" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOd2UYFA1RwKB0SNuf73ko6Uf4qcpMv_voIdRpNi38Z2iE2iakJ8U8PjFJjFpHW4GOzX29fjvl2U7RG8IXYiiO2H5NxJIyVU-mFk0U2z31Tc6Tj_1IaNkSDJEcy32aqRwn6Ah0MC1ci4YFNzIPim07oDMtZ1norKOKukLVjWiXxEqgTAhXWxdYwL4viw/w456-h950/1911-2.JPG" width="456" /></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and here from the Chicago Examiner newspaper of January 10, 1913:</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoeqd49FtZG1J-C0_AzI4yiFnHRtdObM1sUWgpxR33QlPPZsLbhA4aJ7DSe85r0_-E2t9kErFrnUu8_PFkVJI_dTJtD4L9uiXaAL6AQRtHeuDD-beQH6b2oEmCr5CvgEQFYa9nNkCyLygya-D6W6R6W-SsuTNX3IV5e1OICcOu285k4ai4wn9pLK2i3Q/s3802/Sykes_10_Jan_1913_Mabel_Leads_March_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3802" data-original-width="1762" height="1007" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoeqd49FtZG1J-C0_AzI4yiFnHRtdObM1sUWgpxR33QlPPZsLbhA4aJ7DSe85r0_-E2t9kErFrnUu8_PFkVJI_dTJtD4L9uiXaAL6AQRtHeuDD-beQH6b2oEmCr5CvgEQFYa9nNkCyLygya-D6W6R6W-SsuTNX3IV5e1OICcOu285k4ai4wn9pLK2i3Q/w466-h1007/Sykes_10_Jan_1913_Mabel_Leads_March_.jpg" width="466" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Although a success as a photographer, unfortunately Melvin Sykes had a roving eye. Mabel divorced him in April of 1914, but won the right to continue to use the name "Mabel Sykes" because she had been using that name professionally, as she built up a reputation as a photographer in her own right. </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;">After the divorce she set up a studio at 140 North State Street and went into business for herself, under the name of Mabel Sykes.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Going forward from their split, Melvin Sykes labelled his photos as "Photo by Sykes," whereas his former wife used "Photo by Mabel Sykes."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">One of the requirements of the Divorce Decree was that Melvin Sykes not remarry for a period of two years. But you can't stop love. Melvin Homer Sykes (1914-2005) was born in Chicago on March 23, 1914 even before Melvin Sr's marriage from Mabel Huxley Sykes was dissolved. His parents were Melvin H. Sykes, Sr. and Marguerite (sometimes referred to as "Margaret") Merker. In future years he reported his date of birth as March 23, 1915 instead of 1914.</span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Even though Melvin Hatcher Sykes was to refrain from remarrying for two years, that did not stop him. As I said you can't stop love, so on July 9, 1914 Melvin H. Sykes and Marguerite Merker went down to Logansport in Cass County, Indiana and were married. It was the first marriage for Miss Merker and the fourth marriage for Mr. Sykes - or was it? Let's take a look at the records for both the bride and the groom. First, the bride:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_CB9j-8i2Xv2pqNAa6ZFA9TvX18B4PvljplAVzXHyq5v_jas1Ff1AJ30EPjhOZtYDo8Wi2xtd9SsnyDMGkqtJ9ImG9iqtvFNBrOXvVtk4HfbXr6PVG1PNYTsRM5TDBdqtU70_0xhKvPLD1RdF75sMlvkv6navBCkyNi7DRAMohH2aCrkqQELYfFt5A/s460/1914%20Marriage%20Record.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="373" data-original-width="460" height="518" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_CB9j-8i2Xv2pqNAa6ZFA9TvX18B4PvljplAVzXHyq5v_jas1Ff1AJ30EPjhOZtYDo8Wi2xtd9SsnyDMGkqtJ9ImG9iqtvFNBrOXvVtk4HfbXr6PVG1PNYTsRM5TDBdqtU70_0xhKvPLD1RdF75sMlvkv6navBCkyNi7DRAMohH2aCrkqQELYfFt5A/w640-h518/1914%20Marriage%20Record.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The only questionable item on her part of the Marriage Record is her Date of Birth. She was born September 29, 1890, but reported it as 1893, so she shaved three years off her age - not the most serious of untrue statements. Let's see how Mr. Sykes' part of the record holds up to scrutiny:</span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-D1WEnaqyuvRXorJcLChw9KPYwYGkg1qY6KkqjIwiwMzvBykutMf5BNMfwItlm7CD7oD3w8dsDqBGvqg4zWAIWk1K3ZqNjOXIEKxrp5JhVOu73zuqxFsbDGTz900KCjCR1VIXCtlh4rbtsJNLCAtAig0Ho4mHi0Ayw8gL7MLCcHidU43tK_NSHFXFcQ/s441/1914%20marriage%20Record%20-%20Melvin%20Sykes.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="361" data-original-width="441" height="524" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-D1WEnaqyuvRXorJcLChw9KPYwYGkg1qY6KkqjIwiwMzvBykutMf5BNMfwItlm7CD7oD3w8dsDqBGvqg4zWAIWk1K3ZqNjOXIEKxrp5JhVOu73zuqxFsbDGTz900KCjCR1VIXCtlh4rbtsJNLCAtAig0Ho4mHi0Ayw8gL7MLCcHidU43tK_NSHFXFcQ/w640-h524/1914%20marriage%20Record%20-%20Melvin%20Sykes.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">First off: Marital Status: Widowed. Technically he was a widower from his first marriage to Mary Mahoney, but he had two marriages subsequent to that, both of which ended in divorce.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Birth Date: He said February 17, 1874. It was actually February 17, 1869, so he shaved five years off his age. He reported his Marriage Age as "40" when it was actually 45. Marguerite Merker must have known about Mabel Huxley Sykes - she and Melvin were in business together. Do you suppose he ever told her about the second Mrs. Sykes: Rose Neel?</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">The article at the beginning of this story is from the Chicago Tribune dated August 27, 1914. Among other things, the article claims that Melvin H. Sykes has proposed to yet another girl, seventeen year old Helen Daegling. Here are the pertinent parts of the Tribune article concerning Mr. Sykes and Miss Daegling:</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Meets Schoolgirl.</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Mr. Sykes met Miss Daegling when she came home from school with Mary Sykes, his daughter.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>"He took a fancy to my little girl," said Mrs. Daegling, "and he raved over her beauty and took her pictures."</i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>One of these photographs was awarded first prize at a photographers' exhibition in Peoria last July.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Sykes showered flowers and candy upon Miss Daegling, who is five years younger than his daughter, and took her for automobile rides. Miss Daegling told about it last night.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>"I was engaged to him," she said, "and <b>he gave me a diamond ring and introduced me as his future wife."</b></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Gives Back the Ring.</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><i>"I liked him quite a bit, and we had some good times together. But mama and my other relations didn't like him. They said he was a bad man and begged me to give him up. I finally came to see they were right, so I gave him back his ring and broke the engagement.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Mr. Sykes denied that he even knew Miss Daegling when a reporter questioned him about the affair.</i></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So, during the time he was fathering a child with, and then marrying Marguerite Merker he was courting Helen Daegling "just in case." He told Helen he was "a widower," which of course he was, but he neglected to mention his two subsequent marriages: to Miss Rose Neel and Miss Mabel Huxley, both of which ended in divorce.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Melvin Hatcher Sykes and Marguerite Merker Sykes were blessed with a second son, Homer Melvin Sykes (1916-1993) who was born in Evanston, Illinois on March 9, 1916. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There were some questions as to the validity of the marriage of Melvin Sykes to Marguerite Merker. The Divorce Decree from his marriage to Mabel Huxley had forbidden him from remarrying for a period of two years. Just to clear up any potential problems they decided to get married again - this time in Illinois. So, on April 17, 1916 Melvin Hatcher Sykes re-married Marguerite Merker</span><span style="font-size: large;">, as reported in the Chicago Tribune of March 18, 1916:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfO7Vr7akLusQv3dnijTJANUzc43IaJISKOym3NMQV-qVKfurfCHQtpXuSmLK18SVys6E0gqZoyJRwQsj3nTNvLN0vhuR_ZIwdS_D9fxBdSuzSI6mVTP2jFfsADfO7aCQ1WYDRRo5EbM5SkGtVb6LvVVH6DT3RtFo2GLve16ziIV2L9yNFjIPR_dlYDA/s5036/Sykes_Marries_Merker_Again_Tribune_18_Apr_1916.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5036" data-original-width="1542" height="1875" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfO7Vr7akLusQv3dnijTJANUzc43IaJISKOym3NMQV-qVKfurfCHQtpXuSmLK18SVys6E0gqZoyJRwQsj3nTNvLN0vhuR_ZIwdS_D9fxBdSuzSI6mVTP2jFfsADfO7aCQ1WYDRRo5EbM5SkGtVb6LvVVH6DT3RtFo2GLve16ziIV2L9yNFjIPR_dlYDA/w574-h1875/Sykes_Marries_Merker_Again_Tribune_18_Apr_1916.jpg" width="574" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Life went on for Melvin Sykes and his family. Melvin continued to run his photography studio but added something to his advertisements. This ad is from the Chicago Eagle newspaper from July 14, 1917:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyo2cBVO5fydKZNtVMhM4k0j_xalDdHtYXAbH8x1dlir1YRcGZ7-NvAU7kLYa2cKHjK0Q0ai9p0plvXWUE-1m5tk7opmIr4ag5gIKbCoxInH_qljObsD0TGr-alSid33gw3sNwo24yTAJKxWAOxhyziCHxesSCPDAxBiF_zYNPiz48HUWfGARqHlkCyQ/s464/Sykes%20-%20Original%20and%20Only%20Chgo%20Eagle%20-%2014%20Jul%201917.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="265" data-original-width="464" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyo2cBVO5fydKZNtVMhM4k0j_xalDdHtYXAbH8x1dlir1YRcGZ7-NvAU7kLYa2cKHjK0Q0ai9p0plvXWUE-1m5tk7opmIr4ag5gIKbCoxInH_qljObsD0TGr-alSid33gw3sNwo24yTAJKxWAOxhyziCHxesSCPDAxBiF_zYNPiz48HUWfGARqHlkCyQ/w400-h229/Sykes%20-%20Original%20and%20Only%20Chgo%20Eagle%20-%2014%20Jul%201917.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As you can see, he added "The original and only Sykes making pictures in Chicago."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;">By 1919, Melvin Sykes and his family had had enough of Chicago, so they moved to Los Angeles, California.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1920 US Census finds them living in a house at 1712 West 39th Street in Los Angeles:</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqpQ_dUqGI_MsGuaktiu1jOJnjF1-uVTDQDE-oovM3SHKFmE6jlo1Tx0NMfRZZ7FiPbYmIN5hn2uCA2fYny_dQljd7SC-F94n7JGQkr5BMuhM0ZinaDfBBEdmcjtamEJi5n85Qny_1qHUAyqmbhS_JMpnnjLXJzSVDZNM_HDhWz40MSPHM6kWrZazeA/s444/1712%20W.%2039th%20Street%20LA.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="308" data-original-width="444" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqpQ_dUqGI_MsGuaktiu1jOJnjF1-uVTDQDE-oovM3SHKFmE6jlo1Tx0NMfRZZ7FiPbYmIN5hn2uCA2fYny_dQljd7SC-F94n7JGQkr5BMuhM0ZinaDfBBEdmcjtamEJi5n85Qny_1qHUAyqmbhS_JMpnnjLXJzSVDZNM_HDhWz40MSPHM6kWrZazeA/w400-h278/1712%20W.%2039th%20Street%20LA.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1712 W. 39th Street, Los Angeles, California</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The family consisted of Melvin (44 years old - he was 50), Margaret (30), "daughter" Melvin H. (4 6/12 - he was 6) and son Homer (3 0/12 - he was 4). Melvin said he was a "Photographer."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Life for Melvin Sykes quieted down quite a bit once he and his family settled in Los Angeles. He still occasionally showed up in the newspaper in connection with his photography like this from the Los Angeles Times of January 28, 1922:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRDVaqROfZ1djTqCcwz7fxW_GjMzF8FA1n0gU8eT5AlfGgt-bkl__jD8BH3SyuyMr-WYa-InMt8mJkCyWwXe6VJmTAOR_9IQwYemy-DLRfJNQPSIiDu1qJeRkV5-_JCEsZmuvsRP-BB3E-d0TGhXvjN15tF-OArh7dNCcbd9gC5NuXccp5PHWdJTgjuQ/s356/LA%20Times%2028%20Jan%201922.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="245" data-original-width="356" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRDVaqROfZ1djTqCcwz7fxW_GjMzF8FA1n0gU8eT5AlfGgt-bkl__jD8BH3SyuyMr-WYa-InMt8mJkCyWwXe6VJmTAOR_9IQwYemy-DLRfJNQPSIiDu1qJeRkV5-_JCEsZmuvsRP-BB3E-d0TGhXvjN15tF-OArh7dNCcbd9gC5NuXccp5PHWdJTgjuQ/w400-h275/LA%20Times%2028%20Jan%201922.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">or this from the L.A. Evening Express of March 4, 1922:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEife9F5let-32zvBagiUJD_v5T0miHV2EQZs9T645V52T-MESQK2qbeGVxR1zgcU0qDaqwtWRHwwfp2njjYlI35BKLcxOmcp7KOXw0TAqe2UgbM__gl36J5SXD4U9kKLqMZpylwbjDaAF8oRZpkG1xahW76fV5MswTCis9pUfDf6nVcoJ9QfHKTfqJ0gA/s293/LA%20Evening%20Express%2004%20Mar%201922.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="223" data-original-width="293" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEife9F5let-32zvBagiUJD_v5T0miHV2EQZs9T645V52T-MESQK2qbeGVxR1zgcU0qDaqwtWRHwwfp2njjYlI35BKLcxOmcp7KOXw0TAqe2UgbM__gl36J5SXD4U9kKLqMZpylwbjDaAF8oRZpkG1xahW76fV5MswTCis9pUfDf6nVcoJ9QfHKTfqJ0gA/w400-h304/LA%20Evening%20Express%2004%20Mar%201922.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">His studio was in the Brack Shops Building at 527 W. 7th Street in downtown Los Angeles.</span><br /> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgunC_NAtdhQtMlnVMaQLHxnUCgh5Z-EfJaSwOrHoZsRY1miqztVxRpjmmwebdpLzMzhT8ZIBF9Go8xvEUlwCpFYEyetCvah_Ipl-WPYrCsOrAAxp98aW7zCZSkxa4JFq4bamKgY1oy9cjHi66engmhEQpiOj52tZMPv_6n_Be67pB4OT3XtgQfNnWAg/s699/Braxck%20Shops%20Building.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="699" data-original-width="292" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgunC_NAtdhQtMlnVMaQLHxnUCgh5Z-EfJaSwOrHoZsRY1miqztVxRpjmmwebdpLzMzhT8ZIBF9Go8xvEUlwCpFYEyetCvah_Ipl-WPYrCsOrAAxp98aW7zCZSkxa4JFq4bamKgY1oy9cjHi66engmhEQpiOj52tZMPv_6n_Be67pB4OT3XtgQfNnWAg/w268-h640/Braxck%20Shops%20Building.JPG" width="268" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">In the late 1920s Melvin Sykes and his family left Los Angeles and relocated to San Diego. The 1930 US Census found the Sykes family living at 4620 Mission Avenue in San Diego:</span></div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6JNjRNtNZ4wfhBRwYtMrlRrt13uAKeE2xym6AwRw4Yte0e9W-vLjRk5XYPB__hsx-oFhTLBbBqFIOfYhAkZHz4cG5PTNpuUT29GyyTYR68qt4qe6wie6IdO_ErZMvdEMBahISdOMgFHf6vlLNWAOC8qUocap6kiIatsytv34-koEg4E9MoWY1sAdNbw/s570/4620%20Mission%20Avenue%20San%20Diego.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="570" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6JNjRNtNZ4wfhBRwYtMrlRrt13uAKeE2xym6AwRw4Yte0e9W-vLjRk5XYPB__hsx-oFhTLBbBqFIOfYhAkZHz4cG5PTNpuUT29GyyTYR68qt4qe6wie6IdO_ErZMvdEMBahISdOMgFHf6vlLNWAOC8qUocap6kiIatsytv34-koEg4E9MoWY1sAdNbw/w640-h478/4620%20Mission%20Avenue%20San%20Diego.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4620 Mission Avenue, San Diego, California</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The family consisted of Melvin (54 - he was 61), Margaret (36 - she was 40), Melvin H., Jr. (15 - he was 16), and Homer M. (13 - he was 14). They were renting their home for $40.00 per month. They did own a radio. For "Age at First Marriage" Melvin and Margaret both said 19. Melvin was 21 at the time of his first marriage; Margaret was 23. Melvin listed his occupation as "Portrait Photographer." Margaret said she was an "Office Clerk" in a "Photo Shop." Their sons were at school. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Melvin Sykes and his entire family did make the newspapers in 1933 when they provided the alibi for a self-confessed murderer in the Dalbert Aposhian murder case:</span></div><div><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghqDSIt1wcAtecEzXHD0L-DUukN90QQJdLedHgWFuBOqqqN986QiabFAUdUAOLe4KZWRosYJVJKh-Rlf9xO1Evbwrv37eAFYi9M72phlWitagjE9JXPbKC9RhpmDZNANkeStaiq2un_HJt1ThkySpTejREE4v9hXAhyB0yl0gUEdZ2s4zaH6CC-dQatw/s5282/Sykes_family_alibi_04_Aug_1933_Fresno_Bee_.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5282" data-original-width="630" height="5534" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghqDSIt1wcAtecEzXHD0L-DUukN90QQJdLedHgWFuBOqqqN986QiabFAUdUAOLe4KZWRosYJVJKh-Rlf9xO1Evbwrv37eAFYi9M72phlWitagjE9JXPbKC9RhpmDZNANkeStaiq2un_HJt1ThkySpTejREE4v9hXAhyB0yl0gUEdZ2s4zaH6CC-dQatw/w660-h5534/Sykes_family_alibi_04_Aug_1933_Fresno_Bee_.jpg" width="660" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1940 US Census shows now "empty nesters" Melvin and Margaret Sykes still living in the same house at 4620 Mission Avenue in San Diego. They said they now owned the house and it was worth $3,100 ($66,000 in today's funds). Melvin said he was 71 years old (he actually <u>was</u> 71!!!), Margaret said she was 45 (she was 50). Melvin said the farthest he had gone in school was the 3rd grade; Margaret had one year of college. They both listed their occupations as "Photographer," but their Income as $0. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Melvin Hatcher Sykes died June 22, 1949. He was eighty years old. Here is his obituary from the San Diego (CA) Union from June 24, 1949:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wHgu9ix_QrIgfZyogos4H0cxcOp4WgbbAYgLPA6oI05XKPcBQHi6mmETzUVdo89A66W-Q-ENUAnvi_aY879P7or82Kk2ezqfzqCYikn0z0uWNl-vo8OFZCbYk_tEX3ZvC73LslH7v7QlSP-H1Kl4KGW8zIVWBhjo4SkZtjvq4HQRkQ4KPd5XqIOR1w/s814/Sykes%20Photo%20from%20Obit.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="814" data-original-width="398" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wHgu9ix_QrIgfZyogos4H0cxcOp4WgbbAYgLPA6oI05XKPcBQHi6mmETzUVdo89A66W-Q-ENUAnvi_aY879P7or82Kk2ezqfzqCYikn0z0uWNl-vo8OFZCbYk_tEX3ZvC73LslH7v7QlSP-H1Kl4KGW8zIVWBhjo4SkZtjvq4HQRkQ4KPd5XqIOR1w/w196-h400/Sykes%20Photo%20from%20Obit.png" width="196" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_XnjKNoq98b6sB-XgtFBRW1NRNO9eQiVUrJXhQ24UxUjIQJA5By2gjSHRczPqksUHhRbE0-4_pW1Slp18T20CgsQr01fq4_nDBwMATKk1y0-DGF2ifPVcVmzFxyb07k9PhqfjkhoEeXEIwm7wML1DHFqJylcrSA9pRx90C8_B2g3nltnQJhDCNTrOjw/s1414/Sykes%20Obit.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1414" data-original-width="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_XnjKNoq98b6sB-XgtFBRW1NRNO9eQiVUrJXhQ24UxUjIQJA5By2gjSHRczPqksUHhRbE0-4_pW1Slp18T20CgsQr01fq4_nDBwMATKk1y0-DGF2ifPVcVmzFxyb07k9PhqfjkhoEeXEIwm7wML1DHFqJylcrSA9pRx90C8_B2g3nltnQJhDCNTrOjw/s16000/Sykes%20Obit.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Survivors are two sons...and four grandchildren." Where was his wife Marguerite? She didn't die until 1977. Had they separated between the 1940 Census and 1949? It appears they had. There is also no mention of his two children from his first marriage. I could not find the death record for his son Henry S. Sykes, but his daughter Mamie did not die until 1982.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Melvin Sykes was buried in the Mount Hope Cemetery in San Diego:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFW6bmgeiKEW0ATSO42Zrn_5aZ1PsqyMcYDF30N19OP2qnrhA0h9Lef1CMMfMTb81GVVzQXk3VQYVYpd6ozWspiVHWkKBESNNMn1C2LDeDvgs9uW3s5qkwUlyv6VPrqJmuA7Qru7kauXtsLDIvS2vHBT4JCTHlxagKFu5VmLOeXRqUEGrCXKTxPCl3zw/s2356/Sykes,%20Melvin%20Tombstone.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2356" data-original-width="2222" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFW6bmgeiKEW0ATSO42Zrn_5aZ1PsqyMcYDF30N19OP2qnrhA0h9Lef1CMMfMTb81GVVzQXk3VQYVYpd6ozWspiVHWkKBESNNMn1C2LDeDvgs9uW3s5qkwUlyv6VPrqJmuA7Qru7kauXtsLDIvS2vHBT4JCTHlxagKFu5VmLOeXRqUEGrCXKTxPCl3zw/w378-h400/Sykes,%20Melvin%20Tombstone.jpeg" width="378" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">When Marguerite Merker Sykes died in 1977 she was not buried next to Melvin - she was buried in Greenwood Memorial Park in San Diego. </span><span style="text-align: left;">Was her correct first name "Marguerite" or "Margaret?" We may never know because her tombstone says "Marge."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnmstkriazOE5PGWFnEQvCkFHrWW9AcprRuv5NvubDwS4mekHq8TmeXz6XDHA0eIxMbABeZQ92I3M3K-FLaS-P87YZImbia12WWxPBH2ruTtUyDsYhX_onfr_HLIrUyHj-gxLH_pIW3dfDOfsOqD3LXS1wIvEx7Pqn35Ze9GGAMSsCMKydbptgmUDYoA/s795/Sykes,%20Marge.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="795" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnmstkriazOE5PGWFnEQvCkFHrWW9AcprRuv5NvubDwS4mekHq8TmeXz6XDHA0eIxMbABeZQ92I3M3K-FLaS-P87YZImbia12WWxPBH2ruTtUyDsYhX_onfr_HLIrUyHj-gxLH_pIW3dfDOfsOqD3LXS1wIvEx7Pqn35Ze9GGAMSsCMKydbptgmUDYoA/w400-h228/Sykes,%20Marge.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">A friend of mine died several years ago. She said about herself, "I liked men and men liked me." I think that sentiment would be appropriate for Melvin Sykes as well.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Melvin Hatcher Sykes - he liked women and women liked him. May he rest in peace. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-43312936985125011172023-03-01T05:17:00.000-08:002023-03-01T05:17:03.448-08:00HE BUILT MY BOYHOOD HOME - Bernard Adam Prusener<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Most of us live in many different places over the course of our lives. My mother was unusual in that she lived her entire life in Evanston, Illinois, within about a two mile radius. Today that is almost unheard of. Each one of us has our own opinion of what constitutes "home." For most people it is the place where they grew up; where they lived with their parents and siblings. Near the end of her life as dementia was slowly taking over her brain, my mother announced one evening that she wanted to "go home." "But you are home," I replied. "You live here with me in the house I bought across the street from where we used to live." "No, I want to go home - home with my mother and father and brothers and sisters." Unfortunately that was not possible - her parents had been dead for many years and most of her siblings were gone by this time, also. In fact, her girlhood home, 1008 Sherman Avenue in Evanston, no longer existed - it had been condemned and razed by the City of Evanston in 1955 to expand the playground of Nichols Middle School.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">No matter where I live on this earth, "home" to me will always be 1027 Harvard Terrace in Evanston:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-gdnfdqZNx2MrtiVCQyIVTmeAt91Iyr7pRQ9fI354PUPzvNATIrAH1Nd0oE3DAMCDx2z2bVWgz4KlGl9UhbCNb7_UVjG-zMJoB3WtNkSViiRLk2Zm5c3EBlRQUad_Jx0wNnJyNPDLiRxlfD6GGzGw8S4V5Lza8bXzgdA1OYvuqQ9WzYyAnurCaohSQ/s1339/1027%20Harvard%20B&W.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="790" data-original-width="1339" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-gdnfdqZNx2MrtiVCQyIVTmeAt91Iyr7pRQ9fI354PUPzvNATIrAH1Nd0oE3DAMCDx2z2bVWgz4KlGl9UhbCNb7_UVjG-zMJoB3WtNkSViiRLk2Zm5c3EBlRQUad_Jx0wNnJyNPDLiRxlfD6GGzGw8S4V5Lza8bXzgdA1OYvuqQ9WzYyAnurCaohSQ/w400-h236/1027%20Harvard%20B&W.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1027 Harvard Terrace, Evanston, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I have talked about this neighborhood and its origins in a previous post:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://undereverytombstone.blogspot.com/2012/02/he-called-his-estate-major-edward.html">https://undereverytombstone.blogspot.com/2012/02/he-called-his-estate-major-edward.html</a></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">A few years ago I decided to check into the history of my boyhood home. </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I knew that most of the houses in this neighborhood were built in the early 1920s and many of them had been built by the same builders. On a trip to the Evanston Historical Society I found an application for a permit to build a house at 1027 Harvard:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLnKopFEsva7SGQW7cclsYU07uNIW849XnAZiY8cAjp0eEIIfleJbfsVkqqPBUFOIXmZdy2ih4OSYf_z8GXpbAYuLkYPQ3O0rpOAFPX6SJq9ATY1xLglIMH1OgKw8nCTstFTDddNQi9QLacgo40JdADRHogPYkTuxrfqfzpZ9BGHk3hnAxMoutfjl4RQ/s2770/App%20for%20Building%20Permit%201027.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2770" data-original-width="1891" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLnKopFEsva7SGQW7cclsYU07uNIW849XnAZiY8cAjp0eEIIfleJbfsVkqqPBUFOIXmZdy2ih4OSYf_z8GXpbAYuLkYPQ3O0rpOAFPX6SJq9ATY1xLglIMH1OgKw8nCTstFTDddNQi9QLacgo40JdADRHogPYkTuxrfqfzpZ9BGHk3hnAxMoutfjl4RQ/w436-h640/App%20for%20Building%20Permit%201027.jpg" width="436" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">the Permit itself was issued on October 13, 1921:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwq2rwVuUpyK7K-3PB8-oTXXIMN-3EOYspdDNi_mZyLUpqxqBKGW2rBeaf8lwBJtwTtixOTx1qvtv75e054GqTwZVC8D9GC2U4AtqbOYdOZRpY6JcUlplFEw6IQqrvpmlh1sTV7PW59AW5OESgasScesASNZgvCILxK9U71eH-Btw973OPJNWJpuWW_w/s3112/Building%20Permit%201027%20Harvard%20-%201921%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3112" data-original-width="2415" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwq2rwVuUpyK7K-3PB8-oTXXIMN-3EOYspdDNi_mZyLUpqxqBKGW2rBeaf8lwBJtwTtixOTx1qvtv75e054GqTwZVC8D9GC2U4AtqbOYdOZRpY6JcUlplFEw6IQqrvpmlh1sTV7PW59AW5OESgasScesASNZgvCILxK9U71eH-Btw973OPJNWJpuWW_w/w496-h640/Building%20Permit%201027%20Harvard%20-%201921%20(3).jpg" width="496" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The application shows a value for the house not to exceed $7,300.00 ($121,500.00 in today's funds). Of course these figures do not include the cost of the land. The owner's name was Bernard Prusener. What could I find out about him? Let's take a closer look at his life.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Bernard Adam Prusener was born January 21, 1878 in Chicago to Bernard Prusener (1840-1890) and Anna Maria Catherina "Katie" Fils (1839-1900). </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The last name was sometimes spelled </span><span>"Prusener," sometimes </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Prusner," sometimes "Pruesener," and sometimes "Prüsener." </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Bernard Prusener and Katie Fils were both born in Nettesheim, Germany. They married in Nettesheim on June 13, 1865, after which they emigrated to the United States, settling in Chicago. </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Bernard Prusener worked for the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad but ultimately went on to own and manage a "Saloon" at 56 Fleetwood Street (now Magnolia Avenue) in Chicago.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Bernard and Katie were blessed with three children: Gertrude Prusener/Mrs. Anthony Delfosse (1870-1941), Jacob Hubert Prusener (1873-1949), and Bernard Adam Prusener (1878-1942). </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Bernard Prusener (the father) died on December 26, 1890 in Chicago. He was fifty years old. He was buried in St. Boniface Cemetery in Chicago.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Bernard Adam Prusener makes his first appearance in the 1900 US Census. The family was living at 748 (now 1529) North Ashland Avenue in Chicago. A building built in 1998 occupies that spot today. The family consisted of Katie Prusner (61 years old), son Bernard (22) and "Boarder" Helminia K. Prusner (32). </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There are unfortunately several things about what was reported to the census taker that don't add up. First of all, Katie Prusner reported that she had given birth to one child, and that child was still alive in 1900. This is obviously incorrect because Gertrude didn't die until 1941 and Jacob until 1949. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Furthermore, other than this census record, there is no record anywhere of anyone named "Helminia K. Prusner." The census taker interviewed Katie Prusner on June 4, 1900; she died on July 19, 1900. Perhaps she was confused by what the census taker was asking.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">On a happier note, Bernard Adam Prusener married Rose Louise Yoblonski on May 15, 1901 at Holy Trinity Catholic Church in Chicago. Rose's last name was sometimes spelled "Yoblonski," sometimes "Yablonski" and sometimes "Jablonski." </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">The groom was twenty-three years old; the bride was twenty-one. Rose Yoblonski was born March 1, 1880 in Carmel, Pennsylvania to Francis Jablonski and </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span>Anastazia Peszkoski. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDa-2W5eF9ENGZbtpWCOAwgdCAGTrD04mqIsQQiWdi9ntvRt8MeyoIGMWOtB8wzL8Smru1QVDrK2d8gYsQcDO4Ua79haxe95Wx2ySU90GlqOU0WJfYLUJ8duo0-0KJUqI0Z0BVHzV-81cC5LoLTw28IwjtkB0AjS1HSLBqnYWxtNGpLqGJ1k7GIM7TzA/s667/holy-trinity-roman-catholic-church-chicago-ceeca2d4-ddc7-4b9d-b104-41647bc9f22-resize-750.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="650" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDa-2W5eF9ENGZbtpWCOAwgdCAGTrD04mqIsQQiWdi9ntvRt8MeyoIGMWOtB8wzL8Smru1QVDrK2d8gYsQcDO4Ua79haxe95Wx2ySU90GlqOU0WJfYLUJ8duo0-0KJUqI0Z0BVHzV-81cC5LoLTw28IwjtkB0AjS1HSLBqnYWxtNGpLqGJ1k7GIM7TzA/w390-h400/holy-trinity-roman-catholic-church-chicago-ceeca2d4-ddc7-4b9d-b104-41647bc9f22-resize-750.jpg" width="390" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holy Trinity Catholic Church, Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">After their marriage, Bernard and Rose lived at 131 (now 2227) W. Barry Avenue in Chicago:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7rkbxN0UojkEbB74TWXMjKrEy4bPHQHJuEWs1aqc6oViEzhL85s1fSWF_WFnCsG58nA1JxjTVejnx6weu8PWkW4VfmRREn5kWe95_eURyQ0cjH_YlXcf2IQx4LZ1d_ZN4UkCR1FC5M16oZRlfOpgQ5vwvPOcV6FLmSVT4dxr4LhvxptcSSUdYuwHNxg/s449/2227%20W.%20Barry%20Chicago.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="449" data-original-width="385" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7rkbxN0UojkEbB74TWXMjKrEy4bPHQHJuEWs1aqc6oViEzhL85s1fSWF_WFnCsG58nA1JxjTVejnx6weu8PWkW4VfmRREn5kWe95_eURyQ0cjH_YlXcf2IQx4LZ1d_ZN4UkCR1FC5M16oZRlfOpgQ5vwvPOcV6FLmSVT4dxr4LhvxptcSSUdYuwHNxg/w343-h400/2227%20W.%20Barry%20Chicago.JPG" width="343" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2227 W. Barry, Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br />Bernard and Rose were blessed with two children: Dorothy Prusener/Mrs. William F. Blades (1902-1966), and Harry Howard Prusener (1906-1983). </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dorothy was born February 28, 1902 in Chicago. She was baptized at Holy Trinity Catholic Church in Chicago on March 16, 1902. Her godparents were Laurence Lubinski and Anastasia Jablonska.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Harry was born September 25, 1906 also in Chicago. He was also baptized at Holy Trinity on October 14, 1906. His godparents were Jacob Prusener and Mary Gobryk.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1910 US Census shows the Prusener Family living at 2143 W. Barry in Chicago. A building built in 2015 occupies that spot today. The family consisted of "Bernhard" (32 years old), Rose (30), Dorothy (8) and Harry (3). Bernhard and Rose said they had been married for nine years, and that it was the first marriage for both. Bernhard said he was a "Bricklayer" in the "Building" Trade, and that he worked for himself. He was not out of work on April 15, 1910, and that he worked for the entire year of 1909. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">By 1914 the family had moved again - this time to 3917 N. Sawyer in Chicago:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5T6HuwUII6m1rr6lkcw_F3xJ0I1vWhpudQk2NDRe0WK0s7rBu3wCALNReLjQV9H6VUhqP9hwHuT3UBXfo_8eaPR4q0Kmue_mv7zB7Zjn44qgFH6JwfYvw7n9ZwhGoN19Imea1Sq_Bd3ZbRNHWLQj9fQNgHEY0V-rp734fXVbDKzUvCXswVp-Dd5wtQ/s446/3917%20N.%20Sawyer%20Chicago.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="446" data-original-width="430" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5T6HuwUII6m1rr6lkcw_F3xJ0I1vWhpudQk2NDRe0WK0s7rBu3wCALNReLjQV9H6VUhqP9hwHuT3UBXfo_8eaPR4q0Kmue_mv7zB7Zjn44qgFH6JwfYvw7n9ZwhGoN19Imea1Sq_Bd3ZbRNHWLQj9fQNgHEY0V-rp734fXVbDKzUvCXswVp-Dd5wtQ/w386-h400/3917%20N.%20Sawyer%20Chicago.JPG" width="386" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3917 N. Sawyer, Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">In 1917 Bernard Prusener moved his family into the two-flat building at 4431 N. Spaulding Avenue in Chicago. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="444" data-original-width="371" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitQ2bwPSLVSofIPLowLlTTn5-35r-mWEXvKLn3UA3caxiBs9z9IPUsnTLQQcfINsGnsZOB3bXCeZDLXZ2KKXAOHQrvONDZBkfdm9zi-jbKFW0bWlV7nM7GCtLFmGYsZOMkF_psHNaRmpc8iwwBHT96hMpc0-8EKVRLRdjubDI2zmI8NIcl3OrAnvzAQQ/w334-h400/4431%20Spaulding.JPG" width="334" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4431 N. Spaulding Avenue, Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">During this period, Bernard Prusener reported his occupation as "Bricklayer."</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On September 12, 1918, Bernard Prusener registered for the Draft. He reported his address as 4431 N. Spaulding, and that he was forty years old. He was a Bricklayer for Jacob H. Prusener (his brother) at 3811 N. Lawndale in Chicago. His nearest relative was his wife Rose, at the Spaulding address. The Registrar reported that his Build and Height were "Medium," that his eyes were "Brown" and his hair was "Lt. Brown." He had no impediments to his being able to serve in the military if called.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1920 US Census taken January 12, 1920, shows Bernard Prusener and family still living at 4431 N. Spaulding. the family consisted of Bernard (42 years old), wife "Roes" (40), and children Dorothy (18) and Harry (13). They owned their home, and they had a mortgage on it. Bernard said he was a "Bricklayer" in the "House" industry. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On November 16, 1920, Bernard and Rose's daughter Dorothy married William Frederick Blades (1884-1962) in Chicago. The bride was eighteen; the groom was thirty-six. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">William F. Blades was born in 1884 in Sheffield, Yorkshire, England. He emigrated to the- United States in 1909 where he reported that he was a "Mason." In March of 1914 he returned to England to marry married Sarah Anna "Sally" Hazelwood (1889-1917) in Sheffield. Immediately after their marriage William Blades brought his bride to Chicago. They had one son, Wilfred Blades (1915-2002) who was born on February 20, 1915 in Chicago. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sadly, Sally Hazelwood Blades died September 5, 1917 in Oak Forest, Illinois. She was 28 years old. She was buried September 9, 1917 in Montrose Cemetery in Chicago:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-G13755VXygmkBnywNRbMmTy0z8A3ePuw_uQ7ZBlAtJMSTcAzpYP0dPHVP40Bb21Jx5FufOWa4QdKwYJGD-uKjeuxJ3mR1PmgYO218Sh0_e9tpOZYizeTOVx6XcuGRatPIzx-bQWDCt-mWhltawx4XB1fOvP7JfMXFiJIhcR7iDUEWffQRyIjY4mk6A/s3507/Blades,%20Sally.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1645" data-original-width="3507" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-G13755VXygmkBnywNRbMmTy0z8A3ePuw_uQ7ZBlAtJMSTcAzpYP0dPHVP40Bb21Jx5FufOWa4QdKwYJGD-uKjeuxJ3mR1PmgYO218Sh0_e9tpOZYizeTOVx6XcuGRatPIzx-bQWDCt-mWhltawx4XB1fOvP7JfMXFiJIhcR7iDUEWffQRyIjY4mk6A/w573-h269/Blades,%20Sally.jpg" width="573" /></a></div><br /> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am sure that in the course of his work as a bricklayer, Bernard Prusener heard about the tremendous opportunities available for builders in South Evanston. The North Shore Line commuter railroad was adding to their routes by building a rail extension from the Howard Street station into downtown Skokie. The new tracks would go right through South Evanston and there would be commuter stations on Ridge Avenue, Asbury Avenue and Dodge Avenue. It was even advertised in the local newspapers as "You Can Get Rich Here" and "Follow the "L" to Fortune." This is from the <i>Evanston News-Index</i> of April 18, 1924:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQrRPgassNxtP0P4iPtdRO--UpPxRi4d44NxZ-LEX6PjvXjsApKkMYh09BDbGdKNxBSWhXdpZv87D3bVUearzJfVIV4QeSt7P_v24tkVqDwH2D2_RKm4TpDfP6Jhr0mtSVPF1UbW35q_YxQplySo2X53IEJNA6ngpQrBSxxpx5iBKCh6Tpy3IBF1e6WQ/s1600/You%20Can%20Get%20Rich%20Here.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1160" height="841" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQrRPgassNxtP0P4iPtdRO--UpPxRi4d44NxZ-LEX6PjvXjsApKkMYh09BDbGdKNxBSWhXdpZv87D3bVUearzJfVIV4QeSt7P_v24tkVqDwH2D2_RKm4TpDfP6Jhr0mtSVPF1UbW35q_YxQplySo2X53IEJNA6ngpQrBSxxpx5iBKCh6Tpy3IBF1e6WQ/w609-h841/You%20Can%20Get%20Rich%20Here.jpg" width="609" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">1027 Harvard Terrace was the first of nine single family homes Bernard Pruesener built between 1921 and 1925 in what is now the Oakton Historic District in South Evanston. Here are the nine houses Prusener built in chronological order:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY7TRlDd2BoMQTRPzjOWxZkoTJfv0U1mynszX13TSimSboLI3klwXPjT0RFHGtnacJBaptfBfCJ-pHm8JEo1mPYdyxm7-UT79-QhFIDGdOuPcMO7hGguZYHtegPf7gWMwlXn7h-N1aLXSI_YidQuDnW7TL4OcKAQi_8mpqvoQPCJqB2WT2oTBAZhMuPw/s664/Prusener%20-%201027%20Harvard.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="664" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY7TRlDd2BoMQTRPzjOWxZkoTJfv0U1mynszX13TSimSboLI3klwXPjT0RFHGtnacJBaptfBfCJ-pHm8JEo1mPYdyxm7-UT79-QhFIDGdOuPcMO7hGguZYHtegPf7gWMwlXn7h-N1aLXSI_YidQuDnW7TL4OcKAQi_8mpqvoQPCJqB2WT2oTBAZhMuPw/w400-h268/Prusener%20-%201027%20Harvard.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1027 Harvard</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzm5lN8XnbfvN6HgBOBJ8hud8R0TtIJkG9Q1e2U95PsX9jNLHwk6CEc_saok6JKNO0iB6g3V7kvB6jbNurPM89FhaSBrrVGjVMX18yoXzG7GvFV64re4P1wmR5UeYNPdP-S-KuAbIHzS1P1r_rfts6u_v0FyYcq-mRUY6TJYFVS-1p7GeRfP_1d5m4pA/s665/Prusener%20-%201103%20Harvard.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="441" data-original-width="665" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzm5lN8XnbfvN6HgBOBJ8hud8R0TtIJkG9Q1e2U95PsX9jNLHwk6CEc_saok6JKNO0iB6g3V7kvB6jbNurPM89FhaSBrrVGjVMX18yoXzG7GvFV64re4P1wmR5UeYNPdP-S-KuAbIHzS1P1r_rfts6u_v0FyYcq-mRUY6TJYFVS-1p7GeRfP_1d5m4pA/w400-h265/Prusener%20-%201103%20Harvard.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1103 Harvard</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggSGY4T6T5d8gD_1zWhnNQpjes1El4ibpBD1botEchoxoQlAkBKypDATqbKp9TYth1jpKbEzNyHt-_y5Ek_VDQIo0Lm8TlpWy0I5fANJBny8k0m3mGlS-q0NgN75aqHT8ToavPjTjqEl-xdsCeSZT7zdCHEoMv4gFAOFq0vKfXIKHrCS4gLm9FuwdsNQ/s667/Prusener%20-%201104%20Harvard.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="667" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggSGY4T6T5d8gD_1zWhnNQpjes1El4ibpBD1botEchoxoQlAkBKypDATqbKp9TYth1jpKbEzNyHt-_y5Ek_VDQIo0Lm8TlpWy0I5fANJBny8k0m3mGlS-q0NgN75aqHT8ToavPjTjqEl-xdsCeSZT7zdCHEoMv4gFAOFq0vKfXIKHrCS4gLm9FuwdsNQ/w400-h266/Prusener%20-%201104%20Harvard.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1104 Harvard</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_a4LUcACRsFT1zD0dyFwPAINTie0eHHmYpVqLKF_N383b6v1Y1w_4Hty1kSFqYmUYfbDipIjQJX_xAFlz12Py-abs8gHBq1pEVVC8qFU9vsAohMmjHhHGUEwgYtmSfkFEJjR50GHaYejyvFFwzszmYXt7jQ3scHle8H4qB-sWT5FaoHWjgyJLV2TkQ/s667/Prusener%20-%201107%20Harvard.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="441" data-original-width="667" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_a4LUcACRsFT1zD0dyFwPAINTie0eHHmYpVqLKF_N383b6v1Y1w_4Hty1kSFqYmUYfbDipIjQJX_xAFlz12Py-abs8gHBq1pEVVC8qFU9vsAohMmjHhHGUEwgYtmSfkFEJjR50GHaYejyvFFwzszmYXt7jQ3scHle8H4qB-sWT5FaoHWjgyJLV2TkQ/w400-h265/Prusener%20-%201107%20Harvard.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1107 Harvard</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHaSmk1Blt2EQzZ_f3Eb-lq5S3_GFFabRvlSM3gTmiZ_tefLoyVh1Jadf16RGVCrE-sM_neJ1KGcEMX8dlD7vFGwbd0dfBYAKV5vKYRVqqkYp_AT59lv2UMAY9J1DBPurQcUGJedRxk7hr1UsEWLGHAnMGyj3F1S3a1fIfuJUsA-UDJVK8ZeQqnR4qCA/s667/Prusener%20-%201108%20Harvard.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="448" data-original-width="667" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHaSmk1Blt2EQzZ_f3Eb-lq5S3_GFFabRvlSM3gTmiZ_tefLoyVh1Jadf16RGVCrE-sM_neJ1KGcEMX8dlD7vFGwbd0dfBYAKV5vKYRVqqkYp_AT59lv2UMAY9J1DBPurQcUGJedRxk7hr1UsEWLGHAnMGyj3F1S3a1fIfuJUsA-UDJVK8ZeQqnR4qCA/w400-h269/Prusener%20-%201108%20Harvard.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1108 Harvard</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmMaW798Qcc-BoY0qIJ0e8e_VajFJJDT5bh7W_xejR1yGaNP5k7kMdaFe2D9MfjiHSqYSxIWALQFVZQCmGmV-EJPZs3LF-K8AKvkfR11He_60SrlS1g5tjQnigh7QpueYR5N-A9_ec41zLx93g4MS7gUuDFSn_K588lBs-48e0i-FknAzmhT9nVInoA/s666/Prusener%20-%201106%20Brummel.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="666" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmMaW798Qcc-BoY0qIJ0e8e_VajFJJDT5bh7W_xejR1yGaNP5k7kMdaFe2D9MfjiHSqYSxIWALQFVZQCmGmV-EJPZs3LF-K8AKvkfR11He_60SrlS1g5tjQnigh7QpueYR5N-A9_ec41zLx93g4MS7gUuDFSn_K588lBs-48e0i-FknAzmhT9nVInoA/w400-h269/Prusener%20-%201106%20Brummel.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1106 Brummel</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMFlgBio2WRXYqNG4k9UfQvAAwyUWyKKcMqTAPFHhMR6pDH5SkRFC2892DU8bwzmHtfnw723SHFNrXu-IciI_igMQ-hRpF0HYGFHLWWh9OX7LYqrlr7KlKwBowUcOwej81M_340PdIJA5jUiwyKEW2oRVck7_SCS2gWLBULCTr0-ecdgsABOvnmKnrVA/s666/Prusener%20-%201109%20Harvard.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="448" data-original-width="666" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMFlgBio2WRXYqNG4k9UfQvAAwyUWyKKcMqTAPFHhMR6pDH5SkRFC2892DU8bwzmHtfnw723SHFNrXu-IciI_igMQ-hRpF0HYGFHLWWh9OX7LYqrlr7KlKwBowUcOwej81M_340PdIJA5jUiwyKEW2oRVck7_SCS2gWLBULCTr0-ecdgsABOvnmKnrVA/w400-h269/Prusener%20-%201109%20Harvard.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1109 Harvard</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiRpq3bUxPdher1h9oNTX9QG3jQm-wgWClhUGMnAn-5XayZPYXJ5aTNu8mnm7HysIsNBQaZOAKZdMhvzvxNI0WFDX0AygZdKB1VnYiruy1QRwQMZmkGx1VSkCH0ngR4Ia7yNFz8pHi_0KCK7bfUFNCqlLGthelWc2w2OqZ-WtTjlk7JzNZAOIryE9PzQ/s667/Prusener%20-%201115%20Harvard.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="667" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiRpq3bUxPdher1h9oNTX9QG3jQm-wgWClhUGMnAn-5XayZPYXJ5aTNu8mnm7HysIsNBQaZOAKZdMhvzvxNI0WFDX0AygZdKB1VnYiruy1QRwQMZmkGx1VSkCH0ngR4Ia7yNFz8pHi_0KCK7bfUFNCqlLGthelWc2w2OqZ-WtTjlk7JzNZAOIryE9PzQ/w400-h270/Prusener%20-%201115%20Harvard.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1115 Harvard</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCLS3sZ9gYskoY-zKWBJ028DR9BXtCmWWmdKqOdeNQlN7muGRrCBtu_5x6AH8_5p8bj69goIDhQ_uIdXDfiXYyGs1z3ZKmcD13qcN0T04w1HIKSJZvydFxgDtHdYARCDSPf3NjPZrV26Q_LkJldRVhYHNm1qMXaDerMCXwIm8kkVdUvVlKczV-Vh66gg/s667/Prusener%20-%201012%20Dobson.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="667" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCLS3sZ9gYskoY-zKWBJ028DR9BXtCmWWmdKqOdeNQlN7muGRrCBtu_5x6AH8_5p8bj69goIDhQ_uIdXDfiXYyGs1z3ZKmcD13qcN0T04w1HIKSJZvydFxgDtHdYARCDSPf3NjPZrV26Q_LkJldRVhYHNm1qMXaDerMCXwIm8kkVdUvVlKczV-Vh66gg/w400-h268/Prusener%20-%201012%20Dobson.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1012 Dobson</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Bernard Prusener liked the neighborhood so much he moved his family into the house he built at 1012 Dobson after it was completed. By the way, his telephone number on Dobson was UNiversity 6125.</span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now that Prusener had some experience under his belt he no longer called himself a "Bricklayer." Starting in 1927 the Evanston Directory referred to Bernard Prusener as a "Building Contractor."</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1930 US Census shows the Bernard Prusener family living at 1012 Dobson in Evanston. The family consisted of Bernard (52 years old), Rose L. (50), and Harry (23). Remember, Dorothy Prusener had gotten married in 1920. They reported that 1012 Dobson was a house, and that they owned it. They gave it a value of $19,000.00 ($338,000.00 in today's funds). They did own a radio. Bernard reverted to calling himself a "Bricklayer" but he said he "Constructed on Contract." Rose did not report an occupation but Harry said he was an "Independent Draftsman."</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Bernard Prusener's name does not show up in any of the Chicago newspapers during the 1930s. The Great Depression had begun in 1929 and the days of rapid expansion and the building boom screeched to a halt.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Bernard Prusener's wife Rose Yoblonski died on February 18, 1940. She was fifty-nine years old. Here is her Death Notice from the Chicago Tribune of February 19, 1940:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhACLdvU_kF_E1uoJLmo5oEgFCP6AleQuyRuAOt2nJhlA3biHSA8gSaNHcb_AsHLjxnro4EQ9a0XzhrIjgTAV3Q2W1nBhJATG7rEcRK4qPL6LgtVfN_8Vtq3dbbdqhsb8574CL_ZOQfu8mrlg1Uwu1GN_9qpaUOMI99BnVq35Qx8rsh3_NJwE_82jsplw/s418/Rose%20Prusener%2019%20Feb%201940%20tribune.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="104" data-original-width="418" height="100" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhACLdvU_kF_E1uoJLmo5oEgFCP6AleQuyRuAOt2nJhlA3biHSA8gSaNHcb_AsHLjxnro4EQ9a0XzhrIjgTAV3Q2W1nBhJATG7rEcRK4qPL6LgtVfN_8Vtq3dbbdqhsb8574CL_ZOQfu8mrlg1Uwu1GN_9qpaUOMI99BnVq35Qx8rsh3_NJwE_82jsplw/w400-h100/Rose%20Prusener%2019%20Feb%201940%20tribune.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Rose Prusener is buried in Ridgewood Cemetery in Des Plaines, Illinois, Section 12, Lot 2111:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtm11NdJCLpyuVkSiCLNxgw5nJjdmWouHcZuYsERL78d7fPGHDDKB0JUpSjNK7n3iTGnJfawJMtpeIoXWq-pWKy5-thK6uZTubEZJGm5s65MwNtlTLUWkm5sdDZ8BHFVSADYKns2XHVNupAmApxnhBC0ifCzVCd0t0DN214aW6E5VssyN2eHGTUwj-LQ/s2217/Prusener,%20Rose%20tombstone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1223" data-original-width="2217" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtm11NdJCLpyuVkSiCLNxgw5nJjdmWouHcZuYsERL78d7fPGHDDKB0JUpSjNK7n3iTGnJfawJMtpeIoXWq-pWKy5-thK6uZTubEZJGm5s65MwNtlTLUWkm5sdDZ8BHFVSADYKns2XHVNupAmApxnhBC0ifCzVCd0t0DN214aW6E5VssyN2eHGTUwj-LQ/w400-h221/Prusener,%20Rose%20tombstone.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You will note from her Death Notice that the Pruseners were no longer living in Evanston. This was confirmed by the 1940 US Census.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Census Taker arrived at the home of Bernard and Rose's son Harry on April 7, 1940. He was living at 4721 N. Avers in Chicago:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglAYg4mn_aI7tyuPpGJOXnYPBBTXQ4Zqt9P9bLild4Bz55KsCqryQ5cSeV4OKqlqWV9rh3bbkKl83NoQ-EGIchRcXI73PjWjZq3kuel7FcQAF8drDloUsM_CONEiDRVPxU-gTFQJEzCQ6q6kmPlGN0wpDnSEJlWofe2Ki-1-XEnHG6pc20isFCzv4tlA/s589/4721%20N.%20Avers%20Chicago.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="589" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglAYg4mn_aI7tyuPpGJOXnYPBBTXQ4Zqt9P9bLild4Bz55KsCqryQ5cSeV4OKqlqWV9rh3bbkKl83NoQ-EGIchRcXI73PjWjZq3kuel7FcQAF8drDloUsM_CONEiDRVPxU-gTFQJEzCQ6q6kmPlGN0wpDnSEJlWofe2Ki-1-XEnHG6pc20isFCzv4tlA/w400-h303/4721%20N.%20Avers%20Chicago.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4721 N. Avers, Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The family consisted of Harry Prusener (33 years old), and Bernard (62). Harry said he was Single, and Bernard a Widower. Harry owned the house, which he said was worth $4,800.00 ($100,000.00 in today's funds). Harry said he had completed four years of high school, Bernard had gone to school through the 8th grade. Harry said his occupation was "Draftsman" for a "Building Contractor," Bernard said he was a "Mason" for a "Building Contractor."</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Interestingly, both Harry and Bernard reported that they were living in the same home in 1935. We know that Bernard and Rose were living in the house that Bernard built at 1012 Dobson in Evanston in 1930. By 1935 they were living with their son at 4721 N. Avers. We do not know what caused them to leave Evanston and move in with their son. 1935 was the depth of the Great Depression and things were tough all over - especially for building contractors. Money was unavailable - nobody was building. Maybe Bernard lost the house, maybe he sold it when he could, maybe Rose's illness caused them to give up the house and move in with Harry. I was not able to ascertain what caused the move.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Chicago Tribune from January 15, 1942 reported the shocking death of Bernard Prusener:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWR165LYnkqWID0_Xw2SgGVsVoEPW6xSKA8Anxx7YvPH3mvP3gJ9u3eMc0UIQNPr4kD_Q9wWiJQWH1XlIP96bUAeypvcZHBDbpzqkEnCvKyP2UdfF04Ows0iY2FzON4GUNWZNAA2xSfLyIHJd8_Z-JkBiLgS1GInywdc7P6HEPiZtHlUq5Ar8_9HwpOQ/s524/15%20Jan%201942.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="151" data-original-width="524" height="115" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWR165LYnkqWID0_Xw2SgGVsVoEPW6xSKA8Anxx7YvPH3mvP3gJ9u3eMc0UIQNPr4kD_Q9wWiJQWH1XlIP96bUAeypvcZHBDbpzqkEnCvKyP2UdfF04Ows0iY2FzON4GUNWZNAA2xSfLyIHJd8_Z-JkBiLgS1GInywdc7P6HEPiZtHlUq5Ar8_9HwpOQ/w400-h115/15%20Jan%201942.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Decatur (IL) Daily Review gives a little more information:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw6PjwFrjoDZ2DVYrBdoasWurGFixYDFka3OvOtn5f8C4FaoktHfdvGe8bptKsvb8ePr_a4WjV0wwqwow_9d7yEXE_uX8QRrYjh3a-N1uYezK6B-Lwk6niZ-exPGjkZeLk6ZAFvFyWhI2KasEEsUduEudfpFrsevwJl8cjMUi-VOJPBsWUcAUtRrqrCw/s431/Decatur-1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="431" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw6PjwFrjoDZ2DVYrBdoasWurGFixYDFka3OvOtn5f8C4FaoktHfdvGe8bptKsvb8ePr_a4WjV0wwqwow_9d7yEXE_uX8QRrYjh3a-N1uYezK6B-Lwk6niZ-exPGjkZeLk6ZAFvFyWhI2KasEEsUduEudfpFrsevwJl8cjMUi-VOJPBsWUcAUtRrqrCw/s320/Decatur-1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="208" data-original-width="460" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglzizWx6ak7p2ljxoxWwKdfsiVT4-tiOE2yGVuQE8401NmflhRtjznLApjgb_Nq0ZHT9mKiceYPgSQQ4G34jwBi7e2lqNfTDAtMAdH7rGNTeWUr51HO8VIS20E34WaqpVQCfLC4q_2T6fkhKMjpNOx1qxgFanFb3TPknGtvDWQHIpeppUAaCS7ES4QKQ/s320/decatur-2.JPG" width="320" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">The building at 72 East Randolph in Chicago is still standing today:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdX5TZfZlqoPmYz_D42B6eNJEpsh01j32SDrqgfFm2OAqP6LOVljYjX7H4KEJd-4xEUM9rfPVgBro3QnDHvFP7gi96SziySWJynVjOByAWi4UWW8d8aCN8nu9DfGZqoEH-qfTnZxfoiH0ik-YwZkUT9PhGf38tq_HOmwO52bgFjagl4-E51M8h1Vvjcg/s877/72%20East%20Randolph%20Street,%20Chicago.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="829" data-original-width="877" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdX5TZfZlqoPmYz_D42B6eNJEpsh01j32SDrqgfFm2OAqP6LOVljYjX7H4KEJd-4xEUM9rfPVgBro3QnDHvFP7gi96SziySWJynVjOByAWi4UWW8d8aCN8nu9DfGZqoEH-qfTnZxfoiH0ik-YwZkUT9PhGf38tq_HOmwO52bgFjagl4-E51M8h1Vvjcg/w400-h378/72%20East%20Randolph%20Street,%20Chicago.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">72 East Randolph, Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Here is his Death Notice from the Chicago Tribune of January 16, 1942:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWDw9plDoCxWiYy_K6_wgCcAtAKml5zEcbFmwFlTJtMd6DtI8npnJ-ixfe1UzFpvauwJMd_NcEBh49QtmMb0vd012hU2TVxTmQpq_th2snRo1EJaKQoN6PY-udwhZn1KVzARskYFZqNLXv0eRD-0vw4GwhMb6QZOJBS9XWVvARNofgsFyKTbs2cbW9Xg/s340/16%20Jan%201942.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="80" data-original-width="340" height="110" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWDw9plDoCxWiYy_K6_wgCcAtAKml5zEcbFmwFlTJtMd6DtI8npnJ-ixfe1UzFpvauwJMd_NcEBh49QtmMb0vd012hU2TVxTmQpq_th2snRo1EJaKQoN6PY-udwhZn1KVzARskYFZqNLXv0eRD-0vw4GwhMb6QZOJBS9XWVvARNofgsFyKTbs2cbW9Xg/w468-h110/16%20Jan%201942.JPG" width="468" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Bernard Prusener was buried next to his wife Rose at Ridgewood Cemetery:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz1S3hN9fHzzbQUXIPrrj8HJMayArOT6d10oQIZpQkN5TWn-Zs7bhAF7yyQDvCgL7wkEivpzWQc-bNIoGwht-cD5zngVub76KkhfLlNUiZ43l7WI1ebmyNGjtJspce2IP9brfxhNIMVy7Xe3SFTZrLtn9UohLsgUpj8lEjnCbGJGsLXi0bYgSw5O7hfQ/s1012/Prusener,%20Bernard%20tombstone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="595" data-original-width="1012" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz1S3hN9fHzzbQUXIPrrj8HJMayArOT6d10oQIZpQkN5TWn-Zs7bhAF7yyQDvCgL7wkEivpzWQc-bNIoGwht-cD5zngVub76KkhfLlNUiZ43l7WI1ebmyNGjtJspce2IP9brfxhNIMVy7Xe3SFTZrLtn9UohLsgUpj8lEjnCbGJGsLXi0bYgSw5O7hfQ/w400-h235/Prusener,%20Bernard%20tombstone.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijtJoiP1FifnQGw3xKs6PaeGq4hNHjtoEd8baRCfqUadlqKNFqCTOZ8jW2L_Zi4WCZ7g6ovi8CHh27EwWCd9CNHrqXI5mH32O5uFnRQUWPwkyGsr6Ko5Cs_UkcB0RiUba7IRET7VInbVkgiNl8H5gahd6Qjf7CgIgmuv_S69yC7rmhogdhancV7zuwCA/s3264/Prusener%20at%20Ridgewood.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1832" data-original-width="3264" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijtJoiP1FifnQGw3xKs6PaeGq4hNHjtoEd8baRCfqUadlqKNFqCTOZ8jW2L_Zi4WCZ7g6ovi8CHh27EwWCd9CNHrqXI5mH32O5uFnRQUWPwkyGsr6Ko5Cs_UkcB0RiUba7IRET7VInbVkgiNl8H5gahd6Qjf7CgIgmuv_S69yC7rmhogdhancV7zuwCA/w400-h225/Prusener%20at%20Ridgewood.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">It's interesting to note, that even though Bernard and Rose were married in a Catholic Church, and had both of their children baptized Catholics, neither of them had a Catholic funeral, nor are they buried in a Catholic Cemetery.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A tragic end for a man who created beautiful homes. I obviously never met Bernard Prusener - he died fourteen years before I was born. Nevertheless, I want to thank him - he built a wonderful house for a boy to grow up in. No matter where I live, 1027 Harvard Terrace will always be "Home" to me.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">May he rest in peace. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">What about 1027 Harvard Terrace? I am happy to report that it is still standing and has not been turned into a McMansion. Here is a recent photo:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT9aMwIAqmWcNZGOQbn1GASc5RQaB_kBtdxE-zkvd9QP0u93CgNv-qJQ_iZzcD1nMrqEZ_HhSmblDD4QnKX_-B3wRXLYEJRcdeZddl5Z6PkGe1pW01atuqv5OM9aWAVcyAdx0wGAVBgB1ewDQpq52Z5JGN77YBMPOYopcYTVlDnuHHLLXzD5xwUxd1lg/s3176/1027%20Harvard%20-%202022.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2404" data-original-width="3176" height="357" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT9aMwIAqmWcNZGOQbn1GASc5RQaB_kBtdxE-zkvd9QP0u93CgNv-qJQ_iZzcD1nMrqEZ_HhSmblDD4QnKX_-B3wRXLYEJRcdeZddl5Z6PkGe1pW01atuqv5OM9aWAVcyAdx0wGAVBgB1ewDQpq52Z5JGN77YBMPOYopcYTVlDnuHHLLXzD5xwUxd1lg/w471-h357/1027%20Harvard%20-%202022.jpg" width="471" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">It was lovingly renovated and is now the home for a family who bought it in 2022. I hope they will be as happy living there as I was.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><br />Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-61461597667113633092023-02-01T05:13:00.001-08:002023-02-03T17:44:07.835-08:00AN AMERICAN SUCCESS STORY - Robert Hemmington McElroy, Sr.<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Several years ago I told the story of "The Most Unforgettable Woman I Ever Met - Ailzia McElroy 'Babe' Drake" (1902-2004). Her life was so full of adventures it took me four installments to tell the whole thing. Before you read this month's story, if you haven't read about "Babe" you should at least read the first chapter of her saga:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://undereverytombstone.blogspot.com/2014/09/the-most-unforgettable-woman-i-ever-met_12.html"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">https://undereverytombstone.blogspot.com/2014/09/the-most-unforgettable-woman-i-ever-met_12.html</span></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This month I am going to tell you the story of Babe's father, Robert Hemmington McElroy, Sr. He was a true American success story. He worked his way up from selling newspapers on a street corner to Vice President and Member of the Board of Directors of The Standard Oil Company. I never met him - he died long before I came on the scene - but Babe talked about him so much through the years I felt like I knew him. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The older I get, the more I realize just how much of an influence our parents are on each of us. By my telling the story of the father she adored, we will understand better how Babe came to be the woman she was.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi83QBIUKgyjTios_try_ygpd9LdyPzBv3ry8aOGLdxJztMjPWppecVzwy3-3ZF0s7Kf6QLJrOenWs3umxY2Ul7waziInwOfFa3Q9GvjUqxgy8bvW2vjWWbA7EJOVHyXH59aDXjjBlgvNJM2gzt22jp_xcNhd62tT8VW4JKjQkFmwcjfJDlpBZkcd_MFQ/s237/RHM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="237" data-original-width="222" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi83QBIUKgyjTios_try_ygpd9LdyPzBv3ry8aOGLdxJztMjPWppecVzwy3-3ZF0s7Kf6QLJrOenWs3umxY2Ul7waziInwOfFa3Q9GvjUqxgy8bvW2vjWWbA7EJOVHyXH59aDXjjBlgvNJM2gzt22jp_xcNhd62tT8VW4JKjQkFmwcjfJDlpBZkcd_MFQ/w300-h320/RHM.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Babe's favorite portrait of her father</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Robert Hemmington McElroy was born on June 13, 1877 in Chicago to James McElroy (1842-1920) and Mary Haydock (1840-1915). His Birth Record under "Mcllroy" erroneously lists his mother's name as "Mary Bassett." </span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Robert's father, </span><span style="font-size: medium;">James McElroy had been born in Ireland of Scots parents and came to the US in 1869 when he was twenty-seven. James was a machinist by trade. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Robert's mother, Mary Haydock had been born in Ireland and came to the US in 1868 when she was twenty-eight. History does not record how James and Mary met, but they married in Chicago in 1870. James and Mary were blessed with four children: Margaret J./Mrs. William Snell (1870-1935), James Winfield (1873-1956), Mabel Georgianna/Mrs. Frederick Hollands (1876-1953) and Robert Hemmington (1877-1938).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I was unable to find the McElroy family in the 1880 US Census, and the 1890 US Census for Chicago is of course, lost. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Robert H. McElroy was educated in the Chicago public school system - when he bothered to go to school. In an interview in later years he stated, "I wasn't exactly tame when I went to school. In fact I was called the worst boy in school at that time."</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He left school altogether when he was twelve years old. His first job was running a corner news stand. He said, "One of my customers was a wealthy man and one day I asked him if he couldn't get me a 'decent' job. He did - as a messenger boy at $15.00 a month for the Chicago, Milwaukee and St. Paul Railroad." </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The day he started his "decent" job was actually his thirteenth birthday: June 13, 1890. </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">What were his duties? He described it as "carrying papers from one office to another."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>His talents and abilities were apparent from the start. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Two months after I got the job I was promoted to office boy. In the meantime I enrolled in the Chicago North Division High School at night. I worked from 6:30 A.M. to 6:30 P.M. six days a week and every other Sunday, and studied and attended classes at night."</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> In 1893 he was promoted to Tariff Clerk. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I don't know where he found the time for courtship, but on June 7, 1897 Robert H. McElroy married Florence Queen Dascombe in Kenosha, Wisconsin. The groom was nineteen years old; the bride was twenty.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Florence Dascombe was born September 27, 1876 in Chicago, to James Dascombe (1848-1886) and Nellie Roena Lathrop (1856-1900). James Dascombe was a Brewery Agent by trade. In addition to Florence, James and Nellie Lathrop had a son, John Milton Dascombe (1878-1912). The Lathrop family was an old and distinguished Wisconsin family. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Florence's parents James and Nellie Dascombe divorced on December 18, 1884 in Denver, Colorado where James had moved the family in 1877 to pursue more lucrative business opportunities. Both of Florence's parents remarried. James remained in Colorado where he died in 1886. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Nellie Dascombe remarried in 1885 and returned to Chicago with her second husband Samuel D. Marshall, Sr., (1855-1932) and children in 1887. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Upon the family's return to Chicago, Florence Dascombe got a job working as a nurse at the former Childrens Memorial Hospital. I don't know whether or not she was a Registered Nurse, but she was still working at Childrens when she met young Bob McElroy.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">They were an odd couple in their appearance together. Robert McElroy stood over 6'4"; Florence was barely five feet tall. Many years later, Robert McElroy said one of the main causes of his success was "the steadying influence of early marriage responsibilities." </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Robert McElroy continued his climb up the corporate ladder in 1898 when he was promoted to Chief Clerk, still at the Chicago, Milwaukee and St. Paul Railroad.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Robert and Florence welcomed their first child, Robert Hemmington McElroy, Jr., (1898-1969) on April 20, 1898. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1900 US Census finds the Robert McElroy family living in the Town of Lakeview, at 1526 (Now 832) W. Wrightwood Avenue:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRT_LlxAW_E9v4Uo-xHBtL2fksmCQ--DCYW9VF2JUc2uF21d5ZX9U7Bv_FnLdtFo05O6lSwFycVUO_c1YHwg0-YQQf9Z7c15SJxcF54leHWGglyl0RE8NYoCxVLgYjvPIB4Bf6Td4DRwH5LCgZtczkMBy-qB5L_kCPSIxdsmM0JWxMCphM80TLvPkWug/s587/832%20wrightwood%20chicago.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="587" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRT_LlxAW_E9v4Uo-xHBtL2fksmCQ--DCYW9VF2JUc2uF21d5ZX9U7Bv_FnLdtFo05O6lSwFycVUO_c1YHwg0-YQQf9Z7c15SJxcF54leHWGglyl0RE8NYoCxVLgYjvPIB4Bf6Td4DRwH5LCgZtczkMBy-qB5L_kCPSIxdsmM0JWxMCphM80TLvPkWug/w400-h361/832%20wrightwood%20chicago.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">832 W. Wrightwood, Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The family consisted of Robert (22 years old), Florence (22), and Robert Jr. (2). Florence reported that she and Robert had been married for three years and had one child, who was still alive in 1900. Robert said he was a "Clerk in a Railway Freight Office." </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">There was an addition to the family on May 6, 1902 when Florence gave birth to Ailzia Lathrop McElroy (1902-2004). Her big brother Robert who was four years old when she was born couldn't get his tongue around "Ailzia" so he started calling her "Babe" which is what people close to her called her for the rest of her life. </span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As mentioned above, by 1906, Bob McElroy had worked his way up to being the Chief Clerk in the Traffic Department of the Chicago, Milwaukee and St. Paul Railroad. In 1906 he left the railroad and accepted a job as Chief Tariff Clerk for the Standard Oil Company of Indiana. He worked out of their corporate headquarters at 910 S. Michigan Avenue in Chicago.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWWkt5yllEu3FCbKzdzazuGlReUy9D9vKPcvzpUjshkvtZNMj85NRNffMh_ZPScbCrudOBMkGmmEEhlcN7I7fVGO5AAT8TwHQSLqX7Xzi1aArtnbYVC0DqgJ0L0xLjT2KQw5gXoHYqM02qUtVGIxqEcWFWsncCEG-J5OujfzxHRQtusQAPdtI_NlpxKA/s832/910%20S%20Michigan%20avenue%20Chicago.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="832" data-original-width="798" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWWkt5yllEu3FCbKzdzazuGlReUy9D9vKPcvzpUjshkvtZNMj85NRNffMh_ZPScbCrudOBMkGmmEEhlcN7I7fVGO5AAT8TwHQSLqX7Xzi1aArtnbYVC0DqgJ0L0xLjT2KQw5gXoHYqM02qUtVGIxqEcWFWsncCEG-J5OujfzxHRQtusQAPdtI_NlpxKA/s320/910%20S%20Michigan%20avenue%20Chicago.jpg" width="307" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Standard Oil of Indiana, 910 S. Michigan Av. Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1910 US Census showed the McElroy family living at 1607 Lake Avenue in Wilmette, Illinois:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfA54SBrE-B0aA1dVAxRAk3c1zuH641KEKYmonq6u_7kfT-y1xOKRi2oYIiyziAnyUrqGRb_jNQpDFCNUdBzasOrmkjx3bCJeaBV8ASsIquSRHH8ZCRn2R0--lyiT3TnwldaomTlOTW9r5hOB0BxA0D41jl0hKgjJnN6ID3iKZ7Kv3VDdNHOHlJzQJuw/s465/1607%20Lake%20avenue%20Wilmette.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="431" data-original-width="465" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfA54SBrE-B0aA1dVAxRAk3c1zuH641KEKYmonq6u_7kfT-y1xOKRi2oYIiyziAnyUrqGRb_jNQpDFCNUdBzasOrmkjx3bCJeaBV8ASsIquSRHH8ZCRn2R0--lyiT3TnwldaomTlOTW9r5hOB0BxA0D41jl0hKgjJnN6ID3iKZ7Kv3VDdNHOHlJzQJuw/w400-h371/1607%20Lake%20avenue%20Wilmette.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1607 Lake Avenue, Wilmette, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The family consisted of Robert H. McElroy (33 years old), Florence (30 - she was actually 33), Robert H. Jr., (11) and "Elzia" (7). Robert Sr. and Florence stated it was the first marriage for both, that they had been married twelve years, and that they had two children, both of whom were alive in 1910. Robert listed his occupation as "Traffic Expert" with the "Standard Oil Co." Everyone except Babe could both read and write and they all could speak English. Lastly, they owned their home and it did have a mortgage on it.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Babe used to say that her family moved into Wilmette "right after the Ouilmette Indians moved out."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Robert McElroy's mother, Mary Haydock McElroy died on April 2, 1915 in Chicago. Here is her Death Notice from the Chicago Tribune of February 6, 1915:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM02MMC7xyPhiznm1TEBm2pfIGMZ3cLW9Lbh-FMdBEWCs8Gfc3iKiw9gzcA-unMFuwOVGxUQ6YimZiud9KdmSz83MVDeqtFntbbbQC3KaUuWPYHqdeeY3Ls0H-JwFxvFUXBQ92k5X12rHxgsC52epnHlohcAK5uZ78t-Oxqdty0AIMTJwm2RkhYsnpyw/s678/05%20Apr%201915.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="196" data-original-width="678" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM02MMC7xyPhiznm1TEBm2pfIGMZ3cLW9Lbh-FMdBEWCs8Gfc3iKiw9gzcA-unMFuwOVGxUQ6YimZiud9KdmSz83MVDeqtFntbbbQC3KaUuWPYHqdeeY3Ls0H-JwFxvFUXBQ92k5X12rHxgsC52epnHlohcAK5uZ78t-Oxqdty0AIMTJwm2RkhYsnpyw/w665-h193/05%20Apr%201915.JPG" width="665" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She was buried in Forest Home Cemetery in Forest Park, Illinois in an idyllic plot right by the Des Plaines River:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJ6pIPTM44sxpxTMy0G6WFrrukSX5iU8QDnno1oV2c46u4DOE9SYQjcr_xXrAZVjPX-c2IPVhNSiTeCe2ul0PUfTyc3ycdmNAbxbexwUd0sOs5fcCRzzw-KF3VazNnVoihAb6pxsihjfkKe02HNIyQ0935JP5a838LGyFItfJjpg8OCAzLvNW0_kMxw/s1086/McElroy,%20Mary.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1070" data-original-width="1086" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJ6pIPTM44sxpxTMy0G6WFrrukSX5iU8QDnno1oV2c46u4DOE9SYQjcr_xXrAZVjPX-c2IPVhNSiTeCe2ul0PUfTyc3ycdmNAbxbexwUd0sOs5fcCRzzw-KF3VazNnVoihAb6pxsihjfkKe02HNIyQ0935JP5a838LGyFItfJjpg8OCAzLvNW0_kMxw/w400-h394/McElroy,%20Mary.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In about 1915 Robert H. McElroy bought the beautiful home at 704 Sheridan Road in Wilmette:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyhXZ9ShC4tUuXKS5hOMoXbApznlma1uPDOr_hdDQ__P_OwMB10vDU8xyI9AByy55sviwGN8OB1X9xbCErxbDqchm7lGnBjvmdRIzj_-UZJE7VReeSvoCz4noY3heGe1LM_202hh-hd0YpHMXD-m1X-4zQ3y1JoY17Rx_2Mx9x3Gebm3JjBZATWATNFA/s634/704%20Sheridan%20Road.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="444" data-original-width="634" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyhXZ9ShC4tUuXKS5hOMoXbApznlma1uPDOr_hdDQ__P_OwMB10vDU8xyI9AByy55sviwGN8OB1X9xbCErxbDqchm7lGnBjvmdRIzj_-UZJE7VReeSvoCz4noY3heGe1LM_202hh-hd0YpHMXD-m1X-4zQ3y1JoY17Rx_2Mx9x3Gebm3JjBZATWATNFA/w677-h474/704%20Sheridan%20Road.jpg" width="677" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">704 Sheridan Road, Wilmette, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Babe loved growing up in this house. Her bedroom was in the front facing Sheridan Road and she used to sit in her bedroom window watching them build the Baha'i Temple a short distance away.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">In 1917 Robert McElroy was promoted to Traffic Manager for Standard Oil of Indiana.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">McElroy registered for the Draft, as was required of all men of a certain age, on September 12, 1918. He listed his address as 704 Sheridan Road in Wilmette. He said his occupation was "Traffic Manager for the Standard Oil Company." The Registrar described him as "Medium" height, "Medium" build, "Brown" eyes, and "Brown" hair with no physical disqualifications.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I was not able to locate Robert McElroy in the 1920 US Census. However, he was mentioned in the newspaper when his father James McElroy died on October 23, 1920:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv_fVDTMlydhBTb7eXSIe2sJHu2ry6wLh9uJsiSITpq3WoUj5hkt4trbGuxROTDk59mcnet9nUCxg35Kec4XCXRXVGySQ8ZrrvIvWm41kq7qKthdsoFBY4AqDfeeHmucS2GKKw-mz79FN4UFYFbYxlqAj2OggpJKxIDSih4As4aYlPrNHXnqeCkZ29vQ/s501/25%20Oct%201920.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="160" data-original-width="501" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv_fVDTMlydhBTb7eXSIe2sJHu2ry6wLh9uJsiSITpq3WoUj5hkt4trbGuxROTDk59mcnet9nUCxg35Kec4XCXRXVGySQ8ZrrvIvWm41kq7qKthdsoFBY4AqDfeeHmucS2GKKw-mz79FN4UFYFbYxlqAj2OggpJKxIDSih4As4aYlPrNHXnqeCkZ29vQ/w640-h204/25%20Oct%201920.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">James McElroy was buried next to his wife in their beautiful plot at Forest Home Cemetery.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd0PUgrJJHbNPNQ-zLAEtOdZa8t9OGASOQDwcOGPPPpRyI1XLQEjjZ00r4hSSLU115PWGu6LHV8_OvjOqTTJDgi5kgp8cH9JmV6ArEEu-Jld4eI8mHNpZ6-SiscVz94xx32ojDHindx8vzuwcZY3xBphv-u27MU4XUYEWLK0AR-K0ssfYxby0Um1dZlQ/s1086/McElroy,%20Mary.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1070" data-original-width="1086" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd0PUgrJJHbNPNQ-zLAEtOdZa8t9OGASOQDwcOGPPPpRyI1XLQEjjZ00r4hSSLU115PWGu6LHV8_OvjOqTTJDgi5kgp8cH9JmV6ArEEu-Jld4eI8mHNpZ6-SiscVz94xx32ojDHindx8vzuwcZY3xBphv-u27MU4XUYEWLK0AR-K0ssfYxby0Um1dZlQ/w400-h394/McElroy,%20Mary.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Robert and Florence McElroy were shocked when their daughter eloped on Valentine's Day 1921:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhodSchjxqC4wWYLs6pKgyyEFsQqXhAGgTd26o2P8QHR-IrFDS7dHOH_6hJVrENcOHy1F1wkPjf3gWJxnDL-tmMokpJ7nMg1cbSIHmZjEsC33g-m4n-Y5MyKiZ8b3n01yHmfycs6qQU-PUUrdQiLCnsgqu-uhuEJfk1Lyq0k6p2y-CiSFNG4CKgpuKDUw/s1600/27%20Feb%201921.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="686" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhodSchjxqC4wWYLs6pKgyyEFsQqXhAGgTd26o2P8QHR-IrFDS7dHOH_6hJVrENcOHy1F1wkPjf3gWJxnDL-tmMokpJ7nMg1cbSIHmZjEsC33g-m4n-Y5MyKiZ8b3n01yHmfycs6qQU-PUUrdQiLCnsgqu-uhuEJfk1Lyq0k6p2y-CiSFNG4CKgpuKDUw/w274-h640/27%20Feb%201921.jpg" width="274" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She married Philip Francis Harper, son of French-Canadian lumber magnate Edward Harper. The bride was eighteen; the groom was twenty-one. When I told Babe's story I commented on her father's reaction to her elopement:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Robert McElroy, Sr. lamented that his only daughter would not have the big church wedding he had always planned. "And what about all those gifts I have given to everyone's children over all these years?" the pragmatic Scotsman asked. "This was my only chance to tap them for a generous gift in return."</span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Babe's brother, Robert H. McElroy, Jr. married in the more conventional manner when he wed Mabel Ruth Van Ness (1898-1959) on December 31, 1921.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Years later I was talking to Oscar Isberian, noted oriental rug merchant in Evanston who had gone to school with Babe and Robert. He told me "Ruth McElroy was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">1922 was a banner year for Robert McElroy. On May 24, 1922 McElroy was elected to the Board of Directors of the Standard Oil Company of Indiana. He was forty-four years old. Newspapers reported his promotion along with his new salary of $30,000 per year ($536,000 in today's dollars). </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">They also reported the Horatio Alger-like tale of McElroy's rise to the top:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="474" data-original-width="634" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqfYgZiKvzX2LMryCYXKnAK5WG4T8IB2jc_0ia8vheFO5paXCQVAjPLMcBNKDgRGs4CDz9PVNb5vZ6UPPQ8LhvwrRvUW9qotFSBe8uFGICQFEAEFZYDmzHJrG1bFxnUGU_MNRTUEzJa7jjucf5j4g6B7v4gJMS5FrQ3-Pe4ZLcZWhbKlAh6ULYsr5vPQ/w640-h478/26%20May%201922.JPG" width="640" /></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Upon his promotion to Director at Standard Oil the New York Times did an in-depth interview with McElroy that was printed in its Sunday edition on July 2, 1922. I am reproducing it here because I think it gives you a good look into the kind of man Robert McElroy was:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwexPL0qAUfzvK8GdJj0w4V26w0QocXJVdi7HL56vQ2CW7IB-J9IuaH9et66cSCh6MAVP6Tn6upA1iY7_qe-WyRPlZ_rD_6eOs7RP1Nt2QehbvlNoyqV5vFk6u2M13PwqkSM5VSPSh2hABMnWqAZhUWq2cw_QSd9LS2bS7K8RXddptnTD7APvq6mB84Q/s2786/1922%20Interview-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2786" data-original-width="1989" height="837" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwexPL0qAUfzvK8GdJj0w4V26w0QocXJVdi7HL56vQ2CW7IB-J9IuaH9et66cSCh6MAVP6Tn6upA1iY7_qe-WyRPlZ_rD_6eOs7RP1Nt2QehbvlNoyqV5vFk6u2M13PwqkSM5VSPSh2hABMnWqAZhUWq2cw_QSd9LS2bS7K8RXddptnTD7APvq6mB84Q/w596-h837/1922%20Interview-1.jpg" width="596" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2852" data-original-width="1946" height="877" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKbkAH-ipGn4bYSGj53n-YXzEVE1IkftcLA-FMp8RBaEy0--FrQrmvcAKB92PQ0T5ZwKBw-mgJA702f6rJEFGS9ZJIRyQrY1upytFY5DIQ-vgQ9fQWTwOY8HfxzxiYmvs5xzn_7lawOdPFpH8xvcz-ebkxgKt_Gsn2Jl9Uah2roGTZ3pMaJ-a9HdrMdw/w597-h877/1922%20Interview-2.jpg" width="597" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvo8aHUgE5kP37D_Mby4SsStaRkzbtyGeuKQro15FI8FPBufFknTzDmhQ8hRDcotWNFfAMt5om3gjfoFY5uifg3NXmka78X0Fjnv7E2JXNmCJiru1TkS3HPjB30Gq02oI0n8W5w2vShzonMcQLh1iyOLRRXke5_AdirbIRtv3kX4Nkrwe8RpzzgP8SoA/s2775/1922%20Interview-3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2775" data-original-width="1877" height="860" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvo8aHUgE5kP37D_Mby4SsStaRkzbtyGeuKQro15FI8FPBufFknTzDmhQ8hRDcotWNFfAMt5om3gjfoFY5uifg3NXmka78X0Fjnv7E2JXNmCJiru1TkS3HPjB30Gq02oI0n8W5w2vShzonMcQLh1iyOLRRXke5_AdirbIRtv3kX4Nkrwe8RpzzgP8SoA/w581-h860/1922%20Interview-3.jpg" width="581" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIElXYrv5OwrhjSFzat3I0XmqJ9Kxd7s_CxcGLcMT1iEDk85kr2fsFGyPtEvAPGuCCd3g7byGL5pIATjfLaFC2kcv2xi3CHuvX5i3D-5m0_0UEoEJedJqJuZGSCXyxNz5vOhnJwT_4_dUEy9eXe_IKsDePjJlsj-Xjc8_RlfvpAmKBiN_C9zaZlBTbuA/s1907/1922%20Interview-4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1659" data-original-width="1907" height="519" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIElXYrv5OwrhjSFzat3I0XmqJ9Kxd7s_CxcGLcMT1iEDk85kr2fsFGyPtEvAPGuCCd3g7byGL5pIATjfLaFC2kcv2xi3CHuvX5i3D-5m0_0UEoEJedJqJuZGSCXyxNz5vOhnJwT_4_dUEy9eXe_IKsDePjJlsj-Xjc8_RlfvpAmKBiN_C9zaZlBTbuA/w596-h519/1922%20Interview-4.jpg" width="596" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">With both Babe and Robert, Jr., married it was natural that grandchildren would come along for Bob and Florence McElroy.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Babe and her first husband Philip Harper had two children: Philip Harper (1921-1921) and Florence Dascombe Harper/Mrs. George Wurster (1923-2011).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Robert McElroy, Jr. and Ruth had a daughter, Ruth Valerie McElroy/Mrs. Joseph Hunley (1929-2004).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Robert McElroy's career took another jump in 1927 when on March 3 he was promoted to Vice President in charge of Transportation. What did this entail? McElroy supervised the transportation annually of 25 million barrels of gasoline, 6 million barrels of refined oil, besides lubricating oils, specialties, asphalt and road oils, and the payment of $40 million a year in railroad freight rates. He got a nice raise in pay, too. His new salary was $54,900 per year ($1.189 million in today's dollars).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpCo4EpT-qXAmjdNZ1CNAzsp3-zF7zsfmITr5AHtYxWTiZz4YQPQ-QbNWjssgddFGzkY8e6w873pW5mdTfqqQANHFAilNm7Jdajao0LeIfsmzQSdiLm_U6J3awddt0tgU3aWTQ5c3x-fBj1y_0C8qlJ4TxZYZGDeYJoLC3BKpqEcRCKbikVSwjRHuD3g/s478/Tribune%2004%20Mar%201927.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="478" data-original-width="252" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpCo4EpT-qXAmjdNZ1CNAzsp3-zF7zsfmITr5AHtYxWTiZz4YQPQ-QbNWjssgddFGzkY8e6w873pW5mdTfqqQANHFAilNm7Jdajao0LeIfsmzQSdiLm_U6J3awddt0tgU3aWTQ5c3x-fBj1y_0C8qlJ4TxZYZGDeYJoLC3BKpqEcRCKbikVSwjRHuD3g/w211-h400/Tribune%2004%20Mar%201927.JPG" width="211" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert McElroy at the time of his promotion</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Babe said her father travelled to work the same way every day: He took the street car into downtown Wilmette where he caught the train that took him to downtown Chicago. That might have been appropriate for his past life, but his new responsibilities required him to be transported in a manner befitting his station. It was not something he would do willingly, but after his promotion, the frugal Scotsman was finally talked into ordering a 1927 Lincoln Model L Seven-Passenger Berline:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN7D4Bn1LgWR7UEfRypKilnzAdwFOvTZ45GCe5Mi1VaR6igJiKMbw8vnP_rb6m8MzpGux6JIi5r73nMrTTLrT-T6UQg70gvD7OP75ARnEtOcFJJrYFN6LS3y5ug3C_MC4LiTzOuxjcZ_XiD1nmhg6y7rrJTYJekZudi-CY7APLURcHrd-TnMGYcftkBw/s1142/McElroy%201927%20Lincoln.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="637" data-original-width="1142" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN7D4Bn1LgWR7UEfRypKilnzAdwFOvTZ45GCe5Mi1VaR6igJiKMbw8vnP_rb6m8MzpGux6JIi5r73nMrTTLrT-T6UQg70gvD7OP75ARnEtOcFJJrYFN6LS3y5ug3C_MC4LiTzOuxjcZ_XiD1nmhg6y7rrJTYJekZudi-CY7APLURcHrd-TnMGYcftkBw/w665-h370/McElroy%201927%20Lincoln.JPG" width="665" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When the car went to auction in 2013 here is how it was described: <i>A Lincoln limousine befit(ting) a stately man of wealth and good bearing, which described Robert H. McElroy, a partner and vice-president in John D. Rockefeller's immensely profitable Standard Oil Company. McElroy's Model L seven-passenger Berline, a factory-bodied example of what he took delivery in 1927, came equipped with all the luxuries of a good life. </i></span><i><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The rear seat was appointed as nicely as a living room sofa, with all surrounding windows equipped with window shades drawn by silk rope pulls. Commands to the chauffeur were issued through an intercom system, state-of-the-art in the late-1920s. </span></span><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">At the time of its purchase it was the most expensive car that could be had on the market, selling for the princely sum of $5,950.00 in 1927 ($102,000 in today's dollars). The price of McElroy's limousine was a full $400 more than the most expensive Rolls Royce.</span></span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">They even put his monogram on the car door so everyone would know it was his:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span></span></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJuC6F-Hzq6arLrcZiTLKPDX4h1Ago2gsqKKg9X69FZgcr_KTOUTIr_6GaO6S3cdDZZKaZZbMp5ye2Qp6sGOVLXjnaI--kQnx-o8KwLCyqv3rxt_7yuJcNTqrMSs-2H1mANYAHGjJev5UFsqtoDE0PGuTXOiwS1zucc9uFFFytKKxF95-MPpbsUKHTGA/s1241/McElroy%20Monogram%20on%20car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1241" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJuC6F-Hzq6arLrcZiTLKPDX4h1Ago2gsqKKg9X69FZgcr_KTOUTIr_6GaO6S3cdDZZKaZZbMp5ye2Qp6sGOVLXjnaI--kQnx-o8KwLCyqv3rxt_7yuJcNTqrMSs-2H1mANYAHGjJev5UFsqtoDE0PGuTXOiwS1zucc9uFFFytKKxF95-MPpbsUKHTGA/w400-h340/McElroy%20Monogram%20on%20car.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></i></div><span style="font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>I can report that the frugal McElroy never employed a chauffeur - he enjoyed driving the magnificent machine himself. But most days he still took the train downtown to work.</span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1930 US Census finds the McElroys still living in their beautiful home on Sheridan Road in Wilmette. The family consisted of Robert (52 years old), Florence (51), and daughter "Alzia Drake" (28). Florence McElroy told the census taker that "Alzia" was divorced, and did not give her age at first marriage. True, Babe had been divorced from Philip Harper in 1928 but had married T.H. Drake on January 20, 1930 in Chicago.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There are a couple of people missing here. First of all, where was Babe's husband? It was during the Great Depression - perhaps Drake had remained in Reno to keep his job as a telegrapher with the railroad that he had been doing when he and Babe met. But where was Babe's six year old daughter Florence? Babe would not have left her with her step-father in Nevada. She was not with Philip Harper, her biological father. Babe would never have allowed Florence to live with him. I suspect that for whatever reason, Florence McElroy didn't want to mention her granddaughter to the census taker at all - so she didn't. I never met Babe's mother, but everyone who knew her told me she was an "unusual" woman.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp_dw_tMEUXVjv0esKJvVk74QOid7lPDljnM-y-vhiZuDpywdIGTuVwLVWRDzTPb-Lit8K9w_r0UjyXi-cZdJ0jpl3_Y6nzIBFDKOfHeQgqLNYQQ4QMuH8A1HyMbV2YzZXdYN6J8PVooHuV-kT9pdr8K6Mq3r9bf2bIQC8rirxhIhQPJIytZE_XtmAHQ/s1000/Florence%20McElroy-3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp_dw_tMEUXVjv0esKJvVk74QOid7lPDljnM-y-vhiZuDpywdIGTuVwLVWRDzTPb-Lit8K9w_r0UjyXi-cZdJ0jpl3_Y6nzIBFDKOfHeQgqLNYQQ4QMuH8A1HyMbV2YzZXdYN6J8PVooHuV-kT9pdr8K6Mq3r9bf2bIQC8rirxhIhQPJIytZE_XtmAHQ/w240-h320/Florence%20McElroy-3.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Florence Dascombe McElroy</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She did tell the census taker that they owned their home, which she estimated was worth $40,000 ($715,000 today) and they did own a radio set. She said her husband's job was "Vice President" of an "Oil Company." </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I mentioned earlier in this article that Robert McElroy had been a big man. He stood over six feet four inches tall and weighed well over 200 lbs. In about 1937 he started losing weight unexpectedly. In addition he reported that he had no energy and it was a struggle just to find the energy to get out of bed in the morning. After running extensive tests he was told the diagnosis: Cancer of the Liver - inoperable. His doctor was the beloved Evanston physician Joseph D. Croft. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Babe and her mother dealt with McElroy's illness in different ways. Babe sat by her father's hospital bedside for days on end, furiously knitting as she watched him wasting away. She said that by the time her father died she had hand-knitted blankets for almost everyone on the hospital staff who had taken care of her father. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Florence McElroy, on the other hand, went about her life as if nothing was wrong - nothing had changed. She rarely visited her husband in the hospital.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Robert Hemmington McElroy died in Evanston Hospital June 25, 1938. He was sixty-one years old, and weighed less than one hundred lbs. when he died. The Cause of Death was liver cancer with the contributing factor of heart failure. He had requested that he be cremated, and had picked out a magnificent urn to house his ashes. However his widow didn't want to do that, and had his body buried in a casket and a vault in the conventional manner. Perhaps Florence Dascombe McElroy's High-Church Episcopalian upbringing would not allow her to have her husband cremated as had been his wish.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Florence McElroy purchased ten graves in Section S of Rosehill Cemetery in Chicago. When asked why she had purchased so many graves so responded that "she did not want to be near anybody." </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Robert McElroy's death of course was covered by all the major newspapers. Here is a sampling:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">From the Chicago Tribune - June 27, 1938</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiieGLNqFWO4tuX8qcyQ65bVe-QW5pXgqJ76TXshsgeRkqDhRlljo-ZgX2XDUkxchmP_FXTNoHRY2hV-8cVwSaqhSWV075VCMwc48-bmSvj95-Xn8EKenak_SAv0vUvPuW-Oh-JB_PxPTyVz5z0jvmwNB7zzffGhewCO_ZoqHwBjPI4i6gSEGQXXecQIQ/s1600/McElroy%20Obit.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="586" height="791" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiieGLNqFWO4tuX8qcyQ65bVe-QW5pXgqJ76TXshsgeRkqDhRlljo-ZgX2XDUkxchmP_FXTNoHRY2hV-8cVwSaqhSWV075VCMwc48-bmSvj95-Xn8EKenak_SAv0vUvPuW-Oh-JB_PxPTyVz5z0jvmwNB7zzffGhewCO_ZoqHwBjPI4i6gSEGQXXecQIQ/w289-h791/McElroy%20Obit.jpg" width="289" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">From the Tulsa (OK) World - June 28, 1938</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXX9rYPdKh79K1KDpEaczhsa2-I8Zm5OTlyvKJtamXAso5FWlFIipUTuqR7eDrLXqCYaPSL-NmZY0AfCeRS-qJXpscmWgOJ3hpz4b0M_bgUxOPjH1UgQkLuvS8ViKkjMxj_4fbxNPCsE8E_PBaTZrQNq5-g82kNBlBJb1Br7XSSXRk_S069SSWGfikQ/s505/Tulsa%20World%2028%20Jun%201938.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="505" data-original-width="397" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXX9rYPdKh79K1KDpEaczhsa2-I8Zm5OTlyvKJtamXAso5FWlFIipUTuqR7eDrLXqCYaPSL-NmZY0AfCeRS-qJXpscmWgOJ3hpz4b0M_bgUxOPjH1UgQkLuvS8ViKkjMxj_4fbxNPCsE8E_PBaTZrQNq5-g82kNBlBJb1Br7XSSXRk_S069SSWGfikQ/w315-h400/Tulsa%20World%2028%20Jun%201938.JPG" width="315" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">His Death Notice from the Chicago Tribune - June 27, 1938:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRGOepBJfetjJcGtZ5mbRjkf5sJ1X-Zx0vCpvJxMtg2i4DlU4JwnV9mI7VlCVrNDdEfoMYuzj8RYvAepkUAFGtESUs620rzuMRCOpDhkTU78Y1gUZVRVFlggnweJbunU_vduSFyyYWDrV39WXPAGInJy8fiFk3mtlTxpzuKMXd2vSnEA48_IO5X1Y6wA/s330/Death%20Notice.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="102" data-original-width="330" height="124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRGOepBJfetjJcGtZ5mbRjkf5sJ1X-Zx0vCpvJxMtg2i4DlU4JwnV9mI7VlCVrNDdEfoMYuzj8RYvAepkUAFGtESUs620rzuMRCOpDhkTU78Y1gUZVRVFlggnweJbunU_vduSFyyYWDrV39WXPAGInJy8fiFk3mtlTxpzuKMXd2vSnEA48_IO5X1Y6wA/w400-h124/Death%20Notice.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The newspapers even reported the details of his funeral. From the Munster (IN) Times - June 28, 1938:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-mVrfS8VwB8bqsFXS5JBsir33MhJZLbRoDI7EoIHw0kDq49c6eoNLbhiTGajYisBwyJwyBF25kU4m-a_UVmgZxXyezQIQQnlCSFqUZInne0n1h2ObTbrAwtPWD3lJoSIK55ZmFE_yVDyujpD5uXkPkjhdmxqoWyyyrea6cMTQcpn3ejO4sl3Fky4vOw/s2918/The_Times_1938_06_28_page_10.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2918" data-original-width="756" height="1056" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-mVrfS8VwB8bqsFXS5JBsir33MhJZLbRoDI7EoIHw0kDq49c6eoNLbhiTGajYisBwyJwyBF25kU4m-a_UVmgZxXyezQIQQnlCSFqUZInne0n1h2ObTbrAwtPWD3lJoSIK55ZmFE_yVDyujpD5uXkPkjhdmxqoWyyyrea6cMTQcpn3ejO4sl3Fky4vOw/w274-h1056/The_Times_1938_06_28_page_10.jpg" width="274" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As mentioned, he was buried in Lot 277, section S of Rosehill Cemetery underneath a beautiful Vermont Marble monument:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP7tBs05ctdVUV5Onp4HxjLakQcB63P9MzGodKveKj1mAgg_YlCsxH8pEP0XBnLctQYZZGFrDZuaeGDzLh4iX3hhHMoqXM2eXzVnT8oBjRQzXU79HXm7jhV-Q_m1TfyhypgOkzSo-TdclmdzbFO2vFvqOeColYlahtOnZCeA17MaShO9wzurG2fa50mg/s3264/McElroy%20Momument.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="1832" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP7tBs05ctdVUV5Onp4HxjLakQcB63P9MzGodKveKj1mAgg_YlCsxH8pEP0XBnLctQYZZGFrDZuaeGDzLh4iX3hhHMoqXM2eXzVnT8oBjRQzXU79HXm7jhV-Q_m1TfyhypgOkzSo-TdclmdzbFO2vFvqOeColYlahtOnZCeA17MaShO9wzurG2fa50mg/w225-h400/McElroy%20Momument.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCFMhC1J10DBeiWIrULZ6r1A4YXLeZOKhwolI8n_eMcGYKHxzkiRSgWTZ-T3V1llZtXUTVSvv_LANftAhDssx890lWGRB-gmRZffVvcskifCd1ZHoselTy4_7NY_Q6T6C3-swMV8FOwWNzuKPudG-N-GlZQ2FHOfm-hjRxs7Xu8a-wZ2IC1TSV08DLlA/s3264/IMG_5456.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1832" data-original-width="3264" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCFMhC1J10DBeiWIrULZ6r1A4YXLeZOKhwolI8n_eMcGYKHxzkiRSgWTZ-T3V1llZtXUTVSvv_LANftAhDssx890lWGRB-gmRZffVvcskifCd1ZHoselTy4_7NY_Q6T6C3-swMV8FOwWNzuKPudG-N-GlZQ2FHOfm-hjRxs7Xu8a-wZ2IC1TSV08DLlA/w400-h225/IMG_5456.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Robert Hemmington McElroy, Sr. - from newspaper boy to corporate giant - may he rest in peace.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>The rest of the story:</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Florence Dascombe McElroy stayed in the house on Sheridan Road in Wilmette until she was in her late 80s, at which time she took an apartment on the lakefront in Chicago. She died on August 22, 1967 at the age of 90.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Robert Hemmington McElroy, Jr. worked his way up to become a Vice President of the Pure Oil Company. He died on October 23, 1969 at the age of 71.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ailzia "Babe" McElroy Drake died October 28, 2004 at the age of 102. Her father had asked her to be buried next to him when her time came, and she was.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Florence McElroy never learned how to drive. After Robert McElroy's death she had his 1927 Lincoln put up on blocks in the garage behind 704 Sheridan Road where it remained until she sold the house in Wilmette in the mid 1960s. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here is the house at 704 Sheridan Road in Wilmette when the McElroys lived there:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6hY3zngObsS0ldsn___yGt479FR5DDiQoO-iodIWEXXOpomBg8k-AYGO7GcLhn7k2EGPYu9dtu9hSk9HuOgoD57cbJV8SpjaTXjLGCF05BFC91DvU62q8JDKltSI91DVX8f_iSVoqpoq2NiAtxcCgKvUoPpbFSKK_AQH3YWJlhzXPZETS595HfDQmg/s633/704%20Sheridan%20Road-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="343" data-original-width="633" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6hY3zngObsS0ldsn___yGt479FR5DDiQoO-iodIWEXXOpomBg8k-AYGO7GcLhn7k2EGPYu9dtu9hSk9HuOgoD57cbJV8SpjaTXjLGCF05BFC91DvU62q8JDKltSI91DVX8f_iSVoqpoq2NiAtxcCgKvUoPpbFSKK_AQH3YWJlhzXPZETS595HfDQmg/w640-h346/704%20Sheridan%20Road-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">In 2022 it was subjected to a gut rehab. Here's what it looks like today:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD-dQmMAPs-stXPgc3ejK_GH0CcYsjGT4S_sLFLIFIEW3S1MX367Zv0YaQJ0rM-G43PD6Q1fojRszhGfpxj6wo1gypiHZtxzUHYeoPYwtcaMmOr9R9NFejTVOr-MgR1tQDpkz10_wJ08YzPoH1ibk8VcTDigRUkDLtRa7ToBnfQJXwffbDP8zGLrY8Hg/s667/704%20Sheridan%202022.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="369" data-original-width="667" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD-dQmMAPs-stXPgc3ejK_GH0CcYsjGT4S_sLFLIFIEW3S1MX367Zv0YaQJ0rM-G43PD6Q1fojRszhGfpxj6wo1gypiHZtxzUHYeoPYwtcaMmOr9R9NFejTVOr-MgR1tQDpkz10_wJ08YzPoH1ibk8VcTDigRUkDLtRa7ToBnfQJXwffbDP8zGLrY8Hg/w640-h354/704%20Sheridan%202022.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The first time I saw it after the "rehab" I was so shocked I almost drove off the road. There oughta be a law...</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div></div><p></p></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-41933270546395786352023-01-01T16:26:00.001-08:002023-04-12T11:51:36.955-07:00YOU WOULD NEVER KNOW THAT HE WAS A HERO - Fr. Joseph Ognibene<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Anyone who was old enough to be aware of the news on December 1-2, 1958 knows the story of the terrible tragedy of the fire at Our Lady of the Angels Catholic elementary school in Chicago. It not only made the news around the United States, friends of mine in Europe told me the story was all over their news as well. Here's the front page of the Chicago Tribune from that fateful day:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5zEkjcBvrqMXaqf8YneyluJgmdK38w-4VVwA0fJkjszx_mQPb6M6E5B5hEV5urbD3eG4OaS9khUygsLtYAUKByNsrCwmhps9QFpGGk4ESokgrZoXw-hVn1NhbUuKat8Qrul4a4YIjpWz0PMt6jc7A6bNgZZR7jyA8T4AE_5NHjDspSD3BeE1YIqFrqg/s8151/12.02.1958.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8151" data-original-width="5539" height="961" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5zEkjcBvrqMXaqf8YneyluJgmdK38w-4VVwA0fJkjszx_mQPb6M6E5B5hEV5urbD3eG4OaS9khUygsLtYAUKByNsrCwmhps9QFpGGk4ESokgrZoXw-hVn1NhbUuKat8Qrul4a4YIjpWz0PMt6jc7A6bNgZZR7jyA8T4AE_5NHjDspSD3BeE1YIqFrqg/w652-h961/12.02.1958.jpg" width="652" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">If you are not familiar with the story of this tragedy you could look it up on Wikipedia:</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Our_Lady_of_the_Angels_School_fire">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Our_Lady_of_the_Angels_School_fire</a></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">or go to the website dedicated to victims and survivors:</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://olafire.com/home.asp?">https://olafire.com/home.asp?</a></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This article is not about the fire itself or the victims - much has been written about them in other places. Instead I will tell about someone who is also part of the story: Father Joseph Ognibene, one of the Assistant Pastors at Our Lady of the Angels. But before we look at his actions that day as Joseph Ognibene, priest, let's first take a look at Joseph Ognibene, the person.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Joseph Francis Ognibene was born April 17, 1926 in Chicago to Joseph Salvatore Ognibene (1894-1993) and Agnes H. Petrino (1896-1966). Sometimes Agnes' maiden name is listed as "Petrino", other times as "Petrine". Both Joseph and Agnes were born in New York but their parents were immigrants. <span style="font-family: inherit;">The Ognibene Family came from <span style="text-align: left;">Caltanissetta, </span>Sicily; the Petrino Family came from Basilicata, Italy.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Joseph and Agnes married in Chicago, Illinois on June 10, 1920. The groom was twenty-five; the bride was twenty-three.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Joseph and Agnes Ognibene were blessed with five children: Rev. Salvatore (Sam) J. (1922-1999), Rev. Joseph Francis (1926-2003), Matilda Agnes/Mrs. Charles Eugling (1930-1998), Agnes/Mrs. Don Love (b. 1933), and Eugene C. (b. 1941). Joseph Salvatore Ognibene was a Banker by trade, having been employed by the Mid-City National Bank for 40 years, and was a Vice President when he retired. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Joseph Francis Ognibene makes his first appearance in the 1930 US Census. The Ognibene family was living at 4025 Menard Avenue in Chicago:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGQKePXQAyzf728jH7A3BzTEPivNMDzJDipDXngjOG_Ps5Q-azv5t1eTj8CqnJCvExsdvd0_R1lstcW1jgfqggGjz0_NTbZroG3hjxmRqZoxaW1pl-281tYjPJ83D3qOC2lgrW421Wl2H8--hEQX7VfC0aGJPT3OoN9MobWcxE7hM-ooy6FuhN_VaMw/s660/4025%20N.%20Menard%20Chicago.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="660" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGQKePXQAyzf728jH7A3BzTEPivNMDzJDipDXngjOG_Ps5Q-azv5t1eTj8CqnJCvExsdvd0_R1lstcW1jgfqggGjz0_NTbZroG3hjxmRqZoxaW1pl-281tYjPJ83D3qOC2lgrW421Wl2H8--hEQX7VfC0aGJPT3OoN9MobWcxE7hM-ooy6FuhN_VaMw/w640-h434/4025%20N.%20Menard%20Chicago.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4025 N. Menard, Chicago, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The family consisted of Joseph Ognibene (35 years old), Agnes (33), Samuel (8) and Joseph (3 11/12). They owned their home, and said it was worth $10,000.00. Joseph Sr. listed his occupation as "Teller in a Bank." He also reported that he had served in the US Military and fought in World War I.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">At the time of the 1940 US Census, the Ognibene family was still living at 4025 N. Menard, but the family had grown since 1930. It now consisted of Joseph (45 years old), Agnes (43), Samuel (18), Joseph (14), Matilda (10) and Agnes (7). They still owned their home, but now said it was worth $5,000.00 (this was after the Great Depression). Joseph and Agnes had only gone as far as the second year of high school; Samuel had completed his high school education. Joseph Sr still listed his occupation as "Teller in a Bank."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Joseph Ognibene started high school at St. Michael High School in the Old Town neighborhood of Chicago. He completed his freshman year at St. Michael's and then in the Fall of 1941 he transferred to one of the minor seminaries for the Archdiocese of Chicago, Quigley North Preparatory Seminary where he began his studies for the Sacred Priesthood. He was fifteen years old. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">During World War II, even though he was a seminarian, Joseph F. Ognibene was required to register for the Draft. He did so on April 17, 1944. His home address was still the house on Menard. He was eighteen years old. His phone number was PAlisade 1-3093. He said he was a "Student" and listed his father as "Person Who Will Always Know Your Address." He was said to be White, 6 feet tall and 140 lbs. He had Brown eyes, Black hair and a "Ruddy" complexion.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Joseph Ognibene as part of the graduating Class of 1945 at Quigley North. Here is his writeup from the 1945 Quigley North yearbook, </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">La Petit Seminaire:</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizOzwBFHjZl7TPm69Qg22Y2YqEu_xprtWpAaRtE4spUhmr70AA-1TA_PwgpkY00_QuiQNbYsgm4O7h0u-kfeGxiFheiqD1VsiO6wqqU4Nq2xMiW0_NWQD_9fFhlhqf02QmJjqlgfx0VuAH_etLbBK6Y8RJE6DZbueaa8i1iUVWuimTBiKUuYLmv61rrw/s902/1945%20Yearbook.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="413" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizOzwBFHjZl7TPm69Qg22Y2YqEu_xprtWpAaRtE4spUhmr70AA-1TA_PwgpkY00_QuiQNbYsgm4O7h0u-kfeGxiFheiqD1VsiO6wqqU4Nq2xMiW0_NWQD_9fFhlhqf02QmJjqlgfx0VuAH_etLbBK6Y8RJE6DZbueaa8i1iUVWuimTBiKUuYLmv61rrw/w294-h640/1945%20Yearbook.JPG" width="294" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">He graduated from Quigley North in June of 1945 when he was nineteen years old. Then it was off to the Major Seminary for Chicago, St. Mary of the Lake in Mundelein, Illinois.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXfKD7AsYhy9bk09MQbEj7p_dvBQ6pPQaa5i6RzoP_bp0XA4J0SKpS70k_RlKx6eUSJ0Tl-dWoMPgTVnmYg9tQ6GBI-L-IIoK_hkAXrSgXCNKHGHKxxUqSNw-j4noTf3P7EmfxKmfuC4jSoVDtF6Edp_ta-nWwRUgJnv7eIF0WK3TBysLpL-DUs_N62g/s1528/St%20Mary%20of%20the%20Lake%20color.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="989" data-original-width="1528" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXfKD7AsYhy9bk09MQbEj7p_dvBQ6pPQaa5i6RzoP_bp0XA4J0SKpS70k_RlKx6eUSJ0Tl-dWoMPgTVnmYg9tQ6GBI-L-IIoK_hkAXrSgXCNKHGHKxxUqSNw-j4noTf3P7EmfxKmfuC4jSoVDtF6Edp_ta-nWwRUgJnv7eIF0WK3TBysLpL-DUs_N62g/w640-h414/St%20Mary%20of%20the%20Lake%20color.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">At the time of the 1950 US census, Joseph Ognibene was living at St. Mary of the Lake Seminary. The Census for St. Mary's was taken April 17, 1950 which just happened to be his twenty-fourth birthday. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">It took seventeen pages for the census taker to list everyone who lived at St. Mary of the Lake. Faculty, Staff, Students, Maintenence Crews - it was like a city in itself. Joseph Ognibene was listed on Page 12. It said he was a White Male, who had Never Married, and was twenty-three years old (he must have been interviewed before his birthday). He was not working, nor was he looking for work. He was listed as a "Student."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Joseph Ognibene became Father Joseph Ognibene after graduating from St. Mary of the Lake Seminary and being ordained on May 1, 1952 by the beloved Samuel Cardinal Stritch. Here is a photo of Fr. Ognibene taken shortly after his Ordination:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiseNA-kPNeGPOhPn5WFED9gvZ_jfMSLuWwqc_61FNjJoIMtODJXRiN-mvUT48uB94T3qf5d5uWJeBi_UJTd8CInfT2LnBAshmYPdCQnmZEGDF-6z5pN_b5-YKCPMjYgPm6CPjPuFipaccTVUC5zouKeSQRGKrmfacvVlhWWpY-t1avywkZHPqPhvlWgw/s659/Fr.%20Ognibene.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="659" data-original-width="437" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiseNA-kPNeGPOhPn5WFED9gvZ_jfMSLuWwqc_61FNjJoIMtODJXRiN-mvUT48uB94T3qf5d5uWJeBi_UJTd8CInfT2LnBAshmYPdCQnmZEGDF-6z5pN_b5-YKCPMjYgPm6CPjPuFipaccTVUC5zouKeSQRGKrmfacvVlhWWpY-t1avywkZHPqPhvlWgw/w265-h400/Fr.%20Ognibene.JPG" width="265" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fr. Joseph Ognibene</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Ognibene's first assignment was as Assistant Pastor at Our Lady of the Angels Parish at 3808 W. Iowa Street in the Humboldt Park neighborhood of Chicago. Some also refer to it as the "Austin neighborhood." </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB0Fewo4dqwgsu1pRlOpoXwPmY_dcgGGzeFskq2G-1hArz4qm8mgBbgqwmXYHZMk4hL8pc-jI8fxOnI2fG9BcwwrSnvV26YgiZfOVgRmWa4Za-rjqlVpcyS8px4jN_fbDpurB3ylIaGAxOW_nGeOTlV9EstELon9DtS53rDGP6-CszlY0QMCcSu_DmqA/s687/Our%20Lady%20of%20the%20angels.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="516" data-original-width="687" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB0Fewo4dqwgsu1pRlOpoXwPmY_dcgGGzeFskq2G-1hArz4qm8mgBbgqwmXYHZMk4hL8pc-jI8fxOnI2fG9BcwwrSnvV26YgiZfOVgRmWa4Za-rjqlVpcyS8px4jN_fbDpurB3ylIaGAxOW_nGeOTlV9EstELon9DtS53rDGP6-CszlY0QMCcSu_DmqA/w494-h370/Our%20Lady%20of%20the%20angels.jpg" width="494" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Lady of the Angels, 3808 W. Iowa Street, Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At that time the parish was run by a pastor, Rt. Rev. Msgr. Joseph F. Cussen. In addition to Fr. Ognibene, there were five other priests assisting Msgr. Cussen with the day-to-day administration of Our Lady of the Angels. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As you can imagine, Fr. Ognibene's name did not appear in the local newspapers very often in those days. He quietly went about his duties as Assistant Pastor: saying daily Mass, officiating at baptisms and</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> weddings, making sick calls to parishioners who were ill and saying Requiem Masses for the departed. When his name was in the paper it was usually in connection with the performance of his duties, as with this announcement from the Chicago Suburban Economist from March 19, 1958:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYNpFGxklNxf6_0kqTb8sf81Kv6VKY24GDV0sXr0jcelzLqz5yQKAVnD3PGyfDz3MRhEWePy7u0Kj-qDDpzaZq0WCbT2AO7XZ5uB4WCoK1i--lFfM6S0hgzShSaByO6nIosAym39kUlWePfn9giOChRgs0Xfy7x5f-A5jJQewnysqHgv35vq15qtinvQ/s212/19%20Mar%201958.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="212" data-original-width="199" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYNpFGxklNxf6_0kqTb8sf81Kv6VKY24GDV0sXr0jcelzLqz5yQKAVnD3PGyfDz3MRhEWePy7u0Kj-qDDpzaZq0WCbT2AO7XZ5uB4WCoK1i--lFfM6S0hgzShSaByO6nIosAym39kUlWePfn9giOChRgs0Xfy7x5f-A5jJQewnysqHgv35vq15qtinvQ/w601-h640/19%20Mar%201958.JPG" width="601" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Or this from the same newspaper of May 28, 1958 when he awarded trophies to "Typical Teens" <br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVc4HnMml6dhzFHPH36JV6SRwjIxfBOadgDEBdkQqiGss8XYuszyXrPS4ES6nlJTB3jxlqwZNImOXwik5XoWeD_4CNFavbjamsIFXtpLiJM6eyMBd_JC9yMfm0xhcPfMvXNv4b05DbOZ70D0a9wpQRHRzs9XSDujvzGfdb22r_4GRn82rW4V6U0tkazA/s589/May%2028,%201958.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="518" data-original-width="589" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVc4HnMml6dhzFHPH36JV6SRwjIxfBOadgDEBdkQqiGss8XYuszyXrPS4ES6nlJTB3jxlqwZNImOXwik5XoWeD_4CNFavbjamsIFXtpLiJM6eyMBd_JC9yMfm0xhcPfMvXNv4b05DbOZ70D0a9wpQRHRzs9XSDujvzGfdb22r_4GRn82rW4V6U0tkazA/w511-h448/May%2028,%201958.JPG" width="511" /></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><p style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In those pre-Vatican II days, St. Mary of the Angels was one of many large parishes in Chicago. </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">The neighborhood had originally been heavily Irish, but gradually developed in the first half of the twentieth century into a largely Italian middle-class community. The area was also home to several other first, second, and third-generation immigrant groups, including Germans, Poles, and other Slavs. Most of the families in the immediate neighborhood were Catholic.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></div></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This brings us up to the fateful day of December 1, 1958. I will let Fr. Ognibene himself describe where he was and what he was doing:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">(He said) It was his daily routine to walk about the schoolyard and near the entrances during recess, the noon lunch period and as the children left the building at 3 p.m. Monday (Dec. 1) he met an old friend for lunch. They dallied at the table. Then he noticed it would soon be time for his young parishioners to leave school for home. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">"I was hurrying to the school in my car. I saw smoke coming from the upper windows and drove my car the wrong way up a one-way street. I parked the car and ran into the building. Some children were leaving the building in an orderly manner. Others were running about, screaming. Then everything was ablaze."</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Father Ognibene, together with parent Sam Tortorice helped children escape from the rear window of room 209 and into a window in the annex. From there they could flee down a steel internal stairway and out the Iowa Street side of the school.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">"I tried...I wanted to...It was the will of God." When the first bodies began arriving at the morgue, Fr. Ognibene was asked to make tentative identification. He knew the greatest force of the fire was concentrated in the section housing Rooms 207, 208, 209, 211 and 212. Scores of these children he knew by name. All were his friends. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Yet when had to identify them by name or grade he could only whisper "I'm not sure of this little one...I think this one was in 209...This boy was...I'm not sure."</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">He pressed a thin shaking hand to his temple. For a moment it appeared he might collapse. An attendant pressed a bottle of (smelling) salts to the priest's nostrils and he straightened up, backing away from the pungent odor. Then he walked among the bereaved relatives.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After all the funerals were over, and all the prelates and politicians had gone home, life at Our Lady of the Angels Parish tried to return to some semblance of normalcy. Fr. Joseph Ognibene continued to minister to the parishioners - especially to children injured in the fire who remained hospitalized for months of painful skin grafts and therapy. When he did visit, he did it in his usual low-key way. Luciana Mordini Kuziw, who was 11 when she was injured in the fire, said "I would wake up in the middle of the night and he'd be standing in the doorway, looking over me. He was an amazing man, always there for us and for the other families." </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fr. Ognibene was transferred from Our Lady of the Angels in 1961. As the years passed, he did not like to talk about the fire, or his actions that saved so many of the children. Humble and emotionally scarred by the fire, he always downplayed his role in the rescue. He just said it was part of his job. He was </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">always </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;">very concerned about the people who lost their lives. Many were children he had baptized. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After serving as Associate Pastor at Our Lady of the Angels, he went on to serve as Associate at Our Lady Help of Christians, St. Ferdinand, and St. Francis of Rome parishes. In 1973 he was appointed pastor of the former St. Beatrice Parish in Schiller Park. His final assignment was in 1983 as pastor of Our Lady Mother of the Church parish in Norridge, where he led a major renovation project. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1996 Fr. Ognibene retired, and went to live at St. Colette Parish in Rolling Meadows, Illinois where he died on December 19, 2003 of cancer. Here is his wake card:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifu5Ha5It5q_S_kQ7uFB25ihBW6C1AviuZogDxlZMYoiApXy2Oqfxo_WOM2apZo_o-pJjmr-RkOybamh0u9wArCGxkvuWvOsnCOaWqsdpyQ_-yCFft1ZU4vymqifBIef5VQWow4mNt2dOkQkmCEC322xz_lnbz-VyrKdJTomywAhb82ebUwqM8I4QM4g/s1311/Ognibene%20Wake%20Card.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1311" data-original-width="821" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifu5Ha5It5q_S_kQ7uFB25ihBW6C1AviuZogDxlZMYoiApXy2Oqfxo_WOM2apZo_o-pJjmr-RkOybamh0u9wArCGxkvuWvOsnCOaWqsdpyQ_-yCFft1ZU4vymqifBIef5VQWow4mNt2dOkQkmCEC322xz_lnbz-VyrKdJTomywAhb82ebUwqM8I4QM4g/w400-h640/Ognibene%20Wake%20Card.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As you can imagine there was a substantial obituary for him in the Chicago Tribune of December 22, 2003:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKw90oiLLWIwK5fBs7YucXJnsamqBHd-etZwZGTr36FYhBEa3X8WXyW-7FhIctcgbDtAt6jRE_YeB0OiYMiC4dWAkX37JA81lZkIQSlLJcOOJVXEn2MzevOvNflPGknId6Nz2RKy-VnSVVZ0cPptMIa8vyUmXenXNeMcSXlc0JwMRv0DjAX2gteH0SfA/s612/22%20Dec%202003.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="591" height="664" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKw90oiLLWIwK5fBs7YucXJnsamqBHd-etZwZGTr36FYhBEa3X8WXyW-7FhIctcgbDtAt6jRE_YeB0OiYMiC4dWAkX37JA81lZkIQSlLJcOOJVXEn2MzevOvNflPGknId6Nz2RKy-VnSVVZ0cPptMIa8vyUmXenXNeMcSXlc0JwMRv0DjAX2gteH0SfA/w641-h664/22%20Dec%202003.JPG" width="641" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Here is his Death Notice from the same day:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcaH_rgY4BkyH3jK-9fe7T6A41AqhxxVTbKbpar47tuoNREsuOFiV4s1D6OE3DQXTyNgDBlPtjdAQsuy1h5qf9q4XhxHlOY2CSuVkDdQ9weGNvJghQwKp6ey40lD4mus1vy7WftXWA0vV1UdrpuFbREUPkEiEjRRnboEftDqLRPQ1hoohbQmrheiSs6g/s328/Ognibene%2022%20Dec%202003.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="318" data-original-width="328" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcaH_rgY4BkyH3jK-9fe7T6A41AqhxxVTbKbpar47tuoNREsuOFiV4s1D6OE3DQXTyNgDBlPtjdAQsuy1h5qf9q4XhxHlOY2CSuVkDdQ9weGNvJghQwKp6ey40lD4mus1vy7WftXWA0vV1UdrpuFbREUPkEiEjRRnboEftDqLRPQ1hoohbQmrheiSs6g/s320/Ognibene%2022%20Dec%202003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">He was buried in the Ognibene Family Plot at St. Joseph Cemetery in River Grove:</span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_k3Gjx5kZ7x0OStN0aICBGPygNwSkni24LqaV7cG_ycMfdSjnDxJR-9aRGBiYKZFMt3I-TnjQhn0X7hqwcK1SG3GZodnEdDkAa4B3555h9kvrL1AGXxYQ9eVMPgzRlI4VUvdVgMh-riVzBfXYO4VwV6ITKAMk79iDD6_HnVU8hvLsEyoecZG5msgYGw/s2018/1213221330.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1549" data-original-width="2018" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_k3Gjx5kZ7x0OStN0aICBGPygNwSkni24LqaV7cG_ycMfdSjnDxJR-9aRGBiYKZFMt3I-TnjQhn0X7hqwcK1SG3GZodnEdDkAa4B3555h9kvrL1AGXxYQ9eVMPgzRlI4VUvdVgMh-riVzBfXYO4VwV6ITKAMk79iDD6_HnVU8hvLsEyoecZG5msgYGw/s320/1213221330.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2oB1Wgp0nixgQCJretmQHtjOWR7RK7AvfBDCoTjJ8o-rWGv9fZihuEgXJUGgK87ygFDYhQ9VaYr7hlQmHiosyZOdwVOVgrOuEtaMSdgd2oMSuAgREPWZ7o3hbQIB0GLl4KjWvsV4CLxemghjoDLH_VhD5icZp-ZmzSKxupo4sFxO-avrpw61nSWaYXQ/s1613/1213221330b.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1210" data-original-width="1613" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2oB1Wgp0nixgQCJretmQHtjOWR7RK7AvfBDCoTjJ8o-rWGv9fZihuEgXJUGgK87ygFDYhQ9VaYr7hlQmHiosyZOdwVOVgrOuEtaMSdgd2oMSuAgREPWZ7o3hbQIB0GLl4KjWvsV4CLxemghjoDLH_VhD5icZp-ZmzSKxupo4sFxO-avrpw61nSWaYXQ/w570-h427/1213221330b.jpg" width="570" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fr. Ognibene was greatly beloved by parishioners at all of the parishes he served, but especially by those at Our Lady Mother of the Church. After his death, the parish erected a memorial garden to his memory outside the church:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="467" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_9kPIe7SDfflN1TA0SqyBthCLCIcR6hximYWM5JJKTP8Hkaz99IMEhUP7v3-VIhBHq-qGAG8Axq1nG9hTwsuh8JFuhUmiR1CBlcos7epz361dA5dLTR0zxL1JFgzUKn9d1F0hjLYjGc59GM8AKyZfKVRd4vVnHYy5key7wOL4SFs7pJDpjVsmc_AlA/w624-h467/1213221401a_HDR.jpg" width="624" /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfkzcOwBHMerLjSxL6AQ442hyQibYBUy_eiYRxdfhCrI5rX_oRAwgsavHuwc6duO_VEmLwyMA5OIYB_stfA4gVRz4Uzvw9x57Tv_W1Qc3-rbmsD55jPr9o-WKMRpTVw8vQASpYwACMDdnhVWn-jSDsdF8cgHp4Cy6dKMiKv1Chf1MNEnRLI8K5d3L1Xw/s1922/1213221401a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1403" data-original-width="1922" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfkzcOwBHMerLjSxL6AQ442hyQibYBUy_eiYRxdfhCrI5rX_oRAwgsavHuwc6duO_VEmLwyMA5OIYB_stfA4gVRz4Uzvw9x57Tv_W1Qc3-rbmsD55jPr9o-WKMRpTVw8vQASpYwACMDdnhVWn-jSDsdF8cgHp4Cy6dKMiKv1Chf1MNEnRLI8K5d3L1Xw/w400-h293/1213221401a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div> </span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">They also had the portion of Oakview Avenue nearest the church named after him:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGuxvKlbo4EQkm8ZYRpuIEmVeEGZsrrVh5IVBPQt3VoZ8OAxp4FHEYal0T2YdTcj1FIZ3xjONJzPUL2V_XpBI2eGaBwNcf41TrHqStgZutzKKY_W6_3h6NIpvSWt8DOsGymemZIMbKXewZ4dJ1ub2V0u1wRH7ip4oF7mJlGssK04_AmH0F7B0QshTRg/s4032/Ognibene%20Avenue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="511" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGuxvKlbo4EQkm8ZYRpuIEmVeEGZsrrVh5IVBPQt3VoZ8OAxp4FHEYal0T2YdTcj1FIZ3xjONJzPUL2V_XpBI2eGaBwNcf41TrHqStgZutzKKY_W6_3h6NIpvSWt8DOsGymemZIMbKXewZ4dJ1ub2V0u1wRH7ip4oF7mJlGssK04_AmH0F7B0QshTRg/w681-h511/Ognibene%20Avenue.jpg" width="681" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We never know in life whether or not we will ever be called upon to be a hero - to perform a selfless act to save another person without any regard for our own life in the process. On the afternoon of December 1, 1958 young Father Joseph Ognibene got that call - and saved as many children as he could. His only regret? That he couldn't save them all.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">May Fr. Joe Ognibene and all those from Our Lady of the Angels rest in peace.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">My personal connection: Unfortunately I never got to meet Fr. Ognibene, but I was able to know three people with connections to the OLA Fire: Father John Kobus, who was a second grader the day of the fire, and Al and Stella Kompanowski, who lost two sons in the fire: Richard and Kenneth. I was privileged to call each of them a friend.</span><span style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"> </span></p>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-90607277735942304562022-12-01T06:18:00.004-08:002023-08-15T12:33:50.933-07:00THE ASBURY HOME FOR CONVALESCENTS AND ELDERLY PEOPLE - Mrs. Martha Twitchell<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I have mentioned in the past that I check ebay on a daily basis for memorabilia from my home town, Evanston, Illinois. I have been quite lucky over the years and have managed to pick up some interesting pieces. Recently I was checking ebay and I saw that someone had listed several old telephone directories for Evanston from the 1940s. I found this on the back cover of one of the 1940s directories:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB2YneoONTcJuZIHoeKLKCK6RmhLUBydCqSqBrSjCbzkorzLSafaiyqNF3E4aZQ4MZpZ9AbRAdAS4jpSONiChkP-OiA_ujsXEz9EOba6sGZGm30Hrm9trp_OxEPy0QTp8G5Befw1X0jgnF0NewcPf2sO8kl0_QuPZuzyNB2-ms0o4VlFb-NeM67seUUA/s1419/Asbur%20Home-3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1419" data-original-width="949" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB2YneoONTcJuZIHoeKLKCK6RmhLUBydCqSqBrSjCbzkorzLSafaiyqNF3E4aZQ4MZpZ9AbRAdAS4jpSONiChkP-OiA_ujsXEz9EOba6sGZGm30Hrm9trp_OxEPy0QTp8G5Befw1X0jgnF0NewcPf2sO8kl0_QuPZuzyNB2-ms0o4VlFb-NeM67seUUA/w428-h640/Asbur%20Home-3.jpg" width="428" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">BTW - the hole in the upper right corner enabled you to hang the directory next to your telephone. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span>I was very familiar with Marquette Coal and Mining Company - we bought heating oil from them when I was a child. But it was the other advertisement that piqued my curiosity</span><span>: The Asbury Home - for Convalescents and Elderly People. A lifelong Evanstonian, I had never heard of The Asbury Home, so I figured that it might be an interesting story for this blog, and it is. Before we look at The Asbury Home itself, we need to take a look at the Founder and Manager, Martha (Mrs. Ross) Twitchell. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Martha Elizabeth Johnson was born in Evanston, Illinois on April 30, 1889 to Martin J. Johnson (1854-1920) and Elizabeth "Betsy" Larson Johnson (1856-1915). Martin Johnson was a Clothes Cutter by trade. Martin and Betsy Johnson had nine children: James Garfield Johnson (1882-1938), Anna K. Johnson/Mrs. Frank Hoppe (1884-1960), Oscar Adolph Johnson (1886-1966), Ruth Victoria Johnson/Mrs. Charles Bourke (1887-1968), Martha Elizabeth Johnson/Mrs. Ross Twitchell (1889-1961), Merritt Martin Johnson (1892-1969), Albert Edward Johnson (1893-1961), and Charles William Johnson (1897-1950). There was also a ninth child who died at a young age that I was unable to identify.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Martha makes her first appearance in the 1900 US Census. The family was living at 1723 Ridge in Evanston. A modern condominium building occupies that spot today. The family consisted of Martin Johnson (45 years old), Betsey (43), James G. (18), Annie (15), Oscar (14), Ruth (12), Martha (11), Merrit (8), Albert (6), and Charles (3). In addition there were three "Boarders": Emma Johnson, Freida Johnson, and Freida Tumander. Emma and Freida T. reported their occupation as "Laundress," Freida J. was a "Seamstress." Martin Johnson said he was born in Illinois, was a "Tailor's Cutter," could read and write English and owned the family home. Betsey said she was born in Sweden, and emigrated in 1873. She reported that she had given birth to nine children, and eight of them were alive in 1900. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span><span>The 1910 Census showed the Johnsons still living at 1723 Ridge Avenue in Evanston. The family consisted of: Martin J. Johnson (55), Betty (54), James G. (27), Anna (25), Ruth V.</span></span><span> Palmer (22), her husband William Palmer (30), Martha Johnson (20), Merritt (18), Albert (16), and Charles (13). Martin Johnson reported his occupation as a "Tailor" in "Manufacturing." James worked in a Stationery Store, Anna was a Telephone Operator, William Palmer was a Clerk in a Hotel, and Merritt worked in "Dairy." No occupation was listed for Martha. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The 1910 US Census for the Johnson Family was reported on April 19, 1910. On August 10, 1910, Martha Johnson married Edward R. Rake. The bride was 18, the groom was 19.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Edward R. Rake (1891-1972) was born September 17, 1891 in Niles Township, Illinois. He was a Steamfitter by trade. The newlyweds moved into 2013 Livingston in Evanston:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5gUQFJEg4qc3wCAl_6D4IA8HqnZRCTG2GAUf785m4caIfOVBX19AM8IsuDqzyVotAhtu6F6f0XP3Tfj_vGt_ufiHY1bb86gTr1tnc0kkliDx7DOg2TKjo3u_C0sYr3jDXaSSiYndq_zorUDx_tZG2qPpl6VzPVjRJlTtRWixxfQfR8kpd0ajMSbL7Fg/s487/2013%20Livingston%20Evanston.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="411" data-original-width="487" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5gUQFJEg4qc3wCAl_6D4IA8HqnZRCTG2GAUf785m4caIfOVBX19AM8IsuDqzyVotAhtu6F6f0XP3Tfj_vGt_ufiHY1bb86gTr1tnc0kkliDx7DOg2TKjo3u_C0sYr3jDXaSSiYndq_zorUDx_tZG2qPpl6VzPVjRJlTtRWixxfQfR8kpd0ajMSbL7Fg/w400-h338/2013%20Livingston%20Evanston.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2013 Livingston, Evanston, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Martha and Edward were blessed with two children: Virginia Marguerite Rake (1911-1933) and Marshall Edward Rake (1912-1974). </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Before the 1920 US Census Martha had lost both of her parents. Her mother Betsy died September 29, 1915 at the age of fifty-nine and her father Martin died January 15, 1920 at the age of sixty-five.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The 1920 US Census for the Rake Family took place on January 30th and 31st, 1920. The Rake Family was living at 2506 Payne Street in Evanston:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoyV0muD-uo2kvPqwrdctU5eqs9Hkb1mvVQpkOIxCQ6THzSaDIVB7aMbhHZ-AzCh6zqTiC1Fke9v2ZVOYdSRz-2DTjOI8w0IRmUumDUkBoG-7njBKYwqqAsSAz9pTcqMVYWwq4pdgdqgyt6XFQ6PY2lLa3ZMc-lrBZ_VH8rwYmPLqlwVTVTVMlREPJ8w/s642/2506%20Payne%20Evanston.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="436" data-original-width="642" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoyV0muD-uo2kvPqwrdctU5eqs9Hkb1mvVQpkOIxCQ6THzSaDIVB7aMbhHZ-AzCh6zqTiC1Fke9v2ZVOYdSRz-2DTjOI8w0IRmUumDUkBoG-7njBKYwqqAsSAz9pTcqMVYWwq4pdgdqgyt6XFQ6PY2lLa3ZMc-lrBZ_VH8rwYmPLqlwVTVTVMlREPJ8w/w400-h271/2506%20Payne%20Evanston.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2506 Payne Street, Evanston, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The family consisted of Edward (28), Martha (30), Virginia (8) and Marshall (7). Edward said he was a "Steamfitter." Martha's father Martin Johnson had been living with them until his death on January 15. Her siblings Anna (34) and Charles (23) were also living with the Rakes.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">By 1922 the Rake Family had moved to 1623 Orrington Avenue in Evanston, above a store next to the YMCA:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXB-GIhBdz1cyDC3uFev2sBOQAm92S-f8ah4zQCUKv0gKyjIcsgDsPw-wIOak4gp7jAr-jryuwLJGSvHkyhGxZd8h52GCrArHFVJQdVQ211k5ZNwhMS3XucqhKrfARczsj6FfkpzOLA1voX4ax5lBZZIHiy3GEEthrwe5TNcwG97PRXfalMsZJ9Zh-vw/s1468/1623%20orrington.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="941" data-original-width="1468" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXB-GIhBdz1cyDC3uFev2sBOQAm92S-f8ah4zQCUKv0gKyjIcsgDsPw-wIOak4gp7jAr-jryuwLJGSvHkyhGxZd8h52GCrArHFVJQdVQ211k5ZNwhMS3XucqhKrfARczsj6FfkpzOLA1voX4ax5lBZZIHiy3GEEthrwe5TNcwG97PRXfalMsZJ9Zh-vw/w640-h410/1623%20orrington.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">By 1925 the Rake family had moved again - this time to 2526 Ridgeway Avenue in Evanston. A home built in 1998 sits on that plot today. Edward reported his business as "Hardware."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">In 1928 the Rakes moved to 2351 Ridge Avenue in Evanston:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEwttg8Z9oyxnoZlLht9Z-H9a_W4vUhm_1MHavd2HlHBC5IaJm0mn63VLvlSbDbK0csQjFlpfqv293r30FvAmYQJV11GJB4AW_K2vOeRpfWwlcOlkCYiUugSO0IVv1Sb9yIf2DTtlV4eq7D_SpvPJ_G0kSGySrk5m7lfkbhdgWP3yV7ljmtWFnS84E9g/s542/2351%20Ridge%20Evanston.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="442" data-original-width="542" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEwttg8Z9oyxnoZlLht9Z-H9a_W4vUhm_1MHavd2HlHBC5IaJm0mn63VLvlSbDbK0csQjFlpfqv293r30FvAmYQJV11GJB4AW_K2vOeRpfWwlcOlkCYiUugSO0IVv1Sb9yIf2DTtlV4eq7D_SpvPJ_G0kSGySrk5m7lfkbhdgWP3yV7ljmtWFnS84E9g/w400-h326/2351%20Ridge%20Evanston.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2351 Ridge Avenue, Evanston, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">There were significant changes in the Rake family by the time of the 1930 US Census. The biggest change was that Martha and Edward Rake had divorced. Martha and the children were still living at 2351 Ridge, but Edward was not. Edward went on by himself to open a hardware store at 1240 Chicago Avenue in Evanston.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The 1930 US Census reported that the Rake family now consisted of Martha (40), Virginia (19) and Marshall (17). In addition, there was also a Lodger, Ross Twichell. More on him later.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Martha told the Census Taker that she owned the house on Ridge free and clear and that it was worth $18,000 ($291,770 today). Martha reported no occupation and the young people were in school. Ross Twichell was a Mail Carrier and a Veteran of the World War. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">In 1931 Martha Johnson Rake married her Boarder, Ross Twichell. Ross' last name was sometimes spelled "Twichell" and sometimes "Twitchell." The bride was forty-two years old, the groom was thirty-four years old. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">On May 1, 1933, Martha's daughter Virginia died. She was twenty-one years old. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">She is buried in Memorial Park Cemetery in Skokie, Illinois:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfExsWpSFYjSj6SQFfdQOBtiwK6i4yT00DInyVDgWY9ZFxtjp4goyR5h9IxXVxPXtM-967LoXrhG0f257HNkmqxZ-aU5aGGe7u5nbI6PPckH0IoZlwovA2hxde-LjqhsS2uiNppFNdBToiuLXgQhZIUIJUUJ6naXrFI6uCnpHV9vXXmJsMEowEf2Hp9g/s1510/Rake,%20Virginia%20M..jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1047" data-original-width="1510" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfExsWpSFYjSj6SQFfdQOBtiwK6i4yT00DInyVDgWY9ZFxtjp4goyR5h9IxXVxPXtM-967LoXrhG0f257HNkmqxZ-aU5aGGe7u5nbI6PPckH0IoZlwovA2hxde-LjqhsS2uiNppFNdBToiuLXgQhZIUIJUUJ6naXrFI6uCnpHV9vXXmJsMEowEf2Hp9g/w400-h278/Rake,%20Virginia%20M..jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The house that used to sit at 1554 Asbury Avenue (the northwest corner of Asbury and Grove) in Evanston was built in 1894/95. Here is a copy of the application to build a "2 story and Basement + Attic" House:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb1A4t27xUa8GmWMuetWxa9mseVtiGr3il1LwkffnZ9Iuu6K1ovjaDAe6m6ZRIaJTsIGpX9Jx0OV6blj8YJ4UOzGYrQuF_cNhZThg94w9hWoV7XivgzJpGekyG4qXcdua19o0JSD2fGqTokk44SvenV_OQLsgkvy0oM7bSeuhhhmgozuu1NoGd8j8wzg/s2812/Application%20for%20Permit%201554%20Asbury.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2138" data-original-width="2812" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb1A4t27xUa8GmWMuetWxa9mseVtiGr3il1LwkffnZ9Iuu6K1ovjaDAe6m6ZRIaJTsIGpX9Jx0OV6blj8YJ4UOzGYrQuF_cNhZThg94w9hWoV7XivgzJpGekyG4qXcdua19o0JSD2fGqTokk44SvenV_OQLsgkvy0oM7bSeuhhhmgozuu1NoGd8j8wzg/w640-h486/Application%20for%20Permit%201554%20Asbury.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibrfcZuT2MLmdim5EhwETlWPWrVzhk3lIOGd3MNzB51Fo6ffzenwrajL3W1vKf-OCvwW8hTts_1MXaoI9DmppWjnprYiOeqIPNmcANh2J4gbBjHiEemdIUf-0EQ0xTKMzD1w66uwrBHcoXWJzoG5I8S_6qmKST8L22H1H1harkvDKNVid6q61k7ebk9A/s382/1554%20Asbury.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="311" data-original-width="382" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibrfcZuT2MLmdim5EhwETlWPWrVzhk3lIOGd3MNzB51Fo6ffzenwrajL3W1vKf-OCvwW8hTts_1MXaoI9DmppWjnprYiOeqIPNmcANh2J4gbBjHiEemdIUf-0EQ0xTKMzD1w66uwrBHcoXWJzoG5I8S_6qmKST8L22H1H1harkvDKNVid6q61k7ebk9A/w400-h326/1554%20Asbury.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1554 Asbury Avenue, Evanston, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">In all likelihood it was built as a rooming house or small hotel inasmuch as it had 23 rooms. Although people in those days had large families and live-in servants, it is unlikely that a family would need a 23 room house. The earliest reference I could find to 1554 Asbury was in 1895 when it was called the "Hotel Netherlands." Here is an ad from the Chicago Tribune of December 1, 1895:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhap9IfdJUSEWyapA2Nbb0zvlYto1TpR8ghaHA_452ysUtUs-nFjwpN6KRK3xCdsfjLgb94LPApEEXNuoXNharcJ7PLR2Gh7_A6fxETxfrwSs9_MyUt51lwOzqDVIZIKOi4STvVy0hXZRHP4t-mbolC5kyVltor5jE0D_azIo7cYrrOLLpUNPCWNNNu7w/s672/01%20Dec%201895.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="91" data-original-width="672" height="90" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhap9IfdJUSEWyapA2Nbb0zvlYto1TpR8ghaHA_452ysUtUs-nFjwpN6KRK3xCdsfjLgb94LPApEEXNuoXNharcJ7PLR2Gh7_A6fxETxfrwSs9_MyUt51lwOzqDVIZIKOi4STvVy0hXZRHP4t-mbolC5kyVltor5jE0D_azIo7cYrrOLLpUNPCWNNNu7w/w670-h90/01%20Dec%201895.JPG" width="670" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The Hotel Netherlands was still operating through 1909 although the owner, a "Mr. Caldwell" attempted to sell the building and furnishings as reported in the Chicago Tribune of January 24, 1904:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwaIn-8eS-4sogHrThFCMNjhG2pbsa4BIrYSLWr0D5gji1YirFO3CZubCnN3y7l0fyS8r6hsGhVGQ3WVitBoxPOcajZhVrTivPkI_8gaWjlxmiDx-BBKhaXHQD6SpKdcnRQ6Qo5Cxmb7ZEEmaHqt5ZsluDF8i3DKNYYIZZzFr2OiJjvA2iWJBgeOBXnA/s494/24%20Jan%201904.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="88" data-original-width="494" height="114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwaIn-8eS-4sogHrThFCMNjhG2pbsa4BIrYSLWr0D5gji1YirFO3CZubCnN3y7l0fyS8r6hsGhVGQ3WVitBoxPOcajZhVrTivPkI_8gaWjlxmiDx-BBKhaXHQD6SpKdcnRQ6Qo5Cxmb7ZEEmaHqt5ZsluDF8i3DKNYYIZZzFr2OiJjvA2iWJBgeOBXnA/w640-h114/24%20Jan%201904.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">In 1910 it changed names again, now being called "The Asbury" run by Mrs. Frances Diefendorf. This is from the Chicago Tribune from August 12, 1914:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW236IBd_m8x_bOB7GuzE9yDSIBzbyyQQF2Wd1FwAEYzbFV1hBSgUx12YPT7uIprRXy70lqXDZTg1qj9AkEhV20zgwpazbMuLwflmeQ6SXBBJA5uPzpe0NuYx__CbS7uq3uy9JS5WkBtOBPDL4jZV0tw5sqK01TfGV88L6w1UlUi0WvzhTBP4rwcMKXA/s369/12%20Aug%201914.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="71" data-original-width="369" height="124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW236IBd_m8x_bOB7GuzE9yDSIBzbyyQQF2Wd1FwAEYzbFV1hBSgUx12YPT7uIprRXy70lqXDZTg1qj9AkEhV20zgwpazbMuLwflmeQ6SXBBJA5uPzpe0NuYx__CbS7uq3uy9JS5WkBtOBPDL4jZV0tw5sqK01TfGV88L6w1UlUi0WvzhTBP4rwcMKXA/w640-h124/12%20Aug%201914.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Mrs. Diefendorf seemed determined to make The Asbury a world-class hotel, even advertising in the El Paso (TX) Herald in 1914:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiP6GPaZVEI_N9aVh-Zak0e3wkLmL17i9DfMwdaIcBDvnDfCF_8LYnIptjir2Hocs6U6NrYyFbMq4SosINnwnKopIL3KAh0qEXgfpZLIRmrAxbc2ipYJ1RLpx4g6XZOATW-PUlF4KzPqc8XpFzbiEz7M_QLx4YNlnSfimikkE6A_vM249FXenX9HYY_w/s175/18%20Jul%201914%20ad.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="164" data-original-width="175" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiP6GPaZVEI_N9aVh-Zak0e3wkLmL17i9DfMwdaIcBDvnDfCF_8LYnIptjir2Hocs6U6NrYyFbMq4SosINnwnKopIL3KAh0qEXgfpZLIRmrAxbc2ipYJ1RLpx4g6XZOATW-PUlF4KzPqc8XpFzbiEz7M_QLx4YNlnSfimikkE6A_vM249FXenX9HYY_w/w400-h375/18%20Jul%201914%20ad.JPG" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">1554 Asbury changed ownership in 1922 when it was renamed the "Asbury Apartments" owned by a man named Henry C. Landon. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">In 1925 it changed to the "Asbury Inn" run by Catherine Boyd.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">In 1929 it was now the "Asbury Hotel," run again by Henry C. Landon. Here is an ad from the Chicago Tribune from June 4, 1933:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhkVaVKUZmQkoJycd4cNdMLZ_DYtHM7gFvm-1mCAnz7yLhwBuw10hEHI1f9OtwyeC_DPa7gzV6Z_sTs68s9DnXFm2tSU-Go0OfK0SgANzz0nukU8Cjj87E3vdm7tlMDF7J-S_LLfpnrokhj0lytGlu-SCdVX_XTdGZ_GHBRHHV0Rx4WCU15TFo0z4Zyw/s484/04%20Jun%201933.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="45" data-original-width="484" height="60" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhkVaVKUZmQkoJycd4cNdMLZ_DYtHM7gFvm-1mCAnz7yLhwBuw10hEHI1f9OtwyeC_DPa7gzV6Z_sTs68s9DnXFm2tSU-Go0OfK0SgANzz0nukU8Cjj87E3vdm7tlMDF7J-S_LLfpnrokhj0lytGlu-SCdVX_XTdGZ_GHBRHHV0Rx4WCU15TFo0z4Zyw/w640-h60/04%20Jun%201933.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">remained the Asbury Hotel until 1935 when the building was bought by Martha Twitchell and opened as the The Asbury Home for Convalescents and Elderly People. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOtm4n9dPkzotMprEa6w0Wtj_6dm9q6LlQipUR5prMUpxaDnAkG3Tbmxh55ieuGQ6eiuKPSnMxWnOip7fVl8QEDRAyAw90UR3JU75lBkuK57oPHw09f0SfRrdjVdrCD-q091HDgEeyJSzY8k58AYllEd8pRkxqZhxsysm6p3zcdGBOkpynL4zA31fA_Q/s474/The%20Asbury%20Home.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="377" data-original-width="474" height="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOtm4n9dPkzotMprEa6w0Wtj_6dm9q6LlQipUR5prMUpxaDnAkG3Tbmxh55ieuGQ6eiuKPSnMxWnOip7fVl8QEDRAyAw90UR3JU75lBkuK57oPHw09f0SfRrdjVdrCD-q091HDgEeyJSzY8k58AYllEd8pRkxqZhxsysm6p3zcdGBOkpynL4zA31fA_Q/w640-h510/The%20Asbury%20Home.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">You would not expect a nursing home to generate much publicity and that is the case with the Asbury Home. In fact, the only time it was mentioned in the Chicago newspapers was in connection with an elderly resident who had passed away.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The 1940 US Census has one separate page devoted to the "Asbury Home for Convalescents." Ross Twichell was listed as the head. He said he was forty-three years old, and had completed four years of high school. He had lived in the same place in 1935. He listed his occupation as "Mail Carrier for the Post Office." He reported his income for 1939 as $2,100.00.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Martha Twichell was listed next. She said she was forty-nine years old (she was actually 50). She had also lived in the same place in 1935 and had gone as far as the 7th grade. Strangely she reported no income and no occupation.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Along with the Twichells in the Asbury House was one Registered Nurse, one Practical Nurse, two Maids and fourteen Patients.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The 1950 US Census shows Martha and Ross Twichell living at 1560 Asbury as opposed to the nursing home which is at 1554 Asbury. Ross lists his age as fifty-three; Martha said she was fifty-eight. They both list their occupation as "Co-Owner of Old Womens Home." Living with them are three Practical Nurses. The Nursing Home itself at 1554 Asbury lists one Private Nurse and fifteen "Lodgers." Among the Lodgers are Otto Foss and Julius McDermid. I wonder how they ended up in an "Old Womens Home."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Martha Twitchell died October 19, 1961 in Evanston. She was seventy-two years old. Here is her obituary from the Chicago Tribune of October 21, 1961:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYWNd7cH2AlRFRei458nmmARdAFWNVt0cZ0e2WvSLFbC-l307jyI577228yePOfo8S3K6OKKJNKbBBCElB0xziFbjJrypWFD8bjLtpw-y1lqkqV0b1kdEOsScAnzCBWaRGFpQSnbAtCVo-deGuj0AjJ_gQTB0kbsWcMYzg2u3RB0FedfRaKsTyMQJv3w/s238/Twichell%20Obit%2021%20Oct%201961.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="238" data-original-width="210" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYWNd7cH2AlRFRei458nmmARdAFWNVt0cZ0e2WvSLFbC-l307jyI577228yePOfo8S3K6OKKJNKbBBCElB0xziFbjJrypWFD8bjLtpw-y1lqkqV0b1kdEOsScAnzCBWaRGFpQSnbAtCVo-deGuj0AjJ_gQTB0kbsWcMYzg2u3RB0FedfRaKsTyMQJv3w/w353-h400/Twichell%20Obit%2021%20Oct%201961.JPG" width="353" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">and her Death Notice from the Chicago Tribune from October 22, 1961:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3oe_G3nWtv94eCSvvSW82LXJk7rhBk-uox2C_KxQvPqeB4aIzlNM9-dtCvMdC54Yh365H9YKNkyfeTe43nDJKn4VYjnb15el_144PslgBAi1Mz-xbIsInjTZJsP6fw1mZHmebonmTc0b_qAWSq_6fBsaHN_m_PhGiWJzJzzRCsm0FWCun3S1_RwU-Pw/s346/Twichell%20Death%20Notice%2022%20Oct%201961.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="170" data-original-width="346" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3oe_G3nWtv94eCSvvSW82LXJk7rhBk-uox2C_KxQvPqeB4aIzlNM9-dtCvMdC54Yh365H9YKNkyfeTe43nDJKn4VYjnb15el_144PslgBAi1Mz-xbIsInjTZJsP6fw1mZHmebonmTc0b_qAWSq_6fBsaHN_m_PhGiWJzJzzRCsm0FWCun3S1_RwU-Pw/w400-h196/Twichell%20Death%20Notice%2022%20Oct%201961.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Here is a photo of her grave at Memorial Park Cemetery in Skokie, Illinois:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXCo13Vih6NaEpdPQuSBrbZdXAS2aGpkzVV5mMlrgmwmt95Bzpza4ZMhwo7lA10h79dAGMVHjf0CONicwh3quKumK8sTsYMprGD02DwKe7FCn4ohLj5DVoeCWZMa_y8lJs4FZFbfd9GW3Fzp5h1PHFnM6VtO4-NLAbrlkUZnSR_fn-oFtbRydaxS6WfQ/s1327/Twichell,%20Martha.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="861" data-original-width="1327" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXCo13Vih6NaEpdPQuSBrbZdXAS2aGpkzVV5mMlrgmwmt95Bzpza4ZMhwo7lA10h79dAGMVHjf0CONicwh3quKumK8sTsYMprGD02DwKe7FCn4ohLj5DVoeCWZMa_y8lJs4FZFbfd9GW3Fzp5h1PHFnM6VtO4-NLAbrlkUZnSR_fn-oFtbRydaxS6WfQ/w400-h260/Twichell,%20Martha.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Her obituary mentions that Martha Twichell owned and operated two nursing homes in Evanston: the Asbury and the Ridgecrest. After Martha's death, the family decided to sell the Asbury and continue to operate just the Ridgecrest. In 1963 the building at 1554 Asbury was purchased by the Board of Pensions of the Methodist Church, which was at that time headquartered in Evanston. They applied for a permit to raze the building and a permit was issued in December of 1963:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkToeO3jKVjWsd46pBMu7pAyUNCNrO5pjzEeecesLmcYw-adKjIVeo9M1jDq_vI4idqthq2v-Br7vMw4EGCfsFfh0K7M8JOibppH9CMyHk7TCg1Z38u-TQc_m7yXEbw9_Ak7WGBdu_SLYmeLlUH575sAFE0ZunwaLxRCdRp3a7WC_MeN3u-lIBNeVPQw/s3053/Demolition%20Permit%201554%20Asbury%20-%201963.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3053" data-original-width="2500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkToeO3jKVjWsd46pBMu7pAyUNCNrO5pjzEeecesLmcYw-adKjIVeo9M1jDq_vI4idqthq2v-Br7vMw4EGCfsFfh0K7M8JOibppH9CMyHk7TCg1Z38u-TQc_m7yXEbw9_Ak7WGBdu_SLYmeLlUH575sAFE0ZunwaLxRCdRp3a7WC_MeN3u-lIBNeVPQw/w524-h640/Demolition%20Permit%201554%20Asbury%20-%201963.jpg" width="524" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1964 the Methodist Pension Board built several homes on the property that had been occupied by The Asbury Home. Perhaps they were built to house executives of the Pension Board - I was unable to verify that, but I do know that the houses are no longer owned by the Methodists. Perhaps someone who reads this article will be able to fill me in on the details. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I was never in the Asbury but I do have a personal connection here because my maternal grandmother was a resident of the Ridgecrest from 1965 until her death in February of 1966. The Ridgecrest Nursing and Convalescent Home was in a big old home on the northwest corner of Ridge Avenue and Church Street in Evanston. I was only nine years old when my grandmother moved into the Ridgecrest but I remember it well. My mother's oldest brother, Anthony J. "Tony" Kramer had been an alderman and Justice of the Peace in Evanston for many years. When it came time to look for a nursing home for his mother he did some checking and The Ridgecrest was very highly recommended. There was said to be a long waiting list to get into the Ridgecrest but apparently my Uncle Tony used his political influence and got my grandmother into the home as soon as it was practicable. I remember my mother dealing with a "Mrs. Rake" who would have to have been Marshall Rake's wife Catherine Buether Rake (1914-1987). </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg02ey9oxXNeBrW4b76YJBEiLwpSBCMvKDntnqL3cEFuiK66i5bNP6KwN8a9Wx3spqT1j7NRVk0-gKjMY-CvNEw992mDb2ZxrBD6KPc-vTBazyAY_CHv58IegfLhszVSo--McvvnkdV9O8hH8tXicfybBBkrT_V1Vg80r31a1uu2Ixw-LizyOFAk8hG3cZl/s323/Catherine%20Rake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="323" data-original-width="213" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg02ey9oxXNeBrW4b76YJBEiLwpSBCMvKDntnqL3cEFuiK66i5bNP6KwN8a9Wx3spqT1j7NRVk0-gKjMY-CvNEw992mDb2ZxrBD6KPc-vTBazyAY_CHv58IegfLhszVSo--McvvnkdV9O8hH8tXicfybBBkrT_V1Vg80r31a1uu2Ixw-LizyOFAk8hG3cZl/w264-h400/Catherine%20Rake.JPG" width="264" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Catherine Rake<br />Photo courtesy of John Rake</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Martha Twichell was dead by this time, so apparently Mrs. Rake stepped in to manage the Ridgecrest on a daily basis. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The Ridgecrest was at 1703 Ridge Avenue in Evanston. It was a mansion </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">like so many in Evanston from that era. The story was that Mrs. Rake had grown up in the big house at 1703 and that when the house became too expensive to keep as a single family home, she turned it into a nursing home and moved into the coach house in the back. Martha and Ross Twichell did live in the Asbury Nursing home for a time, but I could not find any evidence that Catherine Buether Rake ever lived in the big house at 1703 Ridge either before her marriage to Marshall Rake or after.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Martha Twichell and her successor tried to run the Ridgecrest as much like a family home as possible. Residents were encouraged to bring their own furniture or other items to decorate their rooms at the Ridgecrest. Other than a hospital bed in each room, it looked just like any other large residence. There was a large wrap-around porch outside on the first floor in front where my grandmother loved to sit by the hour and "watch the Fords go by" as she used to say. There was an office of the business as well as kitchens on the first floor, then a big winding staircase up to the second floor which was all bedrooms with connecting baths, and finally the third floor where many of the nursing staff lived. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My grandmother didn't know or didn't realize that she was living in a convalescent home (as they used to call them back then.) She thought she was in a hotel and told my mother that it was the nicest hotel she had ever stayed at.</span></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">My grandmother died in 1966, and the Ridgecrest was sold to the YWCA in 1969. The charm of the big old home was what led to its demise: It had no elevators, nor any room to install elevators. Multi-story nursing homes without elevators were doomed to fail.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWJNEgZyDy5cVEaMBl09HNKdsu7fhJhgRrY_tpeHdmt_-TUtgE3KinYCg_S8qW3UPkHYxl1Q9nltKrLsqRHEAHDevWb4UESAlYqes_Vutatw9dmM8OOCS5aAbqdyyhrqoJNoWEllWOmDnsHZDVvTbRMKD6ARmiWGXsyToNpgIH43I3v_v3uj5T8Thwmg/s413/Ridgeview.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="394" data-original-width="413" height="629" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWJNEgZyDy5cVEaMBl09HNKdsu7fhJhgRrY_tpeHdmt_-TUtgE3KinYCg_S8qW3UPkHYxl1Q9nltKrLsqRHEAHDevWb4UESAlYqes_Vutatw9dmM8OOCS5aAbqdyyhrqoJNoWEllWOmDnsHZDVvTbRMKD6ARmiWGXsyToNpgIH43I3v_v3uj5T8Thwmg/w660-h629/Ridgeview.JPG" width="660" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Ridgecrest as seen from Church Street</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The house was used for years by the YWCA but sadly was torn down in 2020</span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">As mentioned earlier, Martha Johnson Rake Twichell's daughter Virginia died in 1933.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Martha's first husband Edward R. Rake died in 1972.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Her second husband Ross Twichell died in 1973.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Martha's son Marshall Rake died in 1974.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Martha's daughter-in-law </span><span style="font-size: medium;">Catherine Buether Rake died in 1987.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Martha's grandson Marshall Rake, Jr. died in 2000.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ross, Martha, Virginia, Marshall, Catherine and Marshall, Jr. are buried in a row in Lot 142 of Section C of Memorial Park Cemetery in Skokie, Illinois.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwX0RPg8Fqw_gCKNV8PZ8ihIdgLJZG_S-LDb_-92RA0B4r86BdTSP1mBedWqfKnrH_9qLFtFIyuWX4Wp2UUXaq0y8FkpC7_2jTF7w24deUdiPADuJkJ2zwp9CUBQG_mSBVRULN_lOCu7ekrL_fy9Y5RRzXYTfbefxR-uZgURQBCVPGmEjaf6XKOuYTPA/s1238/Twichell-Rake%20Plot%20@%20Memorial%20Park.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="971" data-original-width="1238" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwX0RPg8Fqw_gCKNV8PZ8ihIdgLJZG_S-LDb_-92RA0B4r86BdTSP1mBedWqfKnrH_9qLFtFIyuWX4Wp2UUXaq0y8FkpC7_2jTF7w24deUdiPADuJkJ2zwp9CUBQG_mSBVRULN_lOCu7ekrL_fy9Y5RRzXYTfbefxR-uZgURQBCVPGmEjaf6XKOuYTPA/w658-h516/Twichell-Rake%20Plot%20@%20Memorial%20Park.jpg" width="658" /></a><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Edward Rake is also buried at Memorial Park, although in a different section.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So now you know the story of the Asbury Home, another bit of history from Evanston's past. May Martha Twichell and everyone associated with her nursing homes rest in peace.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-14892422780477918142022-11-01T03:48:00.000-07:002022-11-01T03:48:02.225-07:00HIS LIFE ENSHRINED IN OUR HEARTS IS ITS OWN EPITAPH - Sylvan Charles Kusel<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">October 4, 2022 was a beautiful Fall day in Chicago. What do I do on beautiful fall days? Go to a cemetery, of course. What cemetery do I visit? I have many "favorite" cemeteries on my list but this time I returned to my most favorite, Chicago's beautiful and historic Rosehill Cemetery.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I had a photo request from one of my Find a Grave friends who lives out of state. I went to the office at Rosehill and found that the grave I was looking for was in the unusually named "Diamond L" section of Rosehill. Why is it called "Diamond L"? See for yourself:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ImUVHZ7rCSjMR4PRC2MsJb2ffpJ2hg0b_jn0lFwr3G60kt_XbWgUZ_LnPTLzKNRJv58nf89dLT-kt32UZtznl6vkWyLee-ome4ntc5Co5xa2QTTshro7Q0pqDGw-6mzwGkeDuG1anZ8tZVy6EqHDe3AZ92kgHyZqfISz3lXTmfTqE3vvMB6fJtJjEw/s2970/Diamond%20L%20-%20Rosehill%20-%20Section%20Diamond%20L.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2970" data-original-width="2311" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ImUVHZ7rCSjMR4PRC2MsJb2ffpJ2hg0b_jn0lFwr3G60kt_XbWgUZ_LnPTLzKNRJv58nf89dLT-kt32UZtznl6vkWyLee-ome4ntc5Co5xa2QTTshro7Q0pqDGw-6mzwGkeDuG1anZ8tZVy6EqHDe3AZ92kgHyZqfISz3lXTmfTqE3vvMB6fJtJjEw/w498-h640/Diamond%20L%20-%20Rosehill%20-%20Section%20Diamond%20L.jpg" width="498" /></a></div><span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I found and photographed the graves my friend had requested with no problem. Then I looked around at other graves in the area to see if there was anything interesting, and at Rosehill there always is. Section Diamond L is one of the so-called "Jewish Sections" of Rosehill. This is a Jewish section but you will not see any Hebrew lettering on any of the tombstones. The Diamond L Section mostly contains the graves of Jews who had assimilated into Christian society. Although they had not actually converted, they looked on their Judaism as a culture rather than a religion. There is a section for Orthodox Jews at Rosehill, but it is not Section Diamond L. </span></p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Not too far from the road I saw the Kusel Family monument:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRjs3d5sPLKixShvKIeKdr88rYvyqy2PG8vxwHg2jdvQzrMvWFKfN8mg-qLzfjuVQI3Mib6MCxrmYJQUxogS80Qxxgr0q7T6d07K3m_uuxCsSbus-chWmH6NqY4WUwzoVW1sY_8XKa9tfW-ilAxB3sTMKoavSDx81gd-fJqVBsm44BHLOgPRE-6wV6IQ/s457/Kusel%20Plot.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="279" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRjs3d5sPLKixShvKIeKdr88rYvyqy2PG8vxwHg2jdvQzrMvWFKfN8mg-qLzfjuVQI3Mib6MCxrmYJQUxogS80Qxxgr0q7T6d07K3m_uuxCsSbus-chWmH6NqY4WUwzoVW1sY_8XKa9tfW-ilAxB3sTMKoavSDx81gd-fJqVBsm44BHLOgPRE-6wV6IQ/w390-h640/Kusel%20Plot.jpg" width="390" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">At the top of the monument I saw the following:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuoyqI-WKrgG9RiDI6UBFVYl3g0Vzf2rdVqiS2UuiKWTUfpfDSqmXIJbQrbf8ulozrP9AHGLEwWcgS1o-Uk1BDJM4zuC37Vlc6OSsif742jCQbdHroaJNO1bHFc-YPeQ8f4o5D1yM0KS-O1L5w9wf4cQgcFhoZI7isC-_VsHLWZCmeNzsS9AYUfaUSPQ/s266/Kusel%20Epitaph.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="74" data-original-width="266" height="111" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuoyqI-WKrgG9RiDI6UBFVYl3g0Vzf2rdVqiS2UuiKWTUfpfDSqmXIJbQrbf8ulozrP9AHGLEwWcgS1o-Uk1BDJM4zuC37Vlc6OSsif742jCQbdHroaJNO1bHFc-YPeQ8f4o5D1yM0KS-O1L5w9wf4cQgcFhoZI7isC-_VsHLWZCmeNzsS9AYUfaUSPQ/w400-h111/Kusel%20Epitaph.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In Loving Memory of</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Our Beloved Son</span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sylvan Charles Kusel</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sylvan Kusel's tombstone is in front of the monument:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUsv5MDRJVi2tKAnFwNHFJ46ujaCQBJ8qLzmE_uLas68v6O0mDdi293WuWvViyYzX2vvCuZbq0VCJoA9v6l8ISUj9yTKZe5sckX-iHZIjYINH27j4jBlugV5WUl1H7ZWA5-m2TGXWkcR0dow-CPLK9QUdFEiYIFrCqkrCSgF36mMRhD9F4tg13OkLuw/s2420/Kusel,%20Sylvan.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1305" data-original-width="2420" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUsv5MDRJVi2tKAnFwNHFJ46ujaCQBJ8qLzmE_uLas68v6O0mDdi293WuWvViyYzX2vvCuZbq0VCJoA9v6l8ISUj9yTKZe5sckX-iHZIjYINH27j4jBlugV5WUl1H7ZWA5-m2TGXWkcR0dow-CPLK9QUdFEiYIFrCqkrCSgF36mMRhD9F4tg13OkLuw/w400-h216/Kusel,%20Sylvan.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He died in 1916. Too early to be a World War I casualty, also too early to have been a victim of the Spanish Influenza. So what caused the death of Sylvan Kusel just short of his 20th birthday? The Chicago Tribune from October 24 had the answer. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVBUAX8pNOMph3g0OFMme16bKyZ8xJQLIVX1IIFyI5RcuS6dSKOasAalTPeQqCxDlN6stjjf_0ghv26d6fWJGizJP3BynNqyrqq9UROnZKZFe8Y3ZFHi9ufOpvbiq2v4yeMIV21la_Kqve4drtzeUgcaSik2bsZB7AHPMGOhIVFdGEuPGX07w9TEVwlw/s1383/Kusel%20Headline.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="289" data-original-width="1383" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVBUAX8pNOMph3g0OFMme16bKyZ8xJQLIVX1IIFyI5RcuS6dSKOasAalTPeQqCxDlN6stjjf_0ghv26d6fWJGizJP3BynNqyrqq9UROnZKZFe8Y3ZFHi9ufOpvbiq2v4yeMIV21la_Kqve4drtzeUgcaSik2bsZB7AHPMGOhIVFdGEuPGX07w9TEVwlw/w640-h134/Kusel%20Headline.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEq5zNun-YLX4NJDWDPN96RQ54901H6LNfgjZOZhZPM3r_2q9rUls7Cyy0ZRCWoDXwvO35yMVQCVvkEqlPYFgWlRaY983622b_MGmxkvNmHqXIvNjqdEOK9Gl-6bfrrMOcTunAtgJKey940IaUKDvmzONwhtno9eYD-S5dcBSzZoAOlvv0WJR6IRtS7Q/s498/Kusel%20Victims.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="174" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEq5zNun-YLX4NJDWDPN96RQ54901H6LNfgjZOZhZPM3r_2q9rUls7Cyy0ZRCWoDXwvO35yMVQCVvkEqlPYFgWlRaY983622b_MGmxkvNmHqXIvNjqdEOK9Gl-6bfrrMOcTunAtgJKey940IaUKDvmzONwhtno9eYD-S5dcBSzZoAOlvv0WJR6IRtS7Q/w224-h640/Kusel%20Victims.JPG" width="224" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Before we look further into the accident that killed Sylvan Kusel and three of his friends, let's see what we can "dig up" about Sylvan and his family.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sylvan Charles Kusel was born November 20, 1896 in St. Louis, Missouri, the only child of Isidor J. Kusel (1865-1934) and Cora Canmann (1872-1963). </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sylvan's father Isidor Julius Kusel was born in Chicago in 1865. During his career he was involved in a myriad of different businesses. He started his career as a traveling salesman for a cotton goods house. In 1890 he formed the Missouri Telephone Manufacturers Company. In 1897 he started the Eureka Electric Company in Genoa, Illinois. In 1906 he founded the American Car Equipment Company and was president of that company until 1909 when he organized the General Rail Equipment Company. He was at one time associated with the S. K. Smith Leather Goods Company and was also the founder of the Woodstock and Sycamore Traction Company.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sylvan's mother, Cora Canmann Kusel was born in 1872 in Missouri. She was one of eleven children. Her father Mark Canmann was one of the pioneer merchants of St. Louis. Isidor Kusel and Cora Canmann were married on March 17, 1896 in St. Louis. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sylvan Kusel makes his first appearance in the US Census of 1900. The Kusel family was living at 387 Oak Street in St. Louis. That address no longer exists in St. Louis today. Cora's parents lived next door at 389 Oak Street. The Kusel family consisted of Isidore (35 years old), Cora (25), son Sylvan (3) and servant Anna Nelson (19), an Immigrant from Sweden. Isidore listed his occupation as "President". Isidor said his father was from Belgium, and his mother from Pennsylvania. Cora said her father was from Germany, and his mother from Austria. Isidor and Cora told the census taker they had been married for four years, had one child, and that child was alive in 1900.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">By the time of the 1910 US Census the Kusel family had relocated to Chicago. They were living at 3636 South Michigan Avenue. The Perspective Math and Science Academy occupies that spot today. The family consisted of I.J. Kusel (45 years old), Cora (35), Sylvan (13) and "Servant/Maid" Ella Stabbs (26). Isidore lists his occupation as "Broker of Railway Equipment." Cora told the census taker that they rented their home, were married fourteen years, and that they had one child who was still living in 1910.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After graduating from high school Sylvan Kusel enrolled at the University of Chicago, Class of 1917. While at the U of C he was part of a theatrical group known as The Blackfriars. After receiving his undergraduate degree Sylvan stayed at the University of Chicago, enrolling in the Law School. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">While attending the University of Chicago, Sylvan Kusel rented an apartment at 5470 S. Greenwood Avenue in Chicago, within walking distance of the University:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7V8j6G8867KwF7qgyza0IsS1UDFUHzQ7VXVFSebY660xY04Mz5kps9Qt0nBcrFCGIZdYHUmD9dDp1e2uB1JYx0jnI95GTs7OoD0lkLAA8htDvFU0HOA1okDFnMSfEj_qSdo9LlES6cRMv4OrA_WNm2PNPiHkCOu7SB2m3hFX986nmagfs89HLsX5UIQ/s900/5470%20s%20greenwood.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="605" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7V8j6G8867KwF7qgyza0IsS1UDFUHzQ7VXVFSebY660xY04Mz5kps9Qt0nBcrFCGIZdYHUmD9dDp1e2uB1JYx0jnI95GTs7OoD0lkLAA8htDvFU0HOA1okDFnMSfEj_qSdo9LlES6cRMv4OrA_WNm2PNPiHkCOu7SB2m3hFX986nmagfs89HLsX5UIQ/w430-h640/5470%20s%20greenwood.jpg" width="430" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">5470 S. Greenwood Avenue, Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">While attending law school, Sylvan also volunteered at a Maxwell Street settlement house, teaching English to poor Jewish immigrants. Like many assimilated Jews of the era, in addition to English, Sylvan was also fluent in Yiddish and German. The press of the time referred to people like Sylvan who were wealthy and educated but volunteered their time to help the less fortunate, as "Philanthropy Workers."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">That brings us to the night of October 23, 1916. It was a Monday, and the temperature in Chicago was in the upper 40s with a driving rain. Sylvan had gone to the settlement for his evening tutoring the immigrants and met up with friends. They were advertising executive Hugo J. Warner (31 years old), his wife Henrietta Warner (30), and cousins Lillian Klausner (30) and Jennie Klausner (22). </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">At the end of the evening Hugo Warner offered to drive everyone home. Newspaper accounts do not list the make or model of his car but referred to it as a limousine. The occupants were Hugo and his wife Henrietta, Lillian and Jennie Klausner, Sylvan Kusel and another settlement volunteer Sarah Bernstein. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After leaving the Maxwell Street settlement, they drove east on their way home, talking about their successful evening at the settlement. Newspapers said the car was proceeding at "a moderate pace due to the thickness of the weather." Mr. and Mrs. Warner were in the front seat as was Sylvan, The other three were seated in the back seat. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Twelfth Street bridge was a drawbridge, as many bridges in Chicago are, to this day. It was said that the west approach to the Twelfth Street bridge had always been considered a dangerous one, owing to the skeleton iron work which made it difficult to see if the drawbridge was open. It had previously been the scene of a number of accidents, but there was no barrier to halt traffic when the bridge was up. There was a bridge tender stationed at the bridge at night, as well as a signal bell and light that engaged when the bridge was up. Unfortunately neither the bell nor the signal light was working that night, and the car plunged into the river before the bridge tender could do anything to stop it. Here are two photos of the Twelfth Street bridge from that era:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZxhVh1DMXqCsMyAA1rvkwVbYiFML9oTJ9ZvFA2C3rtJKGA15TtBkNwyVb8znJ20Xa5I6A6ILYlVgcCsa-OKHKTTWXw7jX7ATyDjvwoqvaHaOktevZOxab--P1fwNJqpK2RpRx-2y9NNxrqHEUT6NGKLg_wsQLLbqbPUfHdfU-Wm2A2rXhWzzGvlaug/s566/12th%20street%20bridge.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="566" data-original-width="340" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZxhVh1DMXqCsMyAA1rvkwVbYiFML9oTJ9ZvFA2C3rtJKGA15TtBkNwyVb8znJ20Xa5I6A6ILYlVgcCsa-OKHKTTWXw7jX7ATyDjvwoqvaHaOktevZOxab--P1fwNJqpK2RpRx-2y9NNxrqHEUT6NGKLg_wsQLLbqbPUfHdfU-Wm2A2rXhWzzGvlaug/w384-h640/12th%20street%20bridge.JPG" width="384" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Mr. Warner drove his car right up to the brink before he realized that the drawbridge was up. He immediately hit the brakes, but the momentum of the heavy car caused it to skid. It bumped the edge of the guardrail, then turned a half somersault and dropped into the river. So swift was the whole thing that the occupants of the car scarcely realized what had happened, and persons on the shore said there was only one scream, and it was cut short and the car went under the water. </div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Witnesses hastened to notify the police, and they and the bridge tender rushed to the river's edge to help in any way they could. Sarah Bernstein was the first to appear on the surface, and Henrietta Warner followed in a moment. </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span>The tugboat <i>Walter Cahill</i> was in the area at the time of the accident and steamed over immediately to offer assistance. </span><span>Both women bravely fought the river's currents until men from the tug pulled them to safety. They were rushed by police ambulance to Cook County Hospital.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A Chicago Police Boat was summoned and worked for hours using grapples to try to raise the car containing the four bodies without success. Some of the crew on the police boat declared they saw a man in midstream when they first came on the scene. The police called out that they would rescue him, but exhausted, he slipped beneath the water without a sound.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mrs. Warner, was in the front seat with her husband and Sylvan Kusel, said that after the car plunged into the water she fell forward among the gear at the bottom of the machine. Her clothes were caught in the pedal apparatus and she tried but failed to wrench herself free. "Then," she said, "someone, I don't know whether my husband or Mr. Kusel, began to pull my clothes free. An instant later, the hands working under the water thrust me clear of the car and I came to the surface." </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After midnight, while the police boat was methodically searching the water with grapples, an automobile sped up on the bridge and stopped. A man, with a woman faltering on his arm, stepped out, and together went over to the bridge rail.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"My son! My son!" moaned the woman, stretching her arms toward the river. "Our only boy," said the man brokenly, drawing his wife more closely to him. Then when they woman's grief seemed imminent to overpower her, he guided her gently back to the automobile, and they drove away.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The couple were Mr. & Mrs. Isidor J. Kusel, parents of Sylvan Kusel, the University of Chicago student who died in the plunge. Mr. Kusel is the manager of the Strongheart Novelty Company. He declared his son would have graduated from the law department of the university next June. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The body of Hugo Warner was recovered from the Chicago River by the Chicago Police Department the next day, October 24. After ascertaining that the three remaining bodies were still trapped in the car, the city sent diver Harry Halvorsen down to recover them. Halvorsen was known for his work in recovering bodies from the <i>Eastland</i> tragedy in July of 1915. Halvorsen was successful in recovering the bodies of Sylvan Kusel and the two Klausners.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The funeral for Sylvan Kusel was held Thursday October 26. Here is the Death Notice from the Chicago Tribune of that date:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipoiC9Y0W4cUO1uu_nrATnEQfyrvOY1UxtBcE7wLBas9niQeD4I3e7rgHonOwc4_g2xnmUOjp8Uu3hWz-LMpuUugbazWfOpfy7VZxkE0W5crO5ssYk3Z947G1UtiW9gvTYSTPnydukx04UlSJDMJ64ByinVm8XP2hqw-irbClNTwKzWtOUWXOEt0AoWg/s434/Death%20Notice%20Tribune%2026%20Oct%201916.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="121" data-original-width="434" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipoiC9Y0W4cUO1uu_nrATnEQfyrvOY1UxtBcE7wLBas9niQeD4I3e7rgHonOwc4_g2xnmUOjp8Uu3hWz-LMpuUugbazWfOpfy7VZxkE0W5crO5ssYk3Z947G1UtiW9gvTYSTPnydukx04UlSJDMJ64ByinVm8XP2hqw-irbClNTwKzWtOUWXOEt0AoWg/w675-h188/Death%20Notice%20Tribune%2026%20Oct%201916.JPG" width="675" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sylvan was buried in Chicago's Rosehill Cemetery, in Section Diamond L, Lot 57:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjolhreNdx6oVnx_pEhz6PLdYF90V5jKLbduZdQs302HnrFJBt3701mjh-q9pPHktg6Hl91yCQ0BO7KHi59ROuuqCIBXmOInYpIW8UAlzXHzc3ty3wbrdp8azfzvC4vSmZVkQ6dgiAmTFKh5LxHCKdK2QttZiba4PA_5caWhZT0GIXFiJwzM_1HNJkzfg/s2420/Kusel,%20Sulvan.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1305" data-original-width="2420" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjolhreNdx6oVnx_pEhz6PLdYF90V5jKLbduZdQs302HnrFJBt3701mjh-q9pPHktg6Hl91yCQ0BO7KHi59ROuuqCIBXmOInYpIW8UAlzXHzc3ty3wbrdp8azfzvC4vSmZVkQ6dgiAmTFKh5LxHCKdK2QttZiba4PA_5caWhZT0GIXFiJwzM_1HNJkzfg/w640-h346/Kusel,%20Sulvan.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /> </span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">His parents had a beautiful monument erected over their family plot:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="279" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQK5WjKoUaozDOo8Eqk-6MFPBF5pFCxIvnDvkhGNkc-r-rwd-TdSCUYS7_w2mMwXADP__57oCaos0OUdH-51wG51L_VG7mlOMb4r2KKsHnPPHmMV-kZjEz4jT9M6E6oWJwAURAVLXIE4epzxQ8tjYh3ESecRcJ3zioCU5JrtkSNkiLKYSaVzAgVl8VcQ/w390-h640/Kusel%20Plot.jpg" width="390" /></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCbLVOcq_hN2bFjJpmDjiqLFIJE25VGUmDJdHFnCeoWpkVJ_f_prUjgqvvnVIyX7RCYCLQdY7vniSCRAGMNBlMx9yawCvYDI4H0BUgokxQ-7VqsjVzJVFyi9e0TrD6x7zEQHr-JEBfwB1aXMOyqyZDPFLayF6IHUyfERdCNC6SWSy-lv8AUZY6fXyc5A/s820/Kusel,%20Sylvan%20Portrait.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="619" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCbLVOcq_hN2bFjJpmDjiqLFIJE25VGUmDJdHFnCeoWpkVJ_f_prUjgqvvnVIyX7RCYCLQdY7vniSCRAGMNBlMx9yawCvYDI4H0BUgokxQ-7VqsjVzJVFyi9e0TrD6x7zEQHr-JEBfwB1aXMOyqyZDPFLayF6IHUyfERdCNC6SWSy-lv8AUZY6fXyc5A/w303-h400/Kusel,%20Sylvan%20Portrait.jpg" width="303" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Sylvan Charles Kusel - Lost as his life was just beginning - May he rest in peace.</span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><u><br /></u></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><u>The Rest of the Story:</u></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After the accident there was an outcry that something be done about the hazardous draw bridges in Chicago. Here is an article on the aftermath of the accident from the Chicago Tribune of November 15, 1916:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDumGqTl3aD9Vrle3KSeMULm0rhcXtRaFO_O6C2LzrkbglkplP2g5x5A0J01Gkqz_WtphIycPXPAfikSr21a0P0B2luVxG6-e_A8C0j-ASHQMNxlnJEWPZ-ByFSDlGh44IYdSMGSQDe9rCCxHjS9yloiGXju7foBSiDXz3wwrdgIf9QThPsrHg6aoK5w/s998/15%20Nov%201916.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="998" data-original-width="661" height="785" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDumGqTl3aD9Vrle3KSeMULm0rhcXtRaFO_O6C2LzrkbglkplP2g5x5A0J01Gkqz_WtphIycPXPAfikSr21a0P0B2luVxG6-e_A8C0j-ASHQMNxlnJEWPZ-ByFSDlGh44IYdSMGSQDe9rCCxHjS9yloiGXju7foBSiDXz3wwrdgIf9QThPsrHg6aoK5w/w520-h785/15%20Nov%201916.JPG" width="520" /></a></div><span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 12th Street (now Roosevelt Road) bridge over the Chicago River was finally replaced in 1928, and rehabilitated in 1994. It is still a drawbridge.</span></p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As mentioned above, Sylvan Kusel was buried in Rosehill Cemetery in Chicago. His friend Hugo Warner is also at Rosehill - in Section T:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBnBS_Lkjxg38LXcOp0KUwBPsXEsn40Zston4WhlsGWy7KVx76dbkPh_nZonkjfTgtBmBldVwg5g2YZLCWLW2LXamCRUmcGj7oIaey7TQ6UWDVJG17IlG3lucL5ELYoxGFgjQY3KoqStgucDA6CXU_NhqnIiV0gocdU2zWqbg4mthr5CYT02a7eQ2TRA/s923/Warner.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="923" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBnBS_Lkjxg38LXcOp0KUwBPsXEsn40Zston4WhlsGWy7KVx76dbkPh_nZonkjfTgtBmBldVwg5g2YZLCWLW2LXamCRUmcGj7oIaey7TQ6UWDVJG17IlG3lucL5ELYoxGFgjQY3KoqStgucDA6CXU_NhqnIiV0gocdU2zWqbg4mthr5CYT02a7eQ2TRA/w640-h342/Warner.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />The Klausners are both buried at Jewish Waldheim Cemetery in Forest Park, Illinois at Gate #31 - Free Sons of Israel:</span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jennie Klausner:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyUOWac0unRhknYnNJplKhpCzV4JXm53GUejRywwCBfQ7YbZHuZttooEXr1yFt6WGALl2Iajtus4p4SehjfIsOqIh7V2bk_mMgDm-AYF3S41Fm651bpcJxbZSIMfnRXb-Xvd9q1nvHVbt64ZbaQGtNySU4NccZyF_HMJkbolw16GQjism3jqhnquGv1w/s1866/Klausenr-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1661" data-original-width="1866" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyUOWac0unRhknYnNJplKhpCzV4JXm53GUejRywwCBfQ7YbZHuZttooEXr1yFt6WGALl2Iajtus4p4SehjfIsOqIh7V2bk_mMgDm-AYF3S41Fm651bpcJxbZSIMfnRXb-Xvd9q1nvHVbt64ZbaQGtNySU4NccZyF_HMJkbolw16GQjism3jqhnquGv1w/w400-h356/Klausenr-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1677" data-original-width="1765" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd8Fozala12LYHf0HP0FOxglZ3os1qFR34KXeQopHTU7YBd8sIcjAvRNMNPvEyF782yzpoeR83cQ7ul0ebYCkl6wVvhkaVJyEVoxAAoGHcIc_RfeEbA4dCjODu0RgjqoeGdKYun10LUQkYd9vEWnH86ym_fVVzbCLaG8uZPZ78yIwRTkbfovXn65445A/w400-h380/Klausner,%20Jernnie.jpg" width="400" /></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lillian Klausner:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLxLUL2tJuDOooQtYuTLqqWq8DE2SEngSAdmN0BdTVhORczkzdYDU67qkmOdkNirguAC0GM-ruE2V5cyfk2mkYP12Q4OQad7vM14oUlgaJEvP99LCiL0up7Rk09uMQKpVaoZ3Db_joUIRRxw3IQm_1iRGOA7q9pAQZaf8ISUhYFp52gOhrSFURJhjtgg/s2506/Klausner%20Monument.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2506" data-original-width="2334" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLxLUL2tJuDOooQtYuTLqqWq8DE2SEngSAdmN0BdTVhORczkzdYDU67qkmOdkNirguAC0GM-ruE2V5cyfk2mkYP12Q4OQad7vM14oUlgaJEvP99LCiL0up7Rk09uMQKpVaoZ3Db_joUIRRxw3IQm_1iRGOA7q9pAQZaf8ISUhYFp52gOhrSFURJhjtgg/w373-h400/Klausner%20Monument.jpg" width="373" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWLBfuHDs2xxyuCOJw8ieZIGaDZq5mm1-jeS9Ew0noStIH2nPJ38uLWteKHW4upWRTo3ZhAUMaotLIa-v5OSC1QNkGbny-dD-Ud5itAYnpy1MQ2ddE_57TmnfuEzt2xtjeOGeKb5ULAoLrU2GlHRv6vKgwW8CzTGF6It5yB4-YBMe1TA95_ltiKzLhYw/s2129/Klausner,%20Lillie.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1788" data-original-width="2129" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWLBfuHDs2xxyuCOJw8ieZIGaDZq5mm1-jeS9Ew0noStIH2nPJ38uLWteKHW4upWRTo3ZhAUMaotLIa-v5OSC1QNkGbny-dD-Ud5itAYnpy1MQ2ddE_57TmnfuEzt2xtjeOGeKb5ULAoLrU2GlHRv6vKgwW8CzTGF6It5yB4-YBMe1TA95_ltiKzLhYw/w400-h336/Klausner,%20Lillie.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After a series of financial reversals, Sylvan's father Isidore J. Kusel took his own life on April 8, 1934:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzTNUubY1hUjTouj4uqJaKWLRaWjcPXMwuMoFOF4yTUYOBCPfURTCGGwUhYUW_PZbtAqVoJHlmeaJj-MtIwaGLqyXAvtG8YRofYsGZgyhTCW-ojzaf433R8vsGB5-HIbRB8GCws5iQ8Kh34BrDzOAfv1Vw-3X9GKmX0SurkrNsRdEMkpguPi0-NZDpVg/s800/Kusel%20Suicide.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="204" height="1503" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzTNUubY1hUjTouj4uqJaKWLRaWjcPXMwuMoFOF4yTUYOBCPfURTCGGwUhYUW_PZbtAqVoJHlmeaJj-MtIwaGLqyXAvtG8YRofYsGZgyhTCW-ojzaf433R8vsGB5-HIbRB8GCws5iQ8Kh34BrDzOAfv1Vw-3X9GKmX0SurkrNsRdEMkpguPi0-NZDpVg/w385-h1503/Kusel%20Suicide.JPG" width="385" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><p></p></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-23346842135332173952022-10-01T06:24:00.001-07:002022-10-01T06:24:34.791-07:00SOLDIER TWINS DIE IN TRAIN WRECK - William Jackson Gabriel and Joseph Glen Gabriel<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I was recently at Acacia Park Cemetery in Chicago filling a Find a Grave photo request (what else is new?). The person had requested a photo of the grave of William G. Gabriel, who is buried in the Willow Section. I found it without any problem:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1309" data-original-width="2194" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZhh7ySDK7ZHcLgi-roTAYVPtaQ8Utg-lpmpyyUksOVqX1rx0s1-vL0imHL9PHjxTc4y1PrjFQYt4mNN-_9gWxtKwnNroOnU-D-2C5Bcoe6baK8f_915muck9byizMfdRcND8CJxjAcYY_Q0DfTqzinkEyEXWIxFd2SLuohk6oR2aKJsrEq5PbMkCCjg/w640-h382/Gabriel,%20William%20G..JPG" width="640" /></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Then I saw the tombstones for two of his sons:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKSW2fuKAykRuBl4JSuceg40i8XMbdKjaZ1DfYgG2bth43UPKnd9I8XsyBiyeWAWa4l8EzsSJjT1awQNFQ7OMqNaHO2NMxebs3wzPdBsxP581v_K5VL6VrJNyVgteenMsqv0o90qglQh3-ESZwsa0cAjzg-JJ7yvTOxqniDlAFcVIOwe5R25jpzJDbPA/s2043/Gabriel,%20Private%20Joseph%20G..JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1247" data-original-width="2043" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKSW2fuKAykRuBl4JSuceg40i8XMbdKjaZ1DfYgG2bth43UPKnd9I8XsyBiyeWAWa4l8EzsSJjT1awQNFQ7OMqNaHO2NMxebs3wzPdBsxP581v_K5VL6VrJNyVgteenMsqv0o90qglQh3-ESZwsa0cAjzg-JJ7yvTOxqniDlAFcVIOwe5R25jpzJDbPA/w640-h390/Gabriel,%20Private%20Joseph%20G..JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizWNICMpOVmUwkSijhcZVKqWwMvoAwTx9LlRY2u2u30Frfss-bsedjr4U9TMm4uIz8ef7E-UtmCQTIMFhqKhezOt11gm-wDA3skZO-KB9_5jV-tF6wkV_LPp7Uu0df9M4J_c7pif9FjcH7f5M7chwK_y9_FQb5pXdehCA-IQJD_G3uu_wdyZ_8D0fsmw/s1992/Gabriel,%20Private%20William%20J..JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1180" data-original-width="1992" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizWNICMpOVmUwkSijhcZVKqWwMvoAwTx9LlRY2u2u30Frfss-bsedjr4U9TMm4uIz8ef7E-UtmCQTIMFhqKhezOt11gm-wDA3skZO-KB9_5jV-tF6wkV_LPp7Uu0df9M4J_c7pif9FjcH7f5M7chwK_y9_FQb5pXdehCA-IQJD_G3uu_wdyZ_8D0fsmw/w640-h380/Gabriel,%20Private%20William%20J..JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I noticed that they were twins - both born on the same day - December 18, 1925. But then I noticed they had died just days apart - William on December 31, 1944 and Joseph on January 3, 1945. I figured it was just a sad coincidence that they had both been killed in combat around the same time. In that I was incorrect. However, I felt there must be an interesting story here and in that I was right. Before we look at the tragedy that took the lives of Joseph and William let's take a look at their family and their lives before the war.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Joseph Glen Gabriel and William Jackson "Jack" Gabriel were born in Chicago on December 18, 1925. Their parents were William Glenn Gabriel (1905-1990) and Georgianna Moore Gabriel (1901-1993). William and Georgianna were married in Missouri in 1925. In addition to the twins, they had four other children: Dale G. (b. 1931), Harry Donald (1934-2007), Annalee Joy (1936-2011), and Coralee June (b. 1941). William Glen Gabriel was a mechanic by trade.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The first time we encounter the twins is in the 1930 US Census. </span><span style="font-size: medium;">The family was living at 2513 Lowell Avenue in Chicago:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZzeCd2gbdTbm-GC4X53erSaXbPtppcReruHENYNJBR0YYGi9TAEKE7BzAXLhi1IfqOICIR9HGUH2b9kaJpZvphhL1i5khS5OOV4ai16fcMXJmwXSzQ_SRXzQNhk6tZCvasX9kBb1jjHw3Sfw1XAr3t3nBpr1atnoZeB00uE8YDdfNyGfmXzaHnWADgA/s547/2513%20N.%20Lowell,%20Chicago.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="536" data-original-width="547" height="650" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZzeCd2gbdTbm-GC4X53erSaXbPtppcReruHENYNJBR0YYGi9TAEKE7BzAXLhi1IfqOICIR9HGUH2b9kaJpZvphhL1i5khS5OOV4ai16fcMXJmwXSzQ_SRXzQNhk6tZCvasX9kBb1jjHw3Sfw1XAr3t3nBpr1atnoZeB00uE8YDdfNyGfmXzaHnWADgA/w662-h650/2513%20N.%20Lowell,%20Chicago.JPG" width="662" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2513 N. Lowell Avenue, Chicago, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The family consisted of William G. (25 years old), Georgia (28), and the twins (4). They were renting, and their apartment cost $30.00 per month. Neither William nor Georgia were employed (it was during the Great Depression). </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">By the time of the 1940 US Census the family had changes significantly. They were now living at 1122 W. Drummond Place in Chicago:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjxht4YXRni1NKAK8pW2PZZHDMiLbFMKNBfMXivzMk0_Zp99dwKVXod_PffwkHcDIpXDyt_OSiXxFZYo3RCpzFplGyw-420taGTrBmM9zDTTwJE9cInbFAemuIAIKuE2sS3f-F3iqdWq9d8lvmhEDtoThu9QILj97-n9Fv6tbwTpEjKxOi-nGvC9vhzw/s547/1122%20w%20drummond%20chicago.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="418" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjxht4YXRni1NKAK8pW2PZZHDMiLbFMKNBfMXivzMk0_Zp99dwKVXod_PffwkHcDIpXDyt_OSiXxFZYo3RCpzFplGyw-420taGTrBmM9zDTTwJE9cInbFAemuIAIKuE2sS3f-F3iqdWq9d8lvmhEDtoThu9QILj97-n9Fv6tbwTpEjKxOi-nGvC9vhzw/w490-h640/1122%20w%20drummond%20chicago.JPG" width="490" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1122 W. Drummond, Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /> </span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The family now consists of William (35 years-old), Georgia (38), twins Jack and Joseph (14), Dale (8), Donald (5), and Annalee (3). They are renting their apartment for $22.00 per month. William is working as a "Mechanic in a Garage."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jack and Joseph Gabriel registered for the draft on December 20, 1943, right after they turned eighteen. They both indicated that they were living at home with their parents. Home was now 1114 W. Wrightwood Avenue in Chicago:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitHDrwbZ3cp0K5Y8R9BuWdxRHS-eoyGWPsP2CN-vj7aVe0dNVKOg8pbXgflKKg41XStMR6pdqYnP4fMhvHwGWL_LR9NdcTfAdKU58hfzpU0zKJ4m4DB2M2GZVpzSHBg8qNLcNI93e1QJPG5DzpfvqeSWXg_FDxX1mHrDOtekg0zPmNoKsCf4bhslDmQA/s424/1114%20W.%20Wrightwood.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="424" data-original-width="268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitHDrwbZ3cp0K5Y8R9BuWdxRHS-eoyGWPsP2CN-vj7aVe0dNVKOg8pbXgflKKg41XStMR6pdqYnP4fMhvHwGWL_LR9NdcTfAdKU58hfzpU0zKJ4m4DB2M2GZVpzSHBg8qNLcNI93e1QJPG5DzpfvqeSWXg_FDxX1mHrDOtekg0zPmNoKsCf4bhslDmQA/w404-h640/1114%20W.%20Wrightwood.JPG" width="404" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1114 W. Wrightwood Avenue, Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />They were both working for their father, who now owned a Service Station: Gabriel Service Station, 7200 W. Addison in Chicago. Surprisingly it is still a Service Station but they no longer sell gasoline:</span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibSWfIICIMI7nexsBBLGKtKiIRv6oEgwzp_xa_Gt9vp8QUAqOQS4rzh5cRMJux2tXD09omIr623_iaupsportcuYmYDyzX3dGp8oCCrbWuHrppDndSVBjufruZD2yo4R3Qm3aQb_q4fTx17G_WTKbA_O-LY1xFUFtE-4-AOGN8pe-_vw7Ppg29_RiwDg/s714/7200%20w%20addison%20chicago.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="714" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibSWfIICIMI7nexsBBLGKtKiIRv6oEgwzp_xa_Gt9vp8QUAqOQS4rzh5cRMJux2tXD09omIr623_iaupsportcuYmYDyzX3dGp8oCCrbWuHrppDndSVBjufruZD2yo4R3Qm3aQb_q4fTx17G_WTKbA_O-LY1xFUFtE-4-AOGN8pe-_vw7Ppg29_RiwDg/w660-h282/7200%20w%20addison%20chicago.JPG" width="660" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">7200 W. Addison, Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Joseph was 5' 9" tall, weighed 178 lbs., had brown eyes and black hair with a ruddy complexion. In addition, he wore glasses.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jack was 6' tall, weighed 185 lbs., and (surprise) also had brown eyes, black hair, a ruddy complexion and also wore glasses. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After they both graduated from Lane Technical High School in June of 1944 the entered the US Army.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So, how, where and when did the Gabriel twins die? Surprisingly since it was wartime, they did not die in combat. They tragically died in Utah's worst train wreck - an accident that killed a total of fifty people - including twenty-nine military personnel and nine railroad workers.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here's the front page of the Salt Lake Tribune from January 1, 1945:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy0o78qJprTQYDSZKhRXgYBm_zprGfoGgDyEvx_3RgnGQSxPg3lziUSTBIx25-VFt4oFZrF4i07Oi3ijjIMmLNMhuM4mNSe5e0CE-dFS6aUFvv5mCBR-hdCP3s_wktBbUJAVXw-ShloQCWQ4rTwkPqeKgPsf0OvymcvMW5r5h9JF_fwVkQfFu9Mwsq7w/s841/Salt%20Lake%20Tribune%2001%20Jan%201945.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="647" data-original-width="841" height="523" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy0o78qJprTQYDSZKhRXgYBm_zprGfoGgDyEvx_3RgnGQSxPg3lziUSTBIx25-VFt4oFZrF4i07Oi3ijjIMmLNMhuM4mNSe5e0CE-dFS6aUFvv5mCBR-hdCP3s_wktBbUJAVXw-ShloQCWQ4rTwkPqeKgPsf0OvymcvMW5r5h9JF_fwVkQfFu9Mwsq7w/w680-h523/Salt%20Lake%20Tribune%2001%20Jan%201945.JPG" width="680" /></a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">From Wikipedia:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">The wreck involved Southern Pacific's Pacific Limited as it crossed the Great Salt Lake on the Lucin Cutoff. It had departed from Chicago at 10 a.m. the prior Friday (Dec 29), bound for San Francisco and normally traveled in one long section, but on this occasion it was split into two, with the passenger train (1st Train) running ahead of the mail express (2nd Train).</span></i></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Early that morning an unusually long and heavy freight train developed problems whilst traveling west from Ogden. This required the 1st train of the Pacific Limited comprising 18 cars to stop and then proceed with caution. The 2nd train comprising 20 cars apparently unaware of the problems ahead, continued at full speed.</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">(The 1st train) departed Ogden at 4:38 a.m. (38 minutes after its scheduled departure) and had slowed to 8 mph at the time of the collision, preparing to stop in response to flagman's signals. (The 2nd train) departed Ogden at 4:50 a.m. (50 minutes late) and passed two stop signals before the collision. At Bagley, a siding 17 miles west of Ogden, at 5:14 a.m. in thick fog, the 2nd train, moving at 50 mph crashed into the Pullman car at the back of the 1st train. </span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">The Ogden Standard-Examiner reported "The force of the impact sent another sleeping car smashing through the dining car and farther ahead slammed one coach into the wooden coach ahead of it. Cars of the mail express section piled up crossways of the track behind the engine, some of them sliding down the causeway embankment into water. Most of the dead were taken from the rear Pullman car and from the telescoped coach." Several cars in the 1st train telescoped: the thirteenth into the twelfth, the sixteenth into the fifteenth, and the locomotive of the 2nd train into the eighteenth. The twelfth, fifteenth, and eighteenth cars of the 1st train were demolished, and the locomotive and first eleven cars of the 2nd train were derailed.</span></i></div></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">At the site of the crash, the tracks run along a causeway across desolate mud and shallow water, so all rescue efforts had to come by rail. Two hospital cars were included in the 1st train manned by members of the Medical Corps and tended the injured until rescue trains arrived from Ogden.</span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">The official inquiry into the accident concluded 'this accident was caused by failure to properly control the speed of the following train in accordance with signal indications.' The 1st train had seen the two preceding stop signals and its engineers were preparing to halt when that train was struck by the 2nd train. After the fireman on the 2nd train missed the first stop signal due to heavy fog, he reported the missed signal to the engineer; the fireman then saw the second stop signal and relayed it to the engineer, but did not witness the engineer of the 2nd train respond by slowing the train. Most of the crew of the 2nd train were resting in the rearmost car and were not aware of any issues until the brakes were applied, approximately 12 seconds before the collision. Both the engineer of the second train and the flagman of the 1st train were killed.</span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Although the engineer of the 2nd train had applied the brakes, the position in which he was found indicated that he had been incapacitated prior to the collision. A coroner's inquest concluded the engineer had died from sudden shock or heart failure just before the crash.</span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Gabriel family back in Chicago was notified by the War Department that Pvt. William J. Gabriel had died at Bushnell Hospital, Brigham City, Utah and that his twin brother Joseph was seriously injured and at the Reno Army Air Base Hospital. Their father immediately left for Utah and Nevada. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Reno (NV) Evening Gazette reported in their January 4, 1945 edition:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZHoXzPcxZ6TCpaInqL9bR_fC8uM7zEqQW5PwXyT4HCD04XT-rsNx-qjbQHEz2dQdDR0tqFgW-DjOM3CvLNZp7z7fhd-3ko0bIvaKRPJMAqpHUi8LuPhhpY7Ox4NMkF0PY4C5mB_c3N1DG1bWzwTAGt0bKnNVZVrWB6egdqhaMW0o62SZ933bRlwNkKA/s620/Reno%20Evening%20Gazette%204%20Jan%201945.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="391" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZHoXzPcxZ6TCpaInqL9bR_fC8uM7zEqQW5PwXyT4HCD04XT-rsNx-qjbQHEz2dQdDR0tqFgW-DjOM3CvLNZp7z7fhd-3ko0bIvaKRPJMAqpHUi8LuPhhpY7Ox4NMkF0PY4C5mB_c3N1DG1bWzwTAGt0bKnNVZVrWB6egdqhaMW0o62SZ933bRlwNkKA/w404-h640/Reno%20Evening%20Gazette%204%20Jan%201945.JPG" width="404" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Here is William's Death Certificate:</span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL-ojfZz-idunKk6QlOdRXJdoZNYygarFy_uJZwaRD0ryW_G-oB8Zqqg4fUPvykXt0zTXShA9XccMJ1Vj8J88FH6-03TimY5bhcmVD5OAXuxWQHjqEZTRF8wLY__YoyypVJMfW7RYQ6paZ_IGidT5TDxBFkUGvXbhi0Cdwl5VTk56VQcnmYFuKEcvL7A/s714/William%20Death%20Certificate.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="714" height="524" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL-ojfZz-idunKk6QlOdRXJdoZNYygarFy_uJZwaRD0ryW_G-oB8Zqqg4fUPvykXt0zTXShA9XccMJ1Vj8J88FH6-03TimY5bhcmVD5OAXuxWQHjqEZTRF8wLY__YoyypVJMfW7RYQ6paZ_IGidT5TDxBFkUGvXbhi0Cdwl5VTk56VQcnmYFuKEcvL7A/w640-h524/William%20Death%20Certificate.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span><p style="font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;">and Joseph's Death Certificate:</span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAHwMvNyycZ9TcdxgwTHlGl1a5RsKBoLLlY0NQwSxPkTiMD9zyapH52AmtCLXOVLC9iYDoNTaJd0mWcNkJFU8rvLEnAbVxRUZmzdAfXrLCqH5qPZhhmMhkrLjS1x0ZwbvBRlixi5jsO9agRJchrFui8LCsgHo9NyclbjDWY5VoXedias0R3ZRVhrbCEw/s609/Joseph%20Death%20Certificate.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="609" height="596" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAHwMvNyycZ9TcdxgwTHlGl1a5RsKBoLLlY0NQwSxPkTiMD9zyapH52AmtCLXOVLC9iYDoNTaJd0mWcNkJFU8rvLEnAbVxRUZmzdAfXrLCqH5qPZhhmMhkrLjS1x0ZwbvBRlixi5jsO9agRJchrFui8LCsgHo9NyclbjDWY5VoXedias0R3ZRVhrbCEw/w640-h596/Joseph%20Death%20Certificate.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Chicago Tribune of course reported on the wreck in their January 1, 1945 edition:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="242" data-original-width="1026" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj41BIQapslU4IstvJOAroawzbWWxngwa4zD5vh0HOFOohqjfVtk6S_ieJFz-biACWMDIX48lduJXuSt7Ff2ns4yV3Ob3ZYAgT8To1U2VYWHcMCCKnGR_uz9FuUBYshe7NfoPjJFjdLlWYVO5z01FTSnzwohqfxzR4C2prrIEvtp6oIiXsVcamI5fqUhw/w682-h160/Tribune%2001.01.1945.JPG" width="682" /></div><span><p style="font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">But no mention of Chicago casualties was included. With a war going on, a train wreck was old news, so the information about the Gabriel twins was reported in the Tribune's January 2 edition buried back on page 12:</div></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv1Hh1vfN_ismcaDF4uQImIT2QpcVP_p3wsjPkGSUKMqdlU3oRR9cPG6u8k7jdum_hFCE_nvaCU6-VgkiUQmUduPylpLDEdWYQb6LMGJYu-rMp2yzYYGQJDEe6rMDi6rSzbDOo5pQm0K0EycJGUQfy5H3NTST3sE5SKk9yrcdaMUhttbbeLZ0F1INlXw/s1268/January%202.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1268" data-original-width="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv1Hh1vfN_ismcaDF4uQImIT2QpcVP_p3wsjPkGSUKMqdlU3oRR9cPG6u8k7jdum_hFCE_nvaCU6-VgkiUQmUduPylpLDEdWYQb6LMGJYu-rMp2yzYYGQJDEe6rMDi6rSzbDOo5pQm0K0EycJGUQfy5H3NTST3sE5SKk9yrcdaMUhttbbeLZ0F1INlXw/s16000/January%202.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Joseph's death was published in the edition of January 4, 1945:</span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiAzycRuepPtWCszzsUF_6o_qqMxCOhTZnZXeGSbQQJgJ6rs6y-3hP-tQi7-oh37dQRxocN1kwXBBrDRhY6hUEdrSoexHcNsnDl3gYBYvnWtlfuyIzztNQNxvqFMHomuIZxuEAD7MSM9RDIGWIO1Xu4YfT5ZDVZiUBkY5YL9LPgwmGWy18BAWxcr060g/s405/Joseph%20Gabriel%20Death.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="388" data-original-width="405" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiAzycRuepPtWCszzsUF_6o_qqMxCOhTZnZXeGSbQQJgJ6rs6y-3hP-tQi7-oh37dQRxocN1kwXBBrDRhY6hUEdrSoexHcNsnDl3gYBYvnWtlfuyIzztNQNxvqFMHomuIZxuEAD7MSM9RDIGWIO1Xu4YfT5ZDVZiUBkY5YL9LPgwmGWy18BAWxcr060g/w400-h384/Joseph%20Gabriel%20Death.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The bodies of combat casualties who died in Europe or the South Pacific could not be returned to their families until after the war. In fact, many never came back, having been buried where they fell.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In that regard the Gabriel family was fortunate. Because the twins died in the US, their bodies could be quickly shipped home for burial.</span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here are their Death Notices from the Chicago Tribune of January 6, 1945:</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="324" data-original-width="204" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJhKwVhD4ZdIdjgR9bicd15x5WiTvkltwa74UdnwYKdjdNKaFA14PgYHafd6tkXhUeP_MPmx5I1gQoRCbzVn-gGr2IuVMSBEI8tUpcb5bY42YKT1t6fFpfG11J6tXVWZTrorVvP9oRU1RzyubRykf-5E1LRABLvBnMtT60U2UJVDhRPmou5uqtr9_bWg/w402-h640/Last%20Full%20Measure.JPG" width="402" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLqrKMb7a6UWGrXeCuT6WzslcY2ZsWkQ1yYdeVQ8aXkdq6mEdkVwsOKuJxKsVRKXIb5HFNPLES5iihlozZNCdb0nztCDIJ6tRMAFGVkn9YrtfM3oZb3Ro2Rcq5P3SdzmLW2IFKs7oU8SoWARhluy0Qy9bOgId7tqehifvnWchi0ujMeU0YwfvJiCFjfw/s644/Gabriel%20Deatyh%20Notices%2001.06.1945.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="471" data-original-width="644" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLqrKMb7a6UWGrXeCuT6WzslcY2ZsWkQ1yYdeVQ8aXkdq6mEdkVwsOKuJxKsVRKXIb5HFNPLES5iihlozZNCdb0nztCDIJ6tRMAFGVkn9YrtfM3oZb3Ro2Rcq5P3SdzmLW2IFKs7oU8SoWARhluy0Qy9bOgId7tqehifvnWchi0ujMeU0YwfvJiCFjfw/w640-h468/Gabriel%20Deatyh%20Notices%2001.06.1945.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here again are their tombstones, in the Willow Section of Acacia Park Cemetery:</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCx48wNrZFeCuSA7eBgD-Q6dc_HkOxuMYp3JFbqvhC03E7ODWpTksN2HJTNIT5pbp2Qx_jSlhp_SXYwzndEayYWe-lxaHCDlrCVaopxSk47xjBvUWNsVXPUr1B_Ij98Q6xCXaJImf_O_MjMgyK4LVqqc2QgaFldtJ5NEu2-KavwnPfq6K27khISEqdUQ/s1992/Gabriel,%20Private%20William%20J..JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1180" data-original-width="1992" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCx48wNrZFeCuSA7eBgD-Q6dc_HkOxuMYp3JFbqvhC03E7ODWpTksN2HJTNIT5pbp2Qx_jSlhp_SXYwzndEayYWe-lxaHCDlrCVaopxSk47xjBvUWNsVXPUr1B_Ij98Q6xCXaJImf_O_MjMgyK4LVqqc2QgaFldtJ5NEu2-KavwnPfq6K27khISEqdUQ/w640-h380/Gabriel,%20Private%20William%20J..JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnUbdvWeb6Cl2e6l8OnSqhdJSHv_DsmmwGnnbwAZvH57URQ098_H1u1nlNk_MC3ikPp35zyysNMfz-YM81EtQs-akfT7c7qRd4oF81IWlzjdY5O5nPhPaCpzzK3PycJSDidrcmNqzN1qJrg_QRMtS-6X5nUD-xwkyTvn5thB7K1zCGwfVnBFzxUHdJFw/s2043/Gabriel,%20Private%20Joseph%20G..JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1247" data-original-width="2043" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnUbdvWeb6Cl2e6l8OnSqhdJSHv_DsmmwGnnbwAZvH57URQ098_H1u1nlNk_MC3ikPp35zyysNMfz-YM81EtQs-akfT7c7qRd4oF81IWlzjdY5O5nPhPaCpzzK3PycJSDidrcmNqzN1qJrg_QRMtS-6X5nUD-xwkyTvn5thB7K1zCGwfVnBFzxUHdJFw/w640-h390/Gabriel,%20Private%20Joseph%20G..JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">William and Joseph Gabriel - Born together - lived together - died together in the service of our country - may they rest in peace.</span></div><p></p></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-84701288955632350112022-09-01T04:14:00.001-07:002022-09-01T04:14:41.175-07:00HE CUT A NEW HIGHWAY THROUGH THE FORESTS OF LITERATURE - Renowned Poet Lionel Joseph Known Professionally as Lionel Josaphare<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am not a particular fan of poetry, except perhaps for the poetry of Edgar Allan Poe. Sometimes however an interesting story turns up on its own and that is the case with this month's story. I am going to tell you about an unusual poet who lived most of his life in San Francisco named Lionel Joseph. Before we take a look at his poetry, let's take a look at the poet.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lionel E. Joseph was born May 26, 1876 in St. Louis, Missouri to Isaac Charles Joseph (1853-1919) and Caroline (Carrie) Bernard (1862-1920). Isaac Joseph was a bookkeeper by trade. He was born in Germany and came to the US on May 11, 1870. He applied for naturalization on September 5, 1871 and became a naturalized US citizen in New York in 1876. Caroline Bernard was born in 1862 in New York. Isaac and Carrie were married in New York in 1875.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">History does not record what Isaac and Carrie Joseph were doing in Missouri when Lionel was born. Perhaps his time to be delivered took place when his parents were moving west. In any case by the time of the 1880 US Census the Joseph family was firmly ensconced in San Francisco, California. The family lived at 728 Harrison Street in San Francisco. A modern office building occupies that spot today. The family consisted of Isaac C. Joseph (32 years old), Carrie (22), and Lionel E. (4). Isaac indicated his occupation was "Bookkeeper."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There was a blessed addition to the family when Carrie gave birth to a sister for Lionel, Frances Gilbert Joseph (1886-1950) in San Francisco on May 23, 1886. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lionel Joseph graduated from UC Berkeley with a law degree in May of 1897. He wasted no time in hanging out his shingle, joining attorney Thomas A. McGowan on the 5th floor of the Parrott Building on Market Street in pre-earthquake San Francisco.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoYseJKRlWJzEDBzxTNTg6x4VZVx5RfEHM5P3yfn9evDJLPAiGXou5HHkjbiWDARgJRXXL4BFFgHPNYM1FjcXGx5lwWR3CoyYJtk1gFVdehuZKjjBCad54X-qfQtDodws8t1mG44tRTTIblHFxgeUlKqjVcSK2Mz1PoWTnxGdTUCFtj_JoxjM6DtWiSw/s1069/The%20Parrott%20Building,%20SFO.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="654" data-original-width="1069" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoYseJKRlWJzEDBzxTNTg6x4VZVx5RfEHM5P3yfn9evDJLPAiGXou5HHkjbiWDARgJRXXL4BFFgHPNYM1FjcXGx5lwWR3CoyYJtk1gFVdehuZKjjBCad54X-qfQtDodws8t1mG44tRTTIblHFxgeUlKqjVcSK2Mz1PoWTnxGdTUCFtj_JoxjM6DtWiSw/w640-h392/The%20Parrott%20Building,%20SFO.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Parrott Building</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">By 1898 Lionel Joseph, attorney-at-law decided to go out on his own, opening an office in the Claus Spreckels Building. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimjIbTsbVBx0LsM3wap7G6bzPb84xVVos4KIsWJCJtaiUs_TBiyBywKCgBw3QBlDe99tKQrjyy6Be2RvJtXKUcBZW5TyHfpyU1xBegAesJgy3froutz5Slby5tBojFmSxb0Qz00i42zZDqBepgq6Y3C_FilMWB-nZWshc56kC3D6MLy_EDrxVtnJIElA/s1415/Claus%20Spreckels%20Building.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1415" data-original-width="885" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimjIbTsbVBx0LsM3wap7G6bzPb84xVVos4KIsWJCJtaiUs_TBiyBywKCgBw3QBlDe99tKQrjyy6Be2RvJtXKUcBZW5TyHfpyU1xBegAesJgy3froutz5Slby5tBojFmSxb0Qz00i42zZDqBepgq6Y3C_FilMWB-nZWshc56kC3D6MLy_EDrxVtnJIElA/w400-h640/Claus%20Spreckels%20Building.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As he became more well known, Lionel Joseph's name began to appear in the San Francisco newspapers on a regular basis, mostly with regard his being the attorney for the executors of estates moving through probate. But he was moving up in the world. The<i> San Francisco Chronicle</i> from September 26, 1898 in its column "Events in the Social World" reported the following:</div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="59" data-original-width="670" height="56" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbL2BAiA2RDcCdbZDbZBbVi9GF37wbVHNQpQUJkMvdOdvtaixP4xZYhlSF0nD6cxDUkqm5uFukTlWLFmPRUAWNzMcokP_s4jZQcJCcMwqcyvXgrZNC8NcU4fiowz-x1yKogklRLRF-ldQk0R8gYrFmwcSXTUGw-mSwSxBmwjbLCryo0XVvIqMM-EKD3A/w640-h56/New%20York.JPG" width="640" /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It appears that this trip to New York was more than a vacation. The<i> San Francisco Chronicle</i> from November 11, 1900 indicated that Joseph was back to San Francisco for a visit - and that he had been living in New York for "the last two years."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">During this time, Joseph maintained an official residence with his parents at 1235 Geary</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;">in San Francisco. A modern apartment building occupies that site today. But the 1900 US Census finds him living as a "Boarder" at 55 West 92nd Street in the Upper West Side of Manhattan. An apartment building built in 1951 occupies that spot today. Joseph reported that his occupation was "Clerk and Author." Surprisingly he not only told the census taker that he had been born in California, he said that both of his parents had been born in California as well. Of course none of them had been born in California. Lionel said he had worked during the entire year of 1900 and that he could, of course, both read and write. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">One of the first public offerings of young Joseph was a poem published in the <i>Baltimore Sun</i> newspaper of December 17, 1900 entitled "Of Things As They Are:"</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrcNjsK-1jQ7jbaFlVPfeP2PX0gpAqxJ3ZfFBe5raQHBFx7GqgE6Vo2-Iy3xybPkQDXxJeTFrgvyG-1mbsW3i-QZYiviwzUODlGLtxai0ObciKDieY4O0esN7lkmaQiPy1KfFGEytqqyq4qcjpNqo5Lx2WTUc0jYotTwD8zUSnZ_8e9FCc_WlIKu8nkw/s477/Things.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="477" data-original-width="277" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrcNjsK-1jQ7jbaFlVPfeP2PX0gpAqxJ3ZfFBe5raQHBFx7GqgE6Vo2-Iy3xybPkQDXxJeTFrgvyG-1mbsW3i-QZYiviwzUODlGLtxai0ObciKDieY4O0esN7lkmaQiPy1KfFGEytqqyq4qcjpNqo5Lx2WTUc0jYotTwD8zUSnZ_8e9FCc_WlIKu8nkw/w372-h640/Things.JPG" width="372" /></a></div><span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The excerpt refers to the poem having been first published in the <i>Century Magazine</i>. The online archives for the <i>Century</i> are spotty and I was unable to locate that reference in the issues available online.</span></p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You will note that the poem is signed "Lionel Josaphare" not "Lionel Joseph". For some reason Lionel Joseph decided to adopt a pen-name and published under the name "Lionel Josaphare." Perhaps he thought Josaphare sounded more poetic, hence better for a poet. History does not record how or why he picked his pen-name. You will see it spelled both "Josaphare" and "Josephare" but Lionel himself always spelled it "Josaphare". </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1901, Lionel Joseph published his first book, a book of poetry entitled "The Lion at the Well." </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="509" data-original-width="328" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia5wU0sGmeazSkdEKAOi_sjvWgnhqHGGDkG3lNS18rgpAM7jJeezCVZAzBWSOHU_ytao0vfaMtsaH-VFamxxbMvvo1RSVIKm1NqOzfhppuLbP638f3k9rh6kNecVjGWEbl7bt2aRNgiFp5HfjqdqtzQZJkkleQnuW9ME_65h5yptpnGgGXkrKwZFxKhQ/w412-h640/Lion%20Title%20Page.JPG" width="412" /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="506" data-original-width="386" height="557" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1CDS2FUEwDPHm-7J73RJAgpaicOYCGvZtl5D82jZS7JdhTpot5fKc_IDKHUVdGPJo6mFV7mr7SPSbsWsgB9OIQLW2j8PwhdRzg1OegQStvA888eFDaA2L6R2nuKT1hMZX5gZnG2INDI_-0seh4-ytM8p8CuvFrCOXobctVUjpAwSch52EbzMti26XIg/w424-h557/Lion%20Title%20Page-2.JPG" width="424" /></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It is not a large book - only twenty-four pages - and it contains just two poems: "The Lion at the Well" and "The Grasshopper and the Butterfly." <i> </i>I am no judge of poetry. Like art and music I feel that it is a very personal thing. But here are excerpts so you can decide for yourself if you like it or not:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">From "The Lion at the Well":</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6HVEjFyzeggqUZjZlwpf1eHFtZBulDxDZp6woxNt_tKZMCuDjhyUJQeiBrTPxI_E-_YtXc99IMbhnMk6fEbofh3yOfF-R6RfY66h9LJrNwD01JaaRKfNuoRuHhbjkGGKPJhG2gWtMVEhWe_KEJtk9DFhnnA2w1QcB2qM3V6oU2UldHqmtnqLhlU2q1Q/s508/Lion-0.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="508" data-original-width="325" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6HVEjFyzeggqUZjZlwpf1eHFtZBulDxDZp6woxNt_tKZMCuDjhyUJQeiBrTPxI_E-_YtXc99IMbhnMk6fEbofh3yOfF-R6RfY66h9LJrNwD01JaaRKfNuoRuHhbjkGGKPJhG2gWtMVEhWe_KEJtk9DFhnnA2w1QcB2qM3V6oU2UldHqmtnqLhlU2q1Q/w410-h640/Lion-0.JPG" width="410" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="505" data-original-width="638" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhXB-VsvWKQObTerx6skOtLft-VsWhu6Nn3L0VndMiAcMsboTGtdQvJ5J0ylxwUbXewfvQtvbQ2QLYWOj9oJUp-F7F6QtYBUepunZW0rico5H6ergEbG93X7Rt3i9th6lBAD1sDgylWrGDuO8v7qjobgd4PNHA0DXv3Q48LVeExXj1I0dhPtcJYJZbSw/w640-h506/Lion%20Excerpt.JPG" width="640" /></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span>From</span><span> "</span><span>The Grasshopper and the Butterfly"</span><span>:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbS5pn268-MKa4NvUH8g7_M0CfKZll_ogjrtH0WN_2wtt--KnZcrQSxfjlcVBRFx2CNpNHLlmKFAIR4vSj_jnhRvRctIJBVcbHLg5cehCvLE2WmQjckchOrK8ytWS1WIZkdA0Ltutt6BEW5yM7ZKRSPJ7Z7FdC31S-6rpz6_-5lhMFfWAh8dBvlICc5A/s505/Lion-1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="505" data-original-width="328" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbS5pn268-MKa4NvUH8g7_M0CfKZll_ogjrtH0WN_2wtt--KnZcrQSxfjlcVBRFx2CNpNHLlmKFAIR4vSj_jnhRvRctIJBVcbHLg5cehCvLE2WmQjckchOrK8ytWS1WIZkdA0Ltutt6BEW5yM7ZKRSPJ7Z7FdC31S-6rpz6_-5lhMFfWAh8dBvlICc5A/w416-h640/Lion-1.JPG" width="416" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJotCwLTHnx6s_dlAaz8ye6vZt3gpRG71AAmZ48_XbRHYof5H_dkKnMhRVjdQGiLUnkT3OU0gzJQLfoqsWWf89I8mqag1VBx02cebomT6ZkrzDPrqzW1QeQ_2dPHaXZH5c985LrYSvEsbRk1fVZytLgN5pjJy7Px44aHAUfRW0CbpMdF_ArW95VkactQ/s635/Grasshopper%20Excerpt.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="505" data-original-width="635" height="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJotCwLTHnx6s_dlAaz8ye6vZt3gpRG71AAmZ48_XbRHYof5H_dkKnMhRVjdQGiLUnkT3OU0gzJQLfoqsWWf89I8mqag1VBx02cebomT6ZkrzDPrqzW1QeQ_2dPHaXZH5c985LrYSvEsbRk1fVZytLgN5pjJy7Px44aHAUfRW0CbpMdF_ArW95VkactQ/w640-h508/Grasshopper%20Excerpt.JPG" width="640" /></a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here is a review from the <i>San Francisco Call</i> from July 21, 1901:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNHV2KKqmoMf6OH7cRSQjBr2US9cQP7xHtP9WBWAv7B--ovGXOOvkLlZJc4D5DidKB7lJW3Dg-k3JvSWYJ0ZKwSZJUn6fB9UdMJnWe80_0OonfSJKnGXkePxCu3E5IrpRMrISviB3yuf4VDgwaWkhOzFxasPtmphbOOfdNOCCTU8yV23ztuvzaVqY98w/s312/SF%20Call%2021%20Jul%201901.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="117" data-original-width="312" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNHV2KKqmoMf6OH7cRSQjBr2US9cQP7xHtP9WBWAv7B--ovGXOOvkLlZJc4D5DidKB7lJW3Dg-k3JvSWYJ0ZKwSZJUn6fB9UdMJnWe80_0OonfSJKnGXkePxCu3E5IrpRMrISviB3yuf4VDgwaWkhOzFxasPtmphbOOfdNOCCTU8yV23ztuvzaVqY98w/w640-h240/SF%20Call%2021%20Jul%201901.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and one from t</span><span style="font-size: medium;">he <i>Louisville (KY) Courier-Journal</i> from May 04, 1901:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnFW6fJ1FcRDTe9UgRDQI4CpS00nzXEphPMWcdYdVW16EJTC4LE9Ob3K-jUYgoUtohRlpfXwxCx5nsE3BG1P3qaZSWCh3yZaww6F4KHCwEfMs3EpStkm_lcLTxbGgkHqInFuPbttO9KVl_JdPmoqrWD3rZgCc4ZSeq8zYcYWOFQuMTbjj3Nh9Y2EKHQ/s421/Louisville%20Courier-Journal%2004%20May%201901.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="243" data-original-width="421" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnFW6fJ1FcRDTe9UgRDQI4CpS00nzXEphPMWcdYdVW16EJTC4LE9Ob3K-jUYgoUtohRlpfXwxCx5nsE3BG1P3qaZSWCh3yZaww6F4KHCwEfMs3EpStkm_lcLTxbGgkHqInFuPbttO9KVl_JdPmoqrWD3rZgCc4ZSeq8zYcYWOFQuMTbjj3Nh9Y2EKHQ/w640-h370/Louisville%20Courier-Journal%2004%20May%201901.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />As mentioned in the <i>Call</i> clipping above, shortly after the release of "The Lion at the Well', early in 1901, Lionel Josaphare published his second book of poetry, "Turquoise and Iron" later that same year. This volume is larger - 104 pages - and contains twenty-four of his poems. A few examples of its contents:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYFnweOoLVkxOdW3cwe-qxbrZ2RCIs16O_VnTS-4pI63YthRapmi2xoOLxIJnv0gEiabl9nRCWJDMpjA6PgGHyh_JZt-iRT3FxIeI76c7hFydwFWd1dYac3B0gnq5Ce9N4_x3exZkhZPhSMUbet-O-TMfGzrRsVxk8OzkUfofzaDsDhylnyZZv8E_CSQ/s471/Turquoise%20Cover.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="471" data-original-width="310" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYFnweOoLVkxOdW3cwe-qxbrZ2RCIs16O_VnTS-4pI63YthRapmi2xoOLxIJnv0gEiabl9nRCWJDMpjA6PgGHyh_JZt-iRT3FxIeI76c7hFydwFWd1dYac3B0gnq5Ce9N4_x3exZkhZPhSMUbet-O-TMfGzrRsVxk8OzkUfofzaDsDhylnyZZv8E_CSQ/w422-h640/Turquoise%20Cover.JPG" width="422" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Jn0DudUB6R7081QkP1vARb4XSZ_itO0LtdNpmBoPdjd3PP-cltLKqMJCXAbOm5jLZeSpf-bj3wmmQihMfAw31hHdbqq98AQn3Vq2fdkrHP5XQNt2dJZSX0g-MdwpXau69U05ZynBb1foGIDcSuPMI7SqPRE5TsB8aAgoOqZtocdysW4L09JHAYTIhw/s634/Turquoise-1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="634" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Jn0DudUB6R7081QkP1vARb4XSZ_itO0LtdNpmBoPdjd3PP-cltLKqMJCXAbOm5jLZeSpf-bj3wmmQihMfAw31hHdbqq98AQn3Vq2fdkrHP5XQNt2dJZSX0g-MdwpXau69U05ZynBb1foGIDcSuPMI7SqPRE5TsB8aAgoOqZtocdysW4L09JHAYTIhw/w640-h504/Turquoise-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL4GgOnjb9DkcEfZpAAMEAh3OQCIndoS_AxIrc3L0yyCQbRfXCVlnbUU6YYjQAT_ZYsM4V-un0unCSpYlKXv-DW_P_YE4dh-ifwQZuijzzfYKNzYgLolz_IJQf9KaWq9oYUrWtaefM_elMScEs0t02v6aH-LoDQy80Wol7MYhmUzFty_US3Ik8q0VGTg/s506/Turquoise-2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="506" data-original-width="327" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL4GgOnjb9DkcEfZpAAMEAh3OQCIndoS_AxIrc3L0yyCQbRfXCVlnbUU6YYjQAT_ZYsM4V-un0unCSpYlKXv-DW_P_YE4dh-ifwQZuijzzfYKNzYgLolz_IJQf9KaWq9oYUrWtaefM_elMScEs0t02v6aH-LoDQy80Wol7MYhmUzFty_US3Ik8q0VGTg/w414-h640/Turquoise-2.JPG" width="414" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lezJrMu1STPouRn45xeqKb_wgFQ9ZXEatAZkP_GIBQOZSWNmvM6tSdBYvVYfHXnA2Rsf8CyYzNHHYrfVgRyKmKBofPS2Fg0l1FjwZzxErHl3EIPTmCiyXo_HtLF_0-IIyh051pyw9uUc6ccm85Cy3n-g9dbXZ9gt2Z4jgZxu86Bl08uuuSzdDl59eg/s502/Turquoise-3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="502" data-original-width="324" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lezJrMu1STPouRn45xeqKb_wgFQ9ZXEatAZkP_GIBQOZSWNmvM6tSdBYvVYfHXnA2Rsf8CyYzNHHYrfVgRyKmKBofPS2Fg0l1FjwZzxErHl3EIPTmCiyXo_HtLF_0-IIyh051pyw9uUc6ccm85Cy3n-g9dbXZ9gt2Z4jgZxu86Bl08uuuSzdDl59eg/w414-h640/Turquoise-3.JPG" width="414" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjexjKPovw9E1HPyoBqmc_kxpeV1DZx3iQLstntLOuItqqkIEXmeOkRs_WvNy6S5W1UHkiSGB1gWGnn-evEnBqBkRgQWLTwhGMGBkR0y1Xldif4qPb7p1wAE5JQDTajvWLhhSJrVr4_hNwscnpCuKSAQUQ2K1X1NUkxAR8Jp8m_8v1syZXHo3Rint60xw/s504/Turquoise-4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="504" data-original-width="321" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjexjKPovw9E1HPyoBqmc_kxpeV1DZx3iQLstntLOuItqqkIEXmeOkRs_WvNy6S5W1UHkiSGB1gWGnn-evEnBqBkRgQWLTwhGMGBkR0y1Xldif4qPb7p1wAE5JQDTajvWLhhSJrVr4_hNwscnpCuKSAQUQ2K1X1NUkxAR8Jp8m_8v1syZXHo3Rint60xw/w408-h640/Turquoise-4.JPG" width="408" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih3hZTcsXap1aPAQKEW6Ggl9ddzoOAo2UoR2nqR5TJXUJqU-ohWV10f9KgFXksyZFwzjTijhWCC0W2_4wfDT2hy2T5CY8jT_trnOxtl5cvKDy-1YKcM627jZfWcDEURzlfztYZyAgCPRuE5dd3yX1ymfivmXVtHuHSxv1KYsKZhIwNnNkMmpky9t5h3w/s639/Turquoise-5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="502" data-original-width="639" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih3hZTcsXap1aPAQKEW6Ggl9ddzoOAo2UoR2nqR5TJXUJqU-ohWV10f9KgFXksyZFwzjTijhWCC0W2_4wfDT2hy2T5CY8jT_trnOxtl5cvKDy-1YKcM627jZfWcDEURzlfztYZyAgCPRuE5dd3yX1ymfivmXVtHuHSxv1KYsKZhIwNnNkMmpky9t5h3w/w640-h502/Turquoise-5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The reviews of "Turquoise and Iron" were mixed. Here is one from the<i> Deseret News</i> from December 28, 1901:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbVyj4EqlU5Bik_2yepBUmfYm1SWzz0a0YGsffjcY6bLbvDulIRxp4EMDwDNKExG3s-B8WzRRRhGn2_claYXMyrMRe5sn1Q82xBCm2NJ0A-HOyK56kHZKcdYAB5ehLeLqFKiEWG3oz7YXUmIVEKkr0xkCdwACU9GzMFMc10tfQp5BQm3u1cP9JWOkAWw/s582/Deseret%20News%2028%20Dec%201901.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="582" data-original-width="475" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbVyj4EqlU5Bik_2yepBUmfYm1SWzz0a0YGsffjcY6bLbvDulIRxp4EMDwDNKExG3s-B8WzRRRhGn2_claYXMyrMRe5sn1Q82xBCm2NJ0A-HOyK56kHZKcdYAB5ehLeLqFKiEWG3oz7YXUmIVEKkr0xkCdwACU9GzMFMc10tfQp5BQm3u1cP9JWOkAWw/w522-h640/Deseret%20News%2028%20Dec%201901.JPG" width="522" /></a></div><br />Here is a lengthy (and not always complimentary) review from the <i>San Francisco Call </i>of December 8, 1901:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXaKtWL9NONSzEDiOrN3oQ9Y1BRb8tb2xSfQFHhB52Qk6JojHtqLGovyLu6A94MlVPMlpt19lAypFwUc7q-VkmOG16WBf_HySEfQCuChjHGZd2JyT1SRiBxVDMp_LE8xHqXzBPrZDczxs-yMb7nRMDQ3TbRgEh60HB7N2nD5JOsXGdSbcSvk3M8VLD0g/s859/SF%20Call%2008%20Dec%201901-1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="859" data-original-width="319" height="1015" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXaKtWL9NONSzEDiOrN3oQ9Y1BRb8tb2xSfQFHhB52Qk6JojHtqLGovyLu6A94MlVPMlpt19lAypFwUc7q-VkmOG16WBf_HySEfQCuChjHGZd2JyT1SRiBxVDMp_LE8xHqXzBPrZDczxs-yMb7nRMDQ3TbRgEh60HB7N2nD5JOsXGdSbcSvk3M8VLD0g/w377-h1015/SF%20Call%2008%20Dec%201901-1.JPG" width="377" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJZGRcDzyhqKW6G2O2qPzebsEayPJ97XNAsP5eddXwcix2Iodctewrr_UZGtihhwDK6wxaTGAD14MxcVo2OhNyAU-Mlrh19zdwYwP2yLnbHVlwjWiDoxRAaUfsBHkUU9d8Ar--ivdY-E3Qz14DySpkP_cN3HVdARS2W0-I88gVz1CZ_tbRiG9xAhaNqA/s1414/SF%20Call%2008%20Dec%201901-2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1414" data-original-width="325" height="1665" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJZGRcDzyhqKW6G2O2qPzebsEayPJ97XNAsP5eddXwcix2Iodctewrr_UZGtihhwDK6wxaTGAD14MxcVo2OhNyAU-Mlrh19zdwYwP2yLnbHVlwjWiDoxRAaUfsBHkUU9d8Ar--ivdY-E3Qz14DySpkP_cN3HVdARS2W0-I88gVz1CZ_tbRiG9xAhaNqA/w385-h1665/SF%20Call%2008%20Dec%201901-2.JPG" width="385" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgr3IlWtyVa-Ff-PxsiSUvgvPN09rRos1Ds8dQ9tnQuoOf4y7pYaCmOUQpYJBWYo1eP9Jvo7uNpaLKVeV0usVwBJuiDUvVvb9BneAp80EXPS9nfvb4R59Q2u7u7wiyqrt1HmCFxg76a2ygx541tFRYFqOkG5Wkwo5DUPD-5Mcl7AcXShbih8agdBXcpQ/s843/SF%20Call%2008%20dec%201901-3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="843" data-original-width="315" height="1040" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgr3IlWtyVa-Ff-PxsiSUvgvPN09rRos1Ds8dQ9tnQuoOf4y7pYaCmOUQpYJBWYo1eP9Jvo7uNpaLKVeV0usVwBJuiDUvVvb9BneAp80EXPS9nfvb4R59Q2u7u7wiyqrt1HmCFxg76a2ygx541tFRYFqOkG5Wkwo5DUPD-5Mcl7AcXShbih8agdBXcpQ/w390-h1040/SF%20Call%2008%20dec%201901-3.JPG" width="390" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEits5nrb2Vf3mlNgFSudwA_BF3KVL2Kq5Zx6wterET0E4m2blYUcUzDLXPU3Dlk18UQjZFccqFSzteXNV5jZrDtlRyAG2obc0XIwwqCDDheNId9wdGdGw0O1DRqqR6XAD9e4QO7FPXiYdGtWjucNiWPwxpxkbXK7NnWKSzZ04WnOf37ZkTMSIlxQZiMfw/s954/SF%20Call%2008%20Dec%201901-4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="954" data-original-width="327" height="1134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEits5nrb2Vf3mlNgFSudwA_BF3KVL2Kq5Zx6wterET0E4m2blYUcUzDLXPU3Dlk18UQjZFccqFSzteXNV5jZrDtlRyAG2obc0XIwwqCDDheNId9wdGdGw0O1DRqqR6XAD9e4QO7FPXiYdGtWjucNiWPwxpxkbXK7NnWKSzZ04WnOf37ZkTMSIlxQZiMfw/w390-h1134/SF%20Call%2008%20Dec%201901-4.JPG" width="390" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Here's an ad from the <i>San Francisco Chronicle</i> from June 1, 1902 for "Turquoise and Iron":</span><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCu9EjCMkjfizkdXwJF4JqR3LNof9TZI6VuiHEgQ9BIyekcQt0j5l82pk6qPchUgZvlox53O4zjnKotYXnAoA6emchbLpk53MGk627L7FnVAtoh1im_Z4gugw4nI-ZtfZ2eKm4t-bUT5GaR3M3F9GcGxJslX-GvbDhO94Y2PFxqyIg_8NaWxsBCuQkBw/s321/Turquoise%20&%20Irom%20Chronicle%20ad%20%20Jun%201902.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="321" data-original-width="270" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCu9EjCMkjfizkdXwJF4JqR3LNof9TZI6VuiHEgQ9BIyekcQt0j5l82pk6qPchUgZvlox53O4zjnKotYXnAoA6emchbLpk53MGk627L7FnVAtoh1im_Z4gugw4nI-ZtfZ2eKm4t-bUT5GaR3M3F9GcGxJslX-GvbDhO94Y2PFxqyIg_8NaWxsBCuQkBw/w538-h640/Turquoise%20&%20Irom%20Chronicle%20ad%20%20Jun%201902.JPG" width="538" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Between 1901 and 1903, Josaphare published frequently:</span></div><div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjOkR4VSxEpN5DU1ApaUNluaVf4U6FGv4VsJD-gA73PAbpargbXqx6MjLVS98cqk6xxeU3aQOOHfDWomjmn7B4CLBMLo9uTotuILfECiZ_6QBi5D-NU6ACzmcZjn6WDrlUvWOCl1iaLGje4wCiN46bzaP231Dj_18kgHFL31yDI-jxjEY5CWUMShjRkhA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="253" data-original-width="979" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjOkR4VSxEpN5DU1ApaUNluaVf4U6FGv4VsJD-gA73PAbpargbXqx6MjLVS98cqk6xxeU3aQOOHfDWomjmn7B4CLBMLo9uTotuILfECiZ_6QBi5D-NU6ACzmcZjn6WDrlUvWOCl1iaLGje4wCiN46bzaP231Dj_18kgHFL31yDI-jxjEY5CWUMShjRkhA=w640-h166" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkCpbV-K4_w0GtQjiUlukCoOjw_OB92seO_6I65FECKt6mQKb4jWQjmL25jC704XpgQCwfiUY4L5pp5Y97ObXEDgPYffqtVx04shC0NXwpcFlPlOftB0lUxEdhTaB3QWioE45w4-7Mzt5-KnI3Tz58cJQXcTqLhBkWFTlwI381ziFomOO3xNzcJP87tA/s1673/The%20Divine%20Question.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1673" data-original-width="1225" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkCpbV-K4_w0GtQjiUlukCoOjw_OB92seO_6I65FECKt6mQKb4jWQjmL25jC704XpgQCwfiUY4L5pp5Y97ObXEDgPYffqtVx04shC0NXwpcFlPlOftB0lUxEdhTaB3QWioE45w4-7Mzt5-KnI3Tz58cJQXcTqLhBkWFTlwI381ziFomOO3xNzcJP87tA/w468-h640/The%20Divine%20Question.jpg" width="468" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="679" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnWniuVGAHCkBM8NmIahW44MvNNJkw5A3X2S3YMM86mC1ixQWvz7pS9iiFNS2yrDudLrv0g3KQAxkQaLqvx4h5OgjQnb1ykmKA6QH2aLrk_UTCfr4l3fjreud_uY7QJDWgSJmb5R9i0Z1KNPQQ3a8_vOmYyJ0CrmPNwBL3jr7Cz3w7Bp3oufAdoqC0Tg/w456-h640/flimflamsocietyg00josarich_0003.jpg" width="456" /></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3B5ZqSrcp7rUNBeaUleY316hc4l_0Evoj5IyeElTOzZeUbQ8McLa5Kfoi15eN7ddb8ZQFLIJX4MN97p_4pzV9HWt0pSi1_mslClYY0X0f4qs88gGCCquYoNhaeGupwpCe9ld_BERT6VKwvGD_eVXv-uIt_4sbnJp253eBexRSh0RyCIDXL-3exzaYqA/s591/humpbackcrippleo00josa_0001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="420" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3B5ZqSrcp7rUNBeaUleY316hc4l_0Evoj5IyeElTOzZeUbQ8McLa5Kfoi15eN7ddb8ZQFLIJX4MN97p_4pzV9HWt0pSi1_mslClYY0X0f4qs88gGCCquYoNhaeGupwpCe9ld_BERT6VKwvGD_eVXv-uIt_4sbnJp253eBexRSh0RyCIDXL-3exzaYqA/w454-h640/humpbackcrippleo00josa_0001.jpg" width="454" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">During this period Josaphare also edited a poetry magazine called <i>The Flame</i>. Here's a review of "The Flame" from the <i>San Francisco Examiner</i> from March 15, 1903:</div></span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="270" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhziWGPjr9RTb_Fd1-leIihI_doIwe3e-AoTU9hn4XtY5c9GjhaB_VMSAeJyriE8wzhEQNEW0wV2ed8DJsWuHODHiunI0v5df4IQdRuDOD3ivBWkp87EhiTshKeC8y33Z6tpMYD8Ln4wrYgHE3_gjJfrEep8CJH19LuZp2IZHWqiOkNVSh-x8vwtfRCRQ/w384-h640/Flame.JPG" width="384" /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1903 he published a pamphlet entitled "Tale of a Town," or The Progress of the Trust." It was a leaflet, printed in San Francisco, giving an account of a trust, a strike, the coming of militia to suppress the strike, and the destruction of the little town. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Josaphare also frequently contributed to a San Francisco newspaper called the <i>Argonaut</i>. This is from the <i>San Luis Obispo (CA) Morning Tribune</i> from August 19, 1904:</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5UTRyw3LeGx_ZFh-IhBAnrCoSycQpZfxiBjbuvQhJ19eo6jWvY7dqiR5mjnOrkFZt6HTJ9lpvM_6wOshV88j_ac2NxnEp7oBZ9xRPpqVJ9PdcDCnhT9giWEyeJ0hsGtnDf03R5sRBAuJsk1YCDUiOjJ8lcsU6BdZAgN1ojVLPZ00uOg2g_JVhthHQA/s379/Argonaut.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="379" data-original-width="254" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5UTRyw3LeGx_ZFh-IhBAnrCoSycQpZfxiBjbuvQhJ19eo6jWvY7dqiR5mjnOrkFZt6HTJ9lpvM_6wOshV88j_ac2NxnEp7oBZ9xRPpqVJ9PdcDCnhT9giWEyeJ0hsGtnDf03R5sRBAuJsk1YCDUiOjJ8lcsU6BdZAgN1ojVLPZ00uOg2g_JVhthHQA/w428-h640/Argonaut.JPG" width="428" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But it was not all work for Lionel Joseph. He managed to find time to marry Maud Coan (1886-1935) in Kings County, New York on June 29, 1904. Strangely Lionel indicated on the documents that his last name was "Josaphare" although there is no evidence he ever officially had his name changed. In years to come whenever Maud used her married name, she used "Josaphare". </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdG62EZmRibrs6NElCagI3oy80IwHFFAnIz9SSTPDouMzW1VWiJXD1EPZSGjyfTDVnJxLgWuipaFoAHj4mXTeT58MXRPnN8HRmqOuIk9ya1gm7LX5QqrKvwN6YHkmRmA_fJzmaZyr9cspPEldJ3Et9A2tgoF8_xPJONDztXHP4L8397aqM0ZkI5GHi_Q/s483/MaudCoanJosaphare1912.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="483" data-original-width="326" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdG62EZmRibrs6NElCagI3oy80IwHFFAnIz9SSTPDouMzW1VWiJXD1EPZSGjyfTDVnJxLgWuipaFoAHj4mXTeT58MXRPnN8HRmqOuIk9ya1gm7LX5QqrKvwN6YHkmRmA_fJzmaZyr9cspPEldJ3Et9A2tgoF8_xPJONDztXHP4L8397aqM0ZkI5GHi_Q/w432-h640/MaudCoanJosaphare1912.jpg" width="432" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maud Coan Josaphare</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lionel and Maud were blessed with a daughter, Helen Blair Josephare (1905-1972), born September 21, 1905 in Pennsylvania, where Maud's family lived. It is not known how long Lionel and Maud lived together but it appears it was not long. On January 19, 1908 Maud had her daughter baptized into the Presbyterian Church at the Patterson Memorial Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The Baptismal Register shows Helen's mother as "Maud C. Josaphare", but the space for the father is left blank.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lionel Joseph came from a Jewish family. If he was still in the picture it is unlikely that he would have allowed his daughter to be baptized. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The great San Francisco Earthquake took place on April 18, 1906. Lionel Josaphare had returned to San Francisco from the east coast and was living with his parents. Their was no sign of his wife and daughter - they remained back east. Lionel and his family all survived the earthquake and subsequent fire. Less than one month later, on May 7, 1906, Lionel Josaphare and some of his friends gathered at Coppa's Restaurant to reminisce. Coppa's was a well known restaurant that became legendary in the early 20th century as a gathering spot for bohemian artists and writers, especially after they decorated its walls with curious and intriguing murals. Lionel ultimately wrote a poem about the aftermath of the tragedy and it was published in the <i>Oakland Tribune</i> in their May 19, 1906 edition. Here it is:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><i>JOSAPHARE SINGS OF BOHEMIA<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><i>In Coppa’s, on the night of May seventh, there assembled that
bunch of Bohemians by which the little Italian restaurant that has survived
seismic disturbance and devastating flames was made famous. Lionel Josaphare was elected poet laureate
for the occasion. Porter Garnet wanted
the job, but he was barred, owing to the fact that since the catastrophe he
dropped out of journalism to become a hotel clerk. Josaphare commemorated the occasion in these
lines:</i><span style="font-size: 22pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 22pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><i style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif;">Adieu to the earthquake, farewell to the flames –</i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> And twelve of us
wassailed in looted sauterne<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> Our hearts mid the
ruins still played the old games,<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> For the business
of hearts is to ruin and burn.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>‘Twas at Coppa’s, where oft we had flung the confetti.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> (We didn’t do
that – I aver the thing solely<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>To make the line rhyme with his wiggling spaghetti – <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> And also, in
passing, his famed ravioli)<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>Around us, Destruction has painted in black<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> The bricks and
the beams of the tumble-down city,<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>Night gave to the scene an impressionist smack<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> We pitied the
smash-up and danced in our pity.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>Why not? In eternity
beauty is tinder,<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> There are graves
all around us, wherever we dance.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>The city had fallen wide, cinder on cinder.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> Like ghosts we
returned there and laughed in a trance.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>Of the women and men of us, there was a best<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> A prettiest,
merriest, bravest in brawl.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>Gladdest, loveliest, brainiest, quickest in jest.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> Wisest,
staunchest, and finest and greatest of all<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>Gone where the subtle, risotto-fed waiters,<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> Sleek, sloe-eyed,
cash registering Felix was gone.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>‘Twas a donation feast eaten by the donators<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> On one table only
our candles three, shone.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span><i style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif;"> </i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>But around in the shadow a phantasmagoria<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> Of memories dined
with us, nodded and gleamed,<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>Dear unknown friends and many a glory a<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> Man would give
half of his soul to’ve redeemed.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>There seemed the dim cheek my own oft pinked at;<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> (It’s blushing I
mean) and there the blonde lass<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>At whose onetime glances full often I’d winked at;<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> And there one to
whom I’d oft lifted my glass.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>In fancy’s far colors they spectrally sat – <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> O lavenders,
purples, pale greys and faint yellows!-<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>The women asmile with Bohemian chat;<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> The maidens
light-laughing at devilish fellows.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>When erstwhile we dined at the good center table,<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> We looked at
those people as mere decorations;<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>They figured us part of the show to enable<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> Them more to
enjoy their inane mastications.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span><i style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif;"> </i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>A trick of the brain!
(“Tis easy for genius,<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> Though our food
had been recently quite unsublime- <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>A diet corn-beefy, mixed pickly, sardineous.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> No matter); the
vision is gone for the time.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>Thus hedged in with flame-eaten alleys and castles.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> Full snugly at
Coppa’s we mumble and laugh<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>The camp-fires, the sentries, the night-bugling vassals.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> Keep guard on the
street; to them let us quaff.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>Good luck to the army that took such good care of us’<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> Good luck to the
earthquake that brought us all here’<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>The sounds of our city are gone from the fare of us.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> To the music
that’s left let us still lay an ear<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>So here’s to the twelve of us! Here’s to the best.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> And the
prettiest, merriest, bravest in brawl,<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>Gladdest, loveliest, brainiest, quickest in jest<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> Wisest staunchest
and finest and greatest of all.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span><i style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif;"> -Town
Talk</i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">In 1906, Lionel Josaphare was asked to fill out a card about his accomplishments for the California State Library Biographical Index project. Here's what he submitted:</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="351" data-original-width="569" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3azdh5hRxnSEBqWhj7CRvLDu2ax5ndo7gLcaNAtXNMsjuBoHxASMrJ9sExoHvcZ9lHyDGdVErAwNIs6IoGNpunLJO1Jjp_qY5LqdSHdAE_vdSNzf-EX5J2u1Nf5E8i1hdW9JAPbX6bgds_zMBqrfArlqXevLlBw3-ZLeuSssV_CXxJa9f9Rr_Ndx-ng/w640-h394/1906-1.png" width="640" /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKisaMh1WouX-0Leb9JGOhPUn0j9ugngrucyFQYuNASQHNSc29pOb89JypaniJfNDUcpv0hMGZ_k7lvnefjRZCfKqzN-mVxhgSdq9HZKAI2kt1Yeo9XD8IWoKqYnYlj6PE4On-okJhQmcyK1F-5AhAgh4gGvD4B7oKRD4cvYOOP0_GlTpc-eWtAIsSsw/s524/1906-2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="324" data-original-width="524" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKisaMh1WouX-0Leb9JGOhPUn0j9ugngrucyFQYuNASQHNSc29pOb89JypaniJfNDUcpv0hMGZ_k7lvnefjRZCfKqzN-mVxhgSdq9HZKAI2kt1Yeo9XD8IWoKqYnYlj6PE4On-okJhQmcyK1F-5AhAgh4gGvD4B7oKRD4cvYOOP0_GlTpc-eWtAIsSsw/w640-h396/1906-2.png" width="640" /></a></span></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Not bad for a thirty year old.</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Lionel Josaphare resumed having his work published in book form after the earthquake. Between 1907 and 1909 he published three volumes:</span></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjrZHZUtift51-fbqwIPJpARoFaRbo8HBan8LMZdRSPymWYVp144TXJr3zm0Ep6zJuN_HRxdHJD4o6xj877RRFMfn35hfTVhcNrLGnouyso5oTA2jrOEzAm-IjcQsxk_S2J-XJaG8UCs4Ni36MvyJMNf3LhQctJl4PVCXowXqW0fTh8YKeg3RKERX8KsQ" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="127" data-original-width="979" height="84" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjrZHZUtift51-fbqwIPJpARoFaRbo8HBan8LMZdRSPymWYVp144TXJr3zm0Ep6zJuN_HRxdHJD4o6xj877RRFMfn35hfTVhcNrLGnouyso5oTA2jrOEzAm-IjcQsxk_S2J-XJaG8UCs4Ni36MvyJMNf3LhQctJl4PVCXowXqW0fTh8YKeg3RKERX8KsQ=w640-h84" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><br /></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj37bJBhIndUw0wSYtr1zPnvP5gTLWzbvIcr9G4P8c1oCzfYXkirlMGFTD9ENi5UlGQmdOxA5j3DxE6aNiNKB1C0Rgbbop3YQlb1kVV9kSDTXsKM3LDnPIN89r9QMKMzLV1Mdw0JgFvzxrQ2cugAmERjoo_TLIHrCq3UGzS9meNzzf0ichCmfHgykzv0Q/s500/The%20Man%20Who%20Wanted%20a%20Bungalow.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="330" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj37bJBhIndUw0wSYtr1zPnvP5gTLWzbvIcr9G4P8c1oCzfYXkirlMGFTD9ENi5UlGQmdOxA5j3DxE6aNiNKB1C0Rgbbop3YQlb1kVV9kSDTXsKM3LDnPIN89r9QMKMzLV1Mdw0JgFvzxrQ2cugAmERjoo_TLIHrCq3UGzS9meNzzf0ichCmfHgykzv0Q/w422-h640/The%20Man%20Who%20Wanted%20a%20Bungalow.jpg" width="422" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 16pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7jELQIqH6rFDWiQCbcNb18iynzVFon0cP0K2k_qgkpGSvGAXCN6DlXiKZlkchpin7xzKbJ3TyhzbQaF8rjIKczvtAm6YOfS157Oa9rO8IoXO_p4J1KkfbMMZcYURNHX9dDUsZRwYl6fzH1wc7LV6gU1ysOVTZgr0dZ4SRKRRllrOeNQeYPfxE0Xms5A/s448/Sovereign%20in%20the%20street.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="448" data-original-width="333" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7jELQIqH6rFDWiQCbcNb18iynzVFon0cP0K2k_qgkpGSvGAXCN6DlXiKZlkchpin7xzKbJ3TyhzbQaF8rjIKczvtAm6YOfS157Oa9rO8IoXO_p4J1KkfbMMZcYURNHX9dDUsZRwYl6fzH1wc7LV6gU1ysOVTZgr0dZ4SRKRRllrOeNQeYPfxE0Xms5A/w476-h640/Sovereign%20in%20the%20street.JPG" width="476" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXtYZyEYRlF3bZwRX4wlfg9zTkDVTlZU-j9yvn9wof1f5ZMYrqg14aEqs-gGlCI06c8y1Nsh7wRmz3JpFE5CpSgpPIVNlQsvFVj1bT8ywL7XyzDdX4KOMar1SxAOsLO6ZR9viyGPmHvlsWH2FXIHZom7j0HnSkaRkrgrDuk-bsMQVhGRT_-Y1FWBf7sQ/s422/world%20of%20suckers.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="422" data-original-width="318" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXtYZyEYRlF3bZwRX4wlfg9zTkDVTlZU-j9yvn9wof1f5ZMYrqg14aEqs-gGlCI06c8y1Nsh7wRmz3JpFE5CpSgpPIVNlQsvFVj1bT8ywL7XyzDdX4KOMar1SxAOsLO6ZR9viyGPmHvlsWH2FXIHZom7j0HnSkaRkrgrDuk-bsMQVhGRT_-Y1FWBf7sQ/w482-h640/world%20of%20suckers.jpg" width="482" /></a></div> </span></div><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The full title of 'The Man Who Wanted a Bungalow" was "The Man Who Wanted a Bungalow: </span>Being the Veracious Account of an Author Who Went Back to Nature to Get Inspiration and Reduce Expenses." </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As with his previous books, the reviews were mixed. Here's one from the <i>San Francisco</i> <i>Call</i> from December 29, 1907:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ2oU6XiHy1RJ-8M6fII2farPigivX2SlBdgFJgawlKM2YP5Vp7-id4p7d-3sSamRXSWRSG2if9l5URzO86yF3BKX8SwdVWOc3C1rL-YKZ2SR2pcgro145usHLmQ86uHael7EJHucx8W6xKDOl3Nv_pIDOdBFkbmkANV8WcgmANCz6_81PwnxquvhmNQ/s620/Bungalow.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="484" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ2oU6XiHy1RJ-8M6fII2farPigivX2SlBdgFJgawlKM2YP5Vp7-id4p7d-3sSamRXSWRSG2if9l5URzO86yF3BKX8SwdVWOc3C1rL-YKZ2SR2pcgro145usHLmQ86uHael7EJHucx8W6xKDOl3Nv_pIDOdBFkbmkANV8WcgmANCz6_81PwnxquvhmNQ/w501-h640/Bungalow.JPG" width="501" /></a></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <span style="font-family: Bookman Old Style, serif;"><o:p style="font-size: 16pt;"></o:p></span></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p>In addition to his books, Josaphare also continued to supply poems to the newspapers. Here's one from the <i>Washington (DC) Evening Star</i> from October 18, 1908:</o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 16pt; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="833" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHmIbzmQmg4NpnrT6JPVgoCymMZ4pKgKYm4oa0TqcS-e-xyZygc9XMYTxaWdaoduzq9vnfZ2kTUdXwA2Ru6baUz42xXfbyXfIOwLB3mEMjNoro_BPAGPVe7T19ag7wK9HwjcW3ZEIlUG2UWAgns6GqrS7w9UauQAWwzk6PNfN--R0rC3R7UxFOdXq-RQ/w640-h408/1908%20POem.JPG" width="640" /></span></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He also tried his hand at writing straight fiction. One of his works was called "The Fictitious History of the World." It appeared in <i>Overland Monthly Magazine</i> in February of 1910. Here is the first page:</span></span></p><p></p></span></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="425" height="807" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbMKkCVlFLOU3eCEbBpAZLI9wOBQEu7o0RA8MeM1OQfuZwvjpVXt6s1-93dibfNj5YehySuHWOonJVDc4KsC6sUslxdWFRRWjMCdg71P2v5AcQQcYt9cplkUWM7b_NpVXchhmhgVt0zOX-HmaILzw8pK43DQ3NabMrl3YFJ7F6WeYNuEwVtQRdaqCovw/w527-h807/History.JPG" width="527" /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1910 US Census finds Lionel Joseph still living with his parents in the "Empire Apartments" at 1040 Leavenworth Street in San Francisco. 1040 Leavenworth is a building built right after the earthquake and fire of 1906. The building is still there, but I'm sure it looks much different that it did in 1906:</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMxRMKOAvqyzKtJmu8IsntRvlXAhYD-1_CSm7D1__9nv0-RMOSU0bKSIXpcBTPUtp2VYEWcPBicrwoun7PSpV73W_Par2BSFp7kN-O1Oq_w-_BtyEORd6EKXBfW1p8MoVmLIPFy-Njcd24hs77AdlTe7U_AVqoTEdPR--QbGldiwFP0UGCJ-a2sp2uMw/s620/1040%20Leavenworth%20street.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="530" data-original-width="620" height="548" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMxRMKOAvqyzKtJmu8IsntRvlXAhYD-1_CSm7D1__9nv0-RMOSU0bKSIXpcBTPUtp2VYEWcPBicrwoun7PSpV73W_Par2BSFp7kN-O1Oq_w-_BtyEORd6EKXBfW1p8MoVmLIPFy-Njcd24hs77AdlTe7U_AVqoTEdPR--QbGldiwFP0UGCJ-a2sp2uMw/w640-h548/1040%20Leavenworth%20street.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1040 Leavenworth Street, San Francisco</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">The family consisted of Lionell (sic) 29 years old, his parents Isaac (56) and Carrie (45), and Lionel's sister Frances (23). Lionel indicated that he was single, born in Missouri, and could read, write and speak English. He said his occupation was "Journalist for a Newspaper." One interesting item stands out from this Census: Carrie Joseph indicated that she had given birth to three children, and all three were alive in 1910. The only children of Isaac and Carrie that I was aware of are Lionel and his sister Frances. Further research discovered in the 1900 US Census another daughter, Gertrude, who the census said had been born in October of 1873. Remember that at the time of the 1900 US Census Lionel was living in New York so he was not listed on the census with his parents.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A few things don't add up here. If Gertrude had been born in 1873 why wasn't she listed in the 1880 census listing for the Joseph family? She wasn't dead, because she would show up on the 1900 census. It is unlikely that the birth date of October of 1873 is correct because Isaac and Carrie didn't marry until 1875. Also, there is no mention of Gertrude in Isaac's 1919 Death Notice. I was unable to dig up any additional information on the elusive Gertrude Joseph until she pops up again the time Lionel Joseph died in 1933. More on that below. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Between 1910 and 1920 Lionel Josephare's name does not appear in newspapers as often as it had in the previous ten years. He was employed as a reporter by the <i>San Francisco</i> <i>Examiner</i> newspaper and as a "Special Writer" for the <i>Brooklyn Daily Eagle</i>. He did not publish any new books during the 1910s although he did publish a detailed review of "Valkyries of the Sea" by Xavier Martinez in the <i>San Francisco Call</i> of February 19, 1911</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ygAkWm5Ile-dM3MSL6QwwS82p7OzkSbDk3wKkYOi_TE7ZXicM9tUBcYSUrsCIprSUsCL5r32Zu-cubQqZNTAd_wxBvO9-88YHIndPH1zRCSRPpIpeRyX85Oj87yd_z-SQFshGsoQLVKJto9l8UmzZXAOmljzgjhczW27G1OcT8MdZKES5KflLDDkyg/s6626/Valkyries.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6626" data-original-width="5818" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ygAkWm5Ile-dM3MSL6QwwS82p7OzkSbDk3wKkYOi_TE7ZXicM9tUBcYSUrsCIprSUsCL5r32Zu-cubQqZNTAd_wxBvO9-88YHIndPH1zRCSRPpIpeRyX85Oj87yd_z-SQFshGsoQLVKJto9l8UmzZXAOmljzgjhczW27G1OcT8MdZKES5KflLDDkyg/w562-h640/Valkyries.jpg" width="562" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeORC6GK53WmAPtnuBtJvRxWG9oeAGfG0ftOGuE--qv2le59Errw0Z9Ci6dH4ePCamttMqx7uyaZ3bm3swVH8ae8Z_DJxNwisE9y6DKlJILUINcp0e4ZDvRu5hpdiT5LVFMoEqYXHzSYUfp1zXSjuRIkG-k0YMfEX064GNGKa1RUyFD7qTaTOhBx669g/s1534/Valkyries-2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="662" data-original-width="1534" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeORC6GK53WmAPtnuBtJvRxWG9oeAGfG0ftOGuE--qv2le59Errw0Z9Ci6dH4ePCamttMqx7uyaZ3bm3swVH8ae8Z_DJxNwisE9y6DKlJILUINcp0e4ZDvRu5hpdiT5LVFMoEqYXHzSYUfp1zXSjuRIkG-k0YMfEX064GNGKa1RUyFD7qTaTOhBx669g/w640-h276/Valkyries-2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8RXDoCB2qxt5_Jf_ZuQBKzldef_zpdcFSP1nPaQHgV6E476yylTYbVfmu0W24RDOVzkN-FT2VHLr5W5CteczcTdGlmOpMusOVD5swC_6xqs4Y8inZPpzil_ag99iM-s0-_oncO_51GiEjYq1kCMTvt37A6OTpXTRf24MGBy9uiNxXv--7aTaeyH_Iug/s1501/Valkryies-3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1501" data-original-width="484" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8RXDoCB2qxt5_Jf_ZuQBKzldef_zpdcFSP1nPaQHgV6E476yylTYbVfmu0W24RDOVzkN-FT2VHLr5W5CteczcTdGlmOpMusOVD5swC_6xqs4Y8inZPpzil_ag99iM-s0-_oncO_51GiEjYq1kCMTvt37A6OTpXTRf24MGBy9uiNxXv--7aTaeyH_Iug/w206-h640/Valkryies-3.JPG" width="206" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">In 1913 Josaphare submitted an article to <i>Harper's Weekly</i> called "Life in Furnished Rooms." Not a poem, Josaphare had reverted to writing prose when it suited him:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAPN6af19nqcspvcXf8ensxn8I8nBP32j0MWT5x3ki6VnV28Pl92XsyiUbcWKyTLFnhzWXhRow71gXXYeZDZQMptZG-fTPPtdxHmJrwk-gWURiq6Y-KhT6XZwmxCldwE26D_FJZei4K3GWLG1364sMCwaaQCSjRia8YZt1LrKCTSXhPlUU23LH6ZtkXA/s1051/NB%20State%20Journal%2027%20Mar%201913.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1051" data-original-width="465" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAPN6af19nqcspvcXf8ensxn8I8nBP32j0MWT5x3ki6VnV28Pl92XsyiUbcWKyTLFnhzWXhRow71gXXYeZDZQMptZG-fTPPtdxHmJrwk-gWURiq6Y-KhT6XZwmxCldwE26D_FJZei4K3GWLG1364sMCwaaQCSjRia8YZt1LrKCTSXhPlUU23LH6ZtkXA/w284-h640/NB%20State%20Journal%2027%20Mar%201913.JPG" width="284" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">In 1916, he drew the cover for his friend Sarah Williamson's "A California Cook Book."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-p_RNu5XlThqhJ8HfdXDZZF1fZ11QMUWuSWW0HWXtbVSFXDXNFxH_TKvlD5b0oWscMINnHWwwDCJaPDplHby_8nAwskPmsbJKHtQ9e8DePt-42pctLuvtlnpArzfubbkG6F2EBAz0d-EAEQjNyldHNVTp9ib63XHJG1FYqEZvF08uubY8ybrOKhrvQ/s1280/1916.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="709" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-p_RNu5XlThqhJ8HfdXDZZF1fZ11QMUWuSWW0HWXtbVSFXDXNFxH_TKvlD5b0oWscMINnHWwwDCJaPDplHby_8nAwskPmsbJKHtQ9e8DePt-42pctLuvtlnpArzfubbkG6F2EBAz0d-EAEQjNyldHNVTp9ib63XHJG1FYqEZvF08uubY8ybrOKhrvQ/w354-h640/1916.jpg" width="354" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Early in 1918, Josaphare submitted one of his paintings called "They Shall Not Pass" to be displayed at an exhibition of art at the Palace of Fine Arts in San Francisco. When it was rejected, he fired back with a letter (a copy of which Lionel submitted to the newspapers) to director Nilsen J. Laurvik accusing the exhibition of bias - specifically Hungarian bias. It seems that some of the exhibit space had been given over to an exhibition of Hungarian paintings and Josaphare felt the Hungarian canvasses were taking up exhibition space that rightfully belonged to San Francisco artists. Unfortunately I was unable to dig up a copy of "They Shall Not Pass." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The <i>Oakland Tribune</i> referred to this brouhaha in their May 1, 1918 issue:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6goNuxf7MjOg-HOPk4Eq4Sjk0Urp5bg_Qy_g0QynHHshuCWQkSYnJwcD3mjduGN5bJQ3al-NAB8YR_x5hE3Tu4FKgKPvXAdt-A951UG8yiUI8lF0stdof57S8v6U17tMPVoALWLzjoLzw8h9XRqNmUWB9IddNtiH1-nbq2KPgYj1ZCOBWLKQ8s4BrlA/s356/Oakland%20tribune%2001%20MAy%201918.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="356" data-original-width="245" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6goNuxf7MjOg-HOPk4Eq4Sjk0Urp5bg_Qy_g0QynHHshuCWQkSYnJwcD3mjduGN5bJQ3al-NAB8YR_x5hE3Tu4FKgKPvXAdt-A951UG8yiUI8lF0stdof57S8v6U17tMPVoALWLzjoLzw8h9XRqNmUWB9IddNtiH1-nbq2KPgYj1ZCOBWLKQ8s4BrlA/w440-h640/Oakland%20tribune%2001%20MAy%201918.JPG" width="440" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">It appears that Lionel Josaphare had a large dose of the "artistic temperament" we have heard so much about. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">On September 12, 1918, Lionel Joseph registered for the Draft, as all men between the ages of 18 and 45 were required to do:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqybSMnoY4NoIO5u1lMcmYthSlU0pgQBXwSUhfLQhQB1ozNDIysQrOux2cvA9-RBzmEZ-3UyXMDcsqQivfthsTLrxFSiq79J4gKW5ookXi_w-z0-W1gworHLstEPoR9w_NOMgHdmtCemHYFDTyWuHHfOEAV8v4vZnKWZJ_0F5sA8SFbq17NCunxoKGnQ/s487/1918-1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="487" data-original-width="374" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqybSMnoY4NoIO5u1lMcmYthSlU0pgQBXwSUhfLQhQB1ozNDIysQrOux2cvA9-RBzmEZ-3UyXMDcsqQivfthsTLrxFSiq79J4gKW5ookXi_w-z0-W1gworHLstEPoR9w_NOMgHdmtCemHYFDTyWuHHfOEAV8v4vZnKWZJ_0F5sA8SFbq17NCunxoKGnQ/w492-h640/1918-1.JPG" width="492" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7MxKohfBwiB3CXyVmW8YnWXnFBkC4_gn2y3heikrWNzW17PKGJ4cmPHRu0A_jX2iJhUitoR5XF6scb4MnDWwyz965yE_Km3RauhwhJRd-2BHCw0axgM-b1vYmAGruLgdbch6_cYZeK4G-waIzZ_Hujo8ONjr7VQpjL3sx0NUbzE8t8ni5Tq6eIcJILQ/s491/1918-2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="491" data-original-width="369" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7MxKohfBwiB3CXyVmW8YnWXnFBkC4_gn2y3heikrWNzW17PKGJ4cmPHRu0A_jX2iJhUitoR5XF6scb4MnDWwyz965yE_Km3RauhwhJRd-2BHCw0axgM-b1vYmAGruLgdbch6_cYZeK4G-waIzZ_Hujo8ONjr7VQpjL3sx0NUbzE8t8ni5Tq6eIcJILQ/w480-h640/1918-2.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">He said his name was "Lionel Joseph Josaphare," and that he lived at 936 Leavenworth in San Francisco:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJQ1wNujGgN8CJQw4Q1m7qxvRhntxd4ZV_o6Z7R11v2LZy_Y89ZX241UBHqyxxwLERgFJcyQWQ5re-mCkHyZHnBELMMpKiB700WC5RWjrJg3DwcUBqoGIVY_-Dsu2UOXDCo4E_1cG7YsUMonToWka8Y52G5ncNgoiy5HNkDD419kQDo8ua99eEW9lIEA/s766/936%20Leavenworth.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="766" data-original-width="442" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJQ1wNujGgN8CJQw4Q1m7qxvRhntxd4ZV_o6Z7R11v2LZy_Y89ZX241UBHqyxxwLERgFJcyQWQ5re-mCkHyZHnBELMMpKiB700WC5RWjrJg3DwcUBqoGIVY_-Dsu2UOXDCo4E_1cG7YsUMonToWka8Y52G5ncNgoiy5HNkDD419kQDo8ua99eEW9lIEA/w370-h640/936%20Leavenworth.JPG" width="370" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">936 Leavenworth Street, San Francisco</td></tr></tbody></table><br />He listed his job as "Compilor" for Baker & Hamilton at 7th & Townsend in San Francisco. The building (which was built in 1905 and survived the 1906 earthquake and fire) still stands:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTGTzmHjpHrOo4urZlGkMAVVCLhngCmbYhVlBuSuD1o_jQliuPoJK-_o6V-EDSh4MThy0mdgPSlqKybbaDg-fp7HPg20TteBFuTWX1Jd2Nmrn2FbdJ3hsIirsT5mSUR1p3pMxY0WK3K3sd-g6pvXbSoUdE58a5y9W1hTs1At4LLHhDM43sBXjxh5ae0Q/s552/Baker%20and%20Hamilton.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="374" data-original-width="552" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTGTzmHjpHrOo4urZlGkMAVVCLhngCmbYhVlBuSuD1o_jQliuPoJK-_o6V-EDSh4MThy0mdgPSlqKybbaDg-fp7HPg20TteBFuTWX1Jd2Nmrn2FbdJ3hsIirsT5mSUR1p3pMxY0WK3K3sd-g6pvXbSoUdE58a5y9W1hTs1At4LLHhDM43sBXjxh5ae0Q/w640-h434/Baker%20and%20Hamilton.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Baker and Hamilton was a hardware and steel company. Lionel's nearest relative was his mother, who lived at the same address as he did.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Sadly, Lionel's father, Isaac Charles Joseph died September 26, 1919 from chronic interstitial nephritis (kidney disease). He was sixty-six years old. Isaac Joseph was a Mason, so when his health began to deteriorate his family checked him into the Masonic Home for the Aged in Decoto, California.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoW3Sj-7pc7K1GZ4-tVQPWCy3kx7bwEUFYuwJx1YXqEi6us6q4nhHxKPaOjvNp9vxVI0zQjAUFjtvroIgoDIACsO6-MmcFVtqvCeFwnL1RQbqbc7x91Ud8vHhq-YQ_THHJqIPjbqC1hf82TrfYqtat_0fNZ_-_qqJ4-IPcnYYtGWkIqAANRhru8Lk8A/s1280/Masocic%20Home%20Decoto.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="807" data-original-width="1280" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoW3Sj-7pc7K1GZ4-tVQPWCy3kx7bwEUFYuwJx1YXqEi6us6q4nhHxKPaOjvNp9vxVI0zQjAUFjtvroIgoDIACsO6-MmcFVtqvCeFwnL1RQbqbc7x91Ud8vHhq-YQ_THHJqIPjbqC1hf82TrfYqtat_0fNZ_-_qqJ4-IPcnYYtGWkIqAANRhru8Lk8A/w640-h404/Masocic%20Home%20Decoto.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Masonic Home for the Aged, Decoto, California</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Here is his Death Notice from the <i>San Francisco Chronicle</i> from September 28, 1919:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKDp4CMZhr1KY9XmgobizvylX1k62K3ar6zA9d47-RuxaJ2-SBsWyuJ-w1AOZnA9D9l90U3jDUSDtxN5TW11utKvLfuMmj6PHIDQ6gIc-PLAOikV7Hqkjp5QwpOUDoytIlv35O_PE_YPjmofCzEcOOT-L7ICr43t40lzHLBDWSxz3rr8HqmoXTgB6kHQ/s651/Joseph,%20Isaac%20Death%20Notice%20Chronicle%2028%20Sep%201919.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="260" data-original-width="651" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKDp4CMZhr1KY9XmgobizvylX1k62K3ar6zA9d47-RuxaJ2-SBsWyuJ-w1AOZnA9D9l90U3jDUSDtxN5TW11utKvLfuMmj6PHIDQ6gIc-PLAOikV7Hqkjp5QwpOUDoytIlv35O_PE_YPjmofCzEcOOT-L7ICr43t40lzHLBDWSxz3rr8HqmoXTgB6kHQ/w640-h256/Joseph,%20Isaac%20Death%20Notice%20Chronicle%2028%20Sep%201919.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">He was buried September 28, 1919 in the Hills of Eternity Memorial Park - Congregation Sherith Israel in Colma, California. He was originally buried in Plot O, Sec. 4, Lot 35, Row 2 but was moved to Plot C, Sec. 3, Lot E1/2 7, Row 2 on May 8, 1920 after his wife died so they could be buried together. </div> </div>The 1920 US Census for Lionel Josaphare was conducted January 3, 1920. It shows Lionel and his mother living at 139 Grand Avenue in Oakland, California. A large office building occupies that spot today. Lionel's sister Frances had married Louis A. G. (Guy) Pocock in 1913 and Isaac had died in 1919 so the family was now reduced to Lionel and his mother.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Carrie Joseph reported that she was fifty-five years old and a widow with no occupation. Lionel reported that he was thirty-five years old, single, and a "Writer for a Magazine."</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Caroline Bernard Joseph died May 3, 1920 in Oakland. She was sixty-one years old, so she must have been fibbing when four months earlier she told the census taker that she was fifty-five. Her Death Record shows her as fifty-eight so maybe they decided to split the difference. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She is buried beside her husband in the Hills of Eternity Memorial Park - Congregation Sherith Israel in Colma, California, in Plot C, Sec. 3, Lot E1/2 7, Row 2. Here is their tombstone:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1088" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgolyr3zRdjHZAeVQd8OBK5Hd3P32BfHOcNtKpBe5H5SQL12gduvrCixukFT2lO6XExG3sQ727iQ_NeAFBfcvMTdZNa0OdBCM2avKPHIUr4UoM420gIHrxDwmQgTKR-VEWuFCpmwDpeLZ6Iqokx8YQZPUoZvY3j1VAR_TKFEeXU3HOckDua752CU4eecg/w602-h640/Joseph,%20Caroline-Isaac.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="602" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photo courtesy Find a Grave volunteer FOIA</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Lionel Josaphare published his last book "Christopher' in 1921. It is a play in blank verse in five acts and 71 pages.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCsiDETB4s60HDyDEPSgdeGI5mncnQq3MwDpiU7JjAf8b9qYFkZo6ht193c_F4Zzlo47WZemr-5nMYTQ4jl9DpAVDe4EeVT6RjdC04K2jFQyO2HSy8X6UwNqiGXDyX1vzyvPiVh5djzMwliWwvrTUXF3kzezMfrVSdBO7cz2Tr3OZghi3kz_NVRBIkZA/s513/Christopher.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="513" data-original-width="346" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCsiDETB4s60HDyDEPSgdeGI5mncnQq3MwDpiU7JjAf8b9qYFkZo6ht193c_F4Zzlo47WZemr-5nMYTQ4jl9DpAVDe4EeVT6RjdC04K2jFQyO2HSy8X6UwNqiGXDyX1vzyvPiVh5djzMwliWwvrTUXF3kzezMfrVSdBO7cz2Tr3OZghi3kz_NVRBIkZA/w432-h640/Christopher.JPG" width="432" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWx-gQRaV5fm4BsjqLwUcK16FhS1lEexcWIMa1rPJjPbdk2Xcw4sRakCFfPXqPmnssGvL0CyhgxDqAbvYMd6ywE5_jDmlHbPJjjfQ9wJtf7rPG1JO-W7I0j_tw2-0IUQj27GQ9ZTF3upgxYePFa7Rhls0xQ1PpWYFsnuyuUz5UN9vXnkiO3mb6QfPNBg/s504/Christopher-2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="504" data-original-width="362" height="606" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWx-gQRaV5fm4BsjqLwUcK16FhS1lEexcWIMa1rPJjPbdk2Xcw4sRakCFfPXqPmnssGvL0CyhgxDqAbvYMd6ywE5_jDmlHbPJjjfQ9wJtf7rPG1JO-W7I0j_tw2-0IUQj27GQ9ZTF3upgxYePFa7Rhls0xQ1PpWYFsnuyuUz5UN9vXnkiO3mb6QfPNBg/w435-h606/Christopher-2.JPG" width="435" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcYZW3gZQpAccxF1opaW22rwB7vDStXgWquaYiWN5JxtZTwJB6c4cfPdeh-01l4rKJXcF3ltncV-Z7pyIqvKF-DP1DoGJsKoztOwjKvUfwgb1eqg4-OrGEBS03gF2UCOOLuZ4kEU7-cWfCDyfFVQ6bW18QN-P2T5lOSCGwOeJXlG2Aa20SWrd0uBF7rg/s505/Christopher-3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="505" data-original-width="340" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcYZW3gZQpAccxF1opaW22rwB7vDStXgWquaYiWN5JxtZTwJB6c4cfPdeh-01l4rKJXcF3ltncV-Z7pyIqvKF-DP1DoGJsKoztOwjKvUfwgb1eqg4-OrGEBS03gF2UCOOLuZ4kEU7-cWfCDyfFVQ6bW18QN-P2T5lOSCGwOeJXlG2Aa20SWrd0uBF7rg/w430-h640/Christopher-3.JPG" width="430" /></a></div><br /> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Reviews were mostly favorable as was this one from the <i>Oakland Tribune</i> of July 03, 1921:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ4WOsI1hxPGm_iLT3KHPd3kOvnuJcOwfCzjmBCO8EwoJjyMbsMb6HHvptUyX6siRxQ6VMg44vFEaat_DIXhYhob8F0Jg2COGA82waGWQk2PU-BwNYWbEZarOqx8lhdWwGDBGAtG35B_5DS707m_OOKXr9qb9TTIsma1mk-DIC8KhlbIQuLxwiEGepKA/s660/Christopher%20Review.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="660" data-original-width="461" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ4WOsI1hxPGm_iLT3KHPd3kOvnuJcOwfCzjmBCO8EwoJjyMbsMb6HHvptUyX6siRxQ6VMg44vFEaat_DIXhYhob8F0Jg2COGA82waGWQk2PU-BwNYWbEZarOqx8lhdWwGDBGAtG35B_5DS707m_OOKXr9qb9TTIsma1mk-DIC8KhlbIQuLxwiEGepKA/w448-h640/Christopher%20Review.JPG" width="448" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">By 1927 Lionel Josaphare had moved back to San Francisco - to 1455 Franklin. An automobile repair business occupies that spot today. Lionel registered to vote but declined to specify his party affiliation. He listed his occupation as "Painter."</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In late 1929/early 1930, Josaphare was involved in trying to establish a Bohemian artists' colony on land near Carmel, California. The effort was unsuccessful, and newspapers reported that Josaphare was the only artist involved who never visited the site. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I was unable to find Lionel Joseph in the 1930 US Census. Sometime in the early 1930s Lionel moved to a rooming house at 1350 Franklin in San Francisco. A modern apartment building occupies that spot today. His popularity had waned over the years and as the country entered the Great Depression, those desiring to live a "Bohemian Lifestyle" were quickly replaced by those just struggling to survive. A depression meant that people had little money for books, and even less for books of poetry.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lionel Joseph died in San Francisco on June 2, 1933. He was fifty-seven years old. We know quite a bit about the circumstances thanks to the records of the San Francisco Coroner's Register available on Family Search and the records of Halsted and Company Funeral Directors available on ancestry.com.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxVi-slaTXzHSsV3JV-rTiI6XJnxkiMQctzEwqu0_DP6R_8NMdGCI6s2LLArC8MJjCAkLnXUKwTT2j6lOPE5OO1B9SQAv1Msc3p-sCziCz2TJ_x3DixZPvDbSyiC7tawdjb03pe5eAZd6RrQuon_f1sX9sPeQaH7llFelgn_aykjU6_Dbc0XIb3hY5FA/s2169/sfmrviewerimage%20(1).jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1711" data-original-width="2169" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxVi-slaTXzHSsV3JV-rTiI6XJnxkiMQctzEwqu0_DP6R_8NMdGCI6s2LLArC8MJjCAkLnXUKwTT2j6lOPE5OO1B9SQAv1Msc3p-sCziCz2TJ_x3DixZPvDbSyiC7tawdjb03pe5eAZd6RrQuon_f1sX9sPeQaH7llFelgn_aykjU6_Dbc0XIb3hY5FA/w640-h504/sfmrviewerimage%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ7O6zdAnXnBP6d7-rVmW83dD5hRJbx5tZ2Zx9sWG4bK1N-3vtm30ZMRUgjw2QJFfP6Mmvm-CPrJHH87NbWctKwel3_MUPtuLlyYmITuCTViRGgj1zVRGYuE5uQ-Lrh73pYDL1gdqXbvN7gNGCdclJzU_dJm4R7XLEdju9HvKhvbWnDs_9Kg0CY_sn3w/s511/Page%202%20-%20Copy.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="478" data-original-width="511" height="598" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ7O6zdAnXnBP6d7-rVmW83dD5hRJbx5tZ2Zx9sWG4bK1N-3vtm30ZMRUgjw2QJFfP6Mmvm-CPrJHH87NbWctKwel3_MUPtuLlyYmITuCTViRGgj1zVRGYuE5uQ-Lrh73pYDL1gdqXbvN7gNGCdclJzU_dJm4R7XLEdju9HvKhvbWnDs_9Kg0CY_sn3w/w640-h598/Page%202%20-%20Copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">San Francisco Coroner's Register</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwbEnP-e3o_iIDKE7D6tgFg03e5CgIpF47T-n_lwu_v9Ugp7hT5xgQqA4OJsZklMLGIpRqttRdKreUrl_VWTLKopwoYkj0OQ_mrKtG6v3TMZNkk4Wv5BAbgXOqLr1Xqn-QvzqhcG_ALyib1p1Pwjg0KE32CW0vT606nyCykAfoPPyxvjqlHJ231BOC_Q/s1987/Halsted%20&%20Co%20Funeral%20Record.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1580" data-original-width="1987" height="523" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwbEnP-e3o_iIDKE7D6tgFg03e5CgIpF47T-n_lwu_v9Ugp7hT5xgQqA4OJsZklMLGIpRqttRdKreUrl_VWTLKopwoYkj0OQ_mrKtG6v3TMZNkk4Wv5BAbgXOqLr1Xqn-QvzqhcG_ALyib1p1Pwjg0KE32CW0vT606nyCykAfoPPyxvjqlHJ231BOC_Q/w659-h523/Halsted%20&%20Co%20Funeral%20Record.jpg" width="659" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Halsted & Co. Funeral Record<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">June 2, 1933 was a Friday. Lionel Joseph was in his room at 1350 Franklin Street. Interestingly all the records refer to him by his real name of Lionel Joseph, and not his artistic name of Lionel Josaphare. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">According to the History of Case, "(Lionel Joseph) had been suffering from heart and stomach trouble for some time and was found by Cyril Truscott dead in bed in his room of #11 of #1350 Franklin Street, partially dressed, Supposed Natural Causes." The Time of Death was indicated as 5:15 PM. The hospital said it was informed at 5:23 (probably when the ambulance arrived). By 6:35 PM the body was in the morgue, and it was released to the undertaker (Halsted & Co. ) at 12:03 AM the next morning. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The witnesses to the aftermath of the death were neighbors Ellen Owen, Cyril Truscott, brother-in-law H. F. Flinn and Officer A. G. Steffen of the San Francisco Police Department.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There was an autopsy done on June 3, 1933 by Sherman Leland, MD of the San Francisco Coroner's Office. He reported that Lionel Joseph had died from luetic aortitis causing a ruptured aneurism of the right iliac artery. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There was an Inquest into the death of Lionel Joseph on June 20, 1933. They determined based on the autopsy and other factors that the Cause of Death was "Natural Causes."</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Here is his Death Notice from the <i>San Francisco Examiner</i>, June 4, 1933:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-c3cOm7qENf--50WBNOJNuPK7CF3h6_Ui1mF99r2HBVsJBldkAgpZunz_MZTkBbONhNc68Rx7ZeQiz2dJAm48PkTlpqw9JKLDzfQN8luuObYRbln4FQ1_8qtN1Pa43mDPZ1h0iQN3WKvzNNvPHsnHgZ-ri9XgTr31m9lPpdsPlv1vMLJOhusc9PFAMw/s701/Examiner%2004%20Jun%201933.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="216" data-original-width="701" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-c3cOm7qENf--50WBNOJNuPK7CF3h6_Ui1mF99r2HBVsJBldkAgpZunz_MZTkBbONhNc68Rx7ZeQiz2dJAm48PkTlpqw9JKLDzfQN8luuObYRbln4FQ1_8qtN1Pa43mDPZ1h0iQN3WKvzNNvPHsnHgZ-ri9XgTr31m9lPpdsPlv1vMLJOhusc9PFAMw/w640-h198/Examiner%2004%20Jun%201933.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There was a funeral held for Lionel on Sunday June 4, 1933 at 11:00 AM in the chapel of Halsted & Co. Undertakers, 1123 Sutter Street in San Francisco. Amazingly the building is still there (for now):</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSThp9Bz0zkQFBhbXANf3JZ-5RWmyAbi0cX1rZubxHM2Q_GNRa1260p01fRClXmU-ja72XyZBG4LhqKGkmrmFbNSwlt0t8m0r_NZw1sGPkyM5VfL0WfuLEXW2aGlmlA1qioQDYx_HXWso_Pdc3mZ2l-_K-q2kgOiZKT4q7diVl_aMHha717-UVrXwB_A/s527/halsted.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="493" data-original-width="527" height="598" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSThp9Bz0zkQFBhbXANf3JZ-5RWmyAbi0cX1rZubxHM2Q_GNRa1260p01fRClXmU-ja72XyZBG4LhqKGkmrmFbNSwlt0t8m0r_NZw1sGPkyM5VfL0WfuLEXW2aGlmlA1qioQDYx_HXWso_Pdc3mZ2l-_K-q2kgOiZKT4q7diVl_aMHha717-UVrXwB_A/w640-h598/halsted.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Halsted & Co. Funeral Home, San Francisco</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The officiant for the funeral was the family's rabbi Dr. Elliot M. Burstein. I wonder how many (if any) of Lionel's poems were read at his funeral.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The next day, June 5, 1933, Lionel Joseph was cremated at Cypress Lawn in Colma, California. After cremation, Lionel's remains were interred with his parents at the Hills of Eternity Memorial Park in Colma, Plot C, Sec. 3, S 1/2, E 1/2 of 7. Here is the family monument. Lionel's name has not been added:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb3pHZZsK7GvNGKr31SQI5oH2xIMD6iAYCHyKhoOldndq_kpdr8LZStsMuTeaunfAcWwwYFnJleJH0f-ze9kRQgy1xTidRGRAzG7-JM_WmXZzAAA8jDOCjslcohn17nA5LyS6g-JqSy_uNApYFfJBcRZNFevdxJRIR4MfCOqw71M0cYGmXjkoCOhs17A/s1088/Joseph,%20Caroline-Isaac.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1088" data-original-width="1024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb3pHZZsK7GvNGKr31SQI5oH2xIMD6iAYCHyKhoOldndq_kpdr8LZStsMuTeaunfAcWwwYFnJleJH0f-ze9kRQgy1xTidRGRAzG7-JM_WmXZzAAA8jDOCjslcohn17nA5LyS6g-JqSy_uNApYFfJBcRZNFevdxJRIR4MfCOqw71M0cYGmXjkoCOhs17A/w376-h400/Joseph,%20Caroline-Isaac.jpg" width="376" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>The preparation of the body, cremation, funeral and interment cost $181.00 broken out as follows:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Casket #20<span> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span>$<span> </span><span> </span>47.00</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span></span><span>Preservation of Remains <span> </span><span> <span> </span>50.00</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span>San Francisco Tax<span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> 3.00</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span>Hearse to Cemetery<span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> <span> </span><span> </span>1</span><span>5.00</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Limousine</span><span> to Parlors <span> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> 10.00</span> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span>Cremation<span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> 50.00</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span>Funeral Notices </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span>(Chronicle, Examiner) <u> </u><u><span> </span><span> 6.00</span> </u> </span><span> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> $ 181.00</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Billed June 11, 1933 to Mr. H. F. Flinn, 44 Cornwall Street, San Francisco.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgynZ5hKwtBrmWeHnRod8sQt3J0Pkbp3Soxa9GFN19QsgsAcrxU9OymmN-AtjVNpL7uCeJY8PhEGTmtifHQeO_2vnehv8Vf8WCWVvZKzU93GqkbluTdpncwx4E0z6VOfCz_CH7LzdCXHvbthJnv0la01rQQTD1P0U3OM4gasLiLaMf3rfiIM4YEAr42YQ/s679/Lionel%20Josephare.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="679" data-original-width="497" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgynZ5hKwtBrmWeHnRod8sQt3J0Pkbp3Soxa9GFN19QsgsAcrxU9OymmN-AtjVNpL7uCeJY8PhEGTmtifHQeO_2vnehv8Vf8WCWVvZKzU93GqkbluTdpncwx4E0z6VOfCz_CH7LzdCXHvbthJnv0la01rQQTD1P0U3OM4gasLiLaMf3rfiIM4YEAr42YQ/w468-h640/Lionel%20Josephare.jpg" width="468" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lionel Joseph Josaphare - he cut a new highway through the forests of literature. May he rest in peace.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><b><br /></b></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><b><br /></b></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><b>The rest of the story</b>:</i> Lionel's wife, Maud Coan Josaphare became a well-known writer and arts educator, teaching art at Lakeview High School in Chicago. I found no record that she and Lionel ever divorced and neither remarried. There is an entry about her on Wikipedia:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maud_Coan_Josaphare">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maud_Coan_Josaphare</a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Maud died in Chicago on June 25, 1935 and is buried in Graceland Cemetery, Section A - Lot: 57 & 58, Grave: 17.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQV3CaMbkrRg8xNSgABJV5HSQ6-5ekkyWUORbZgXdL71gh99SPXeXDvnNbYCG0YLx8qnxQNkR0X2JdtSmjMwwVfGAVRhfyrxEZyouL-FuiZKoSg9bTuYf8qvRnhuZ8IzP03SVUXBkW3Txq8EykQ1TwwPtzZttvQ1bOi1fRYOwyk9Perv0e1x4GRou7_Q/s2751/Josaphare,%20Maud%20(2).JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1659" data-original-width="2751" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQV3CaMbkrRg8xNSgABJV5HSQ6-5ekkyWUORbZgXdL71gh99SPXeXDvnNbYCG0YLx8qnxQNkR0X2JdtSmjMwwVfGAVRhfyrxEZyouL-FuiZKoSg9bTuYf8qvRnhuZ8IzP03SVUXBkW3Txq8EykQ1TwwPtzZttvQ1bOi1fRYOwyk9Perv0e1x4GRou7_Q/w640-h386/Josaphare,%20Maud%20(2).JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1221" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDTTjhDpzwKVCpRZXhTrYZ_cUoz6olM44L0Dpy3VmTJXq6FvYTiY5nSNkSFMKgbpN8LHCAuKJojA0qYr1hMUvTL2JjUGHzgbCpTk1jxyc4daGbeUzcwzyNQmPXDiZIm0_HojNleGE9ASRoX5H8vbT6sEbssIuBvhNm1wk8dChYBw4CNBnCVN9fqgvDJQ/w640-h458/Josaphare,%20Maud-2.JPG" width="640" /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lionel and Maud's daughter, Helen Blair Josaphare moved with her mother from Pennsylvania to Chicago, and ultimately to Los Angeles, California. Helen was married four times: first in 1926 to Frank Eugene Lowry, Jr. (1894-1951), second in 1934 to Ira F. Long; third in 1943 to Maurice David Reisman (1908-2000) and finally in 1951 to Nicholas J. Sidoti (1898-1971). Helen Blair Josaphare Lowry Long Reisman Sidoti died March 4, 1972 in Long Beach, California. The location of her grave is unknown. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>The Strange Case of Gertrude Joseph</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When I started working on the story of Lionel Joseph my research told me that his parents, Isaac Charles Joseph and Carrie Bernard Joseph had two children: Lionel, born in 1876 and Frances, born in 1886. All of a sudden in the 1900 US Census for the Joseph family there is an entry for another daughter, "Gertrude." The census said that Gertrude Joseph was born in California in October of 1873. This is unlikely because Isaac and Carrie didn't marry until 1875. Also, using Carrie Joseph's birth year of 1858, that means she was fifteen when Gertrude was born. These scenarios are possible but unlikely; however in the 1900 US Census Carrie did say that she had three children, and all three were still alive in 1900.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Further research uncovered that a Gertrude Helen Joseph married Bert Lyons (1881-1958) in 1908 prior to the birth of their son Jack Lyons (1908-1961) who was born on March 8. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The 1910 US Census shows Gertrude with Bert Lyons and son Jack in Alameda, California where Bert was a Candy Wholesaler. Gertrude and Bert were divorced sometime prior to October 21, 1916 when she married Hubert Francis Flinn in Stockton, California. At this time Jack Lyons started using the name Jack Flinn, although it is not known if he was ever officially adopted. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Gertrude Flinn and Hubert Flinn were divorced in 1919. The <i>San Francisco Recorder</i> newspaper reported that Hubert would be paying $31.25 per month alimony to Gertrude. This brings us up to Isaac Joseph's death on September 26, 1919. There is no mention of Gertrude in Isaac's Death Notice. The only offspring mentioned are Lionel and Frances now calling herself "Francesca" with the last name of Pocock. I was unable to find a Death Notice for Carrie Joseph when she died in 1920 to see who was listed. Was Gertrude not included in Isaac's Death Notice because she was divorced? Lionel was separated if not divorced and he was included. Was Gertrude omitted because she married someone who was not Jewish? Lionel's wife was a Presbyterian. I was not able to find any evidence that Frances' husband Guy Pocock was Jewish. Furthermore, there is no evidence that the Josephs were a particularly observant Jewish family.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Based on these findings I assumed that Gertrude was born sometime after Isaac and Carrie's wedding in 1875 and died before Isaac in 1919. I was wrong.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Coroner's Register entry for Lionel Joseph mentions that one of the witnesses was "Brother-in-Law H. F. Flinn of 44 Cornwall Street." He isn't Frances' husband - his name was Pocock. Checking the City Directory for 44 Cornwall Street I found Hubert F. Flinn and wife Gertrude Flinn. So, the elusive Gertrude did not die before Isaac in 1919 after all. Why then is she not mentioned in Isaac's Death Notice? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Hubert and Gertrude Flinn reconciled at some point because they were listed as husband and wife in the 1930 and 1940 US Census. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Hubert Francis Flinn died in San Francisco on August 9, 1948. Gertrude Helen Lyons Flinn died in San Francisco on November 17, 1946. Death records for each show them as having been interred in the Hills of Eternity Memorial Park, a Jewish Cemetery in Colma, California. However, neither is listed in the online records from Hills of Eternity, nor are they mentioned in the Jewish Online World Burial Registry. Hills of Eternity is the same cemetery where Gertrude's parents and brother Lionel are buried. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now you know as much about the elusive Gertrude Joseph as I do. Remember, genealogical research may answer many of your family lore questions but may leave others unanswered. That's what makes this so much fun!???! </div></span></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-81325554176417431492022-08-01T03:58:00.002-07:002022-08-01T03:58:56.339-07:00THE GREENWOOD INN, EVANSTON, ILLINOIS - Benjamin Bayless and his son, George Wood Bayless<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Last month I told you the story of a hotel that used to be on the northwest corner of Hinman Avenue and Greenwood Boulevard in Evanston, Illinois. The French House started out as exactly that - the home of businessman Orvis French and his family. After the Great Chicago Fire in October of 1871 French took displaced family and friends into his home. Inasmuch as his previous businesses were wiped out by the fire, he decided to expand his house and run it as a hotel on a permanent basis. French ultimately expanded The French House into a 125 room hotel and ran it to the delight of permanent and transient guests until March of 1892 when he sold The French House to Benjamin Bayless.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Before we look at the French House when it was run by Benjamin Bayless, and the change of name to the Greenwood Inn, let's first take a look at Benjamin Bayless. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Note: All throughout the records the family name was spelt both "Bayliss" and "Bayless." For consistency, I will use "Bayless."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Benjamin Wilhelm Bayless was born February 2, 1844 in Louisville, Kentucky. He was the first-born of Dr. George Wood Bayless (1817-1873) and Virginia LaFayette Browne (1824-1902). George and Virginia Bayless had nine children: Benjamin Wilhelm (1844-1920), Mary Browne/Mrs. Sidney Hobbs (1846-1926), twins Sallie Gault (1847-1915) and Elizabeth Wood/Mrs. John O'Bannon (1847-1913), Martha Bullitt/Mrs. Chas. Boteler (1849-1879), Maria Duren/Mrs. George Lindenberger (1850-1909), George Wood (1852-1912), Virginia (1858-1860), and Esther Shephard/Mrs. Frederick Earle French (1854-1926). George Wood Bayless tried his hand at farming but ended up a well-respected physician. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Benjamin Bayless makes his first appearance in the 1850 US Census. The family was living in Weston Township, Platte County, Missouri. The family consisted of: George W. Bayless (33 years old), Virginia (25), Benjamin (6), Mary (4), Elizabeth (3), Sallie (3) and Martha (1). George Bayless was not yet a doctor; he reported his occupation as "Farmer." He also told the census taker his farm was worth $15,000.00 ($556,000 today).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">By the time of the 1860 US Census, the Bayless family had moved back to Kentucky, and George Bayless was now a Doctor. The family consisted of: George W. Bayless (43 years old), wife Virginia (35), Benjamin (17), Mary (15), Sally (13) and Elizabeth (13) - labelled as "Twins" on the census form, Martha (11), Maria (9), and George (8). In addition George's mother Elizabeth (79) was living with the family and also Elizabeth Scrugham (19) a Seamstress. George Bayless was doing quite well financially. He said he had real estate worth $15,000 ($523,000 today) and personalty worth $30,000 ($1,045,000 today). Benjamin is listed on the form as a "Clerk."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1870 US Census finds the Bayless Family living in the 7th Ward of Louisville, Kentucky, and twenty-seven year old Benjamin still living with his parents. The family consisted of: G. W. (53 years old), Virginia (45), Benjamin (27), Sally (23) , Martha (21), Mariah (20), George (18), and Esther (6). In addition, the family had four people living with them; three housekeepers and a cook. Benjamin is listed as a "Merchant," with personalty of $3,000 ($66,000 today). Benjamin's father Dr. Bayless reported real estate of $28,000 ($606,000) and personalty of $25,000 ($552,000 today).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On October 20, 1870, Benjamin Bayless married Wilhelmine Kiameche Crawford (1848-1878) in Louisville. The groom was twenty-six; the bride was twenty-two. Benjamin and Wilhelmine had four children: Charles Thomas (1871-1906), Kiameche Crawford (1873-1873), George Wood (1875-1955) and Wilhelmine (1878-1952). Wilhelmine the daughter was born March 12, 1878 and her mother died March 22, 1878 probably as a result of complic</span><span style="font-size: medium;">ations</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">from childbirth. In those days "complications from childbirth" was the leading cause of death for women. They would get an infection from giving birth and their bodies were too weak to fight off the infection in the era before anti-biotics.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Wilhelmine Bayless was buried in the Bayless plot at Cave Hill Cemetery in Louisville (Section B, Lot 11):</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2k7G0kZjCDFnuwyp7raUKnAqxtnvSkPCxaduOx_m8afLXh7nbhTCqtqskK6GPRl8qUo-_0DVB6SNGIXoWT_EgNSsjxbQlMhrHF2c12Mf9Y2yN_E7f6tQsNiezk_dZiA4SNH2zWdXvOf4lbGeGB_XaHt5LJDG3IVkf399DhZunEZvwPiirzGWmjcc_kA/s782/Wilhelmine-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="782" data-original-width="574" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2k7G0kZjCDFnuwyp7raUKnAqxtnvSkPCxaduOx_m8afLXh7nbhTCqtqskK6GPRl8qUo-_0DVB6SNGIXoWT_EgNSsjxbQlMhrHF2c12Mf9Y2yN_E7f6tQsNiezk_dZiA4SNH2zWdXvOf4lbGeGB_XaHt5LJDG3IVkf399DhZunEZvwPiirzGWmjcc_kA/w470-h640/Wilhelmine-1.jpg" width="470" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photo courtesy of Find a Grave volunteer babs</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="786" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRyDTbVkqpoEC1Hf7T88_ndgsLcDmOpOyI3BaYRciimwHz7XUJoFArHzEjezpXh4VVJLPFPfKd15K6K9__wlbcKXV38erwvluE8JzqMURWjn-HjwTOvEHCu_NoJRd4rBRhDde7wLOsMkGQJLVl7uQ2ymFal_ybM7ksFuyOJ3jyMwTXM_9YHJlXe6haMw/w640-h472/Wilhelmine-2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photo courtesy of Find a Grave volunteer babs</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The 1880 US Census shows Benjamin Bayless living with his three children at 551 Third Street in Louisville, Kentucky. An office building occupies that space today. The family consisted of Benjamin (38 years old), children Charles (8), George (5) and Wilhelmine (2). In addition, also living with them was Benjamin's mother-in-law Katherine Crawford, and a nurse, a cook and a housekeeper. Benjamin was listed as an "Importer."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Although Benjamin Bayless started his business career selling Insurance, ultimately he started a company called Bayless Bros. & Co. in Louisville. Bayless Bros. & Co. became very successful by importing and selling fine china, glassware and queensware, and also made Benjamin Bayless a wealthy man. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Several times in early 1889 Illinois newspapers reported that Benjamin Bayless and some of his associates came to Illinois from Kentucky looking for investment opportunities. They visited Decatur, Illinois several times as reported by the Decatur Weekly Republican on May 02, 1889:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvVrxxjGUDCPCjHF3Cj4sjRsbhrB5hyoaNG8aFxFB5CjAq5h20-ZuYop8XpBl0Ei9tuOW0WukOrcZXNJbFCeI2BJNUdnk7StA_nAgLDFbr2bix0dzHgu-PkVAj795UzrCwYDWDafmny9TTThU0XTOnZeAzkauh1867fpSAzV9ANd1lf6eglKYRQqodwg/s374/Decatur.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="374" data-original-width="209" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvVrxxjGUDCPCjHF3Cj4sjRsbhrB5hyoaNG8aFxFB5CjAq5h20-ZuYop8XpBl0Ei9tuOW0WukOrcZXNJbFCeI2BJNUdnk7StA_nAgLDFbr2bix0dzHgu-PkVAj795UzrCwYDWDafmny9TTThU0XTOnZeAzkauh1867fpSAzV9ANd1lf6eglKYRQqodwg/w358-h640/Decatur.JPG" width="358" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On September 18, 1889, Benjamin Bayless married Laura Donelson (1864-1896) in Chicago. The groom was forty-five; the bride was twenty-five. Here's how the Chicago Tribune reported it in their September 22, 1989 editions:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7k3WMVKGY9UCagW8hT0F2hRyGT17d2zY-ivm0Ncx3QcQU3uhc8pzw2R5E7pMXE8enroOmp1Gb6znkXfM7-UbNjCUp2S7vYOBktNeu6cFs9uZM6oqEUuXu1wYejf1K9lGxYiK5H29D7g5i0TGOHnjFL9RpGXYDNRVIzNJXIfSTD8RoNK_MLT8ZqIWilw/s975/Donelson.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="471" data-original-width="975" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7k3WMVKGY9UCagW8hT0F2hRyGT17d2zY-ivm0Ncx3QcQU3uhc8pzw2R5E7pMXE8enroOmp1Gb6znkXfM7-UbNjCUp2S7vYOBktNeu6cFs9uZM6oqEUuXu1wYejf1K9lGxYiK5H29D7g5i0TGOHnjFL9RpGXYDNRVIzNJXIfSTD8RoNK_MLT8ZqIWilw/w400-h194/Donelson.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Benjamin Bayless made numerous trips to Illinois to pursue business opportunities. Instead he found a bride for himself. But Bayless found his best business opportunity in a very roundabout way. Benjamin Bayless' daughter Wilhelmine married Orvis French's son Frederick (of the horse-drawn bus) on June 1, 1886 in Louisville. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">It is not beyond possibility that Orvis French might have mentioned at some point that he was thinking of selling the hotel. Frederick French would have known that his father-in-law was looking for business opportunities and may have brought the two parties together. We do know that it was a shock on March 26, 1892 when the sale of The French House was announced:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK4y7gY3Jny7mcqaH2MQU-s4Ht-XJ-yJIQ83P4pfTYQ6BdnEI46VKru6mhYyCIW1DJdhJwDIuqpe3VVnBSjoNASMRGqjK5ARBa2D0WC12hdNLvjEtqYHgOorQJc3-mDpg5v1oqXl8h9_RueEMrNTzOSHGZDJ1vfIX0_H1DIR_qDwkgN2IXfi3VRHfF5A/s852/26%20Mar%201892.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="497" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK4y7gY3Jny7mcqaH2MQU-s4Ht-XJ-yJIQ83P4pfTYQ6BdnEI46VKru6mhYyCIW1DJdhJwDIuqpe3VVnBSjoNASMRGqjK5ARBa2D0WC12hdNLvjEtqYHgOorQJc3-mDpg5v1oqXl8h9_RueEMrNTzOSHGZDJ1vfIX0_H1DIR_qDwkgN2IXfi3VRHfF5A/w374-h640/26%20Mar%201892.JPG" width="374" /></a></div><div style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After the sale had closed, and the French family had moved out, Benjamin Bayless made the decision to try to keep everything exactly as it had been when Orvis French ran the house. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Try as he might to keep this moving along on a even keel, sometimes it did not work out that way - as evidenced by the Chicago Tribune of December 26, 1895:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMmHwO1jWNL1M7Kr200xcwEKHHXIenvTGIbSGZ4q2dVs9MP80GU5MitUps08mRf6SK7thzBm_GYIxP-C-gH9Tq-4ZvBo5NjJ3-3uMo7yuBOerSVOdf-XozcqotIButqF-yYK-XqJq1s4OwF_L-yJxyMTj2BPwv0KczXKnnLqmOHPexdimTdUC1rgqEoQ/s1520/Insane.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1520" data-original-width="335" height="1586" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMmHwO1jWNL1M7Kr200xcwEKHHXIenvTGIbSGZ4q2dVs9MP80GU5MitUps08mRf6SK7thzBm_GYIxP-C-gH9Tq-4ZvBo5NjJ3-3uMo7yuBOerSVOdf-XozcqotIButqF-yYK-XqJq1s4OwF_L-yJxyMTj2BPwv0KczXKnnLqmOHPexdimTdUC1rgqEoQ/w352-h1586/Insane.JPG" width="352" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In early 1896, Benjamin Bayless felt that it was time for a change. He changed the name of The French House to The Greenwood Inn. Here is a photo of the hotel from that time:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-JjMgUYjKKArVf5UizSBUa9purOm8o14p3TVLC9tJF5IeON5L0MYe7ugPm-rK71FT9ZXPrijGKrzusJLSkSfBeidGQ4dK9pG7LgNzAYx-ACjPJDuCHUdPK5F49gQ7Qj7_DTyH5ELu7qCuEOAaJ-eiNzVZsQb0o_X-LsEdEHFb9wXFuTrm0sKnXzy0QQ/s1024/Greenwood%20Inn%20-%20Front.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="645" data-original-width="1024" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-JjMgUYjKKArVf5UizSBUa9purOm8o14p3TVLC9tJF5IeON5L0MYe7ugPm-rK71FT9ZXPrijGKrzusJLSkSfBeidGQ4dK9pG7LgNzAYx-ACjPJDuCHUdPK5F49gQ7Qj7_DTyH5ELu7qCuEOAaJ-eiNzVZsQb0o_X-LsEdEHFb9wXFuTrm0sKnXzy0QQ/w640-h404/Greenwood%20Inn%20-%20Front.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Unfortunately life got in the way, as it sometimes seems to. Bayless' second wife, Laura Donelson Bayless died on October 12, 1896 in Evanston. Here is her Death Notice from the Chicago Tribune from October 13, 1896:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="1172" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Rej5f4lgyq2wVHbCGiKsaz5HRL4YJfKvX99-kvQmAqsXHboh8jrlWiFfu-WEh-ZFy15jjmqAHAcGaKbdTsv_1gZOsr8TOyCCoOq9Bj0goMLtMFzW9t0DUAXVMvlrgg2kAXpW8Ty6FT9oe7nUAIFhEP-E2P6DPGYxVCn5rIKQdcDNXmO7LrcOSvjtlw/w640-h136/Bayless,%20Laura.JPG" width="640" /></div><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and here is her obituary from the Evanston News-Index of October 17, 1896:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhbpte7JMn_LOWSwJSTH1nPnhN91wE-BY607WeMTYSWhasAgqi_1WKc6Mf5Am3WPf11WOI0Wdh-4OfJ31sk2EpIyJNmaq0kIWFp66_0d3GYSVSVBn0KmKYB0bFb8D8wHAGye5-C1Khoe7CiwKKfgsSuJIUyiNfmwkzKV6pJHbqlVpqdfaGkVJtBdnJQ/s586/Bayless%20Obit%2010.17.1895.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="586" data-original-width="281" height="806" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhbpte7JMn_LOWSwJSTH1nPnhN91wE-BY607WeMTYSWhasAgqi_1WKc6Mf5Am3WPf11WOI0Wdh-4OfJ31sk2EpIyJNmaq0kIWFp66_0d3GYSVSVBn0KmKYB0bFb8D8wHAGye5-C1Khoe7CiwKKfgsSuJIUyiNfmwkzKV6pJHbqlVpqdfaGkVJtBdnJQ/w386-h806/Bayless%20Obit%2010.17.1895.JPG" width="386" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Laura Donelson Bayless was buried in the Bayless Family Plot in Cave Hill Cemetery, Louisville:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1BBx0Fj9HzelARhDc5PpNnKPQ08pCqjfbQKAPDmxzNZUbBxwX5LQiXc7fWO7_NceN6vtcIZJ4DevCroTcrFDo4P5_Aqk9dNKui95ul0w2UTd1c4l53lNtws5kUxLgJWCXt0QfPNkMUVNNeUo5MLkE0-AKmzOtEIWnURg6YZ4fmbNT4SEKc3Lko3E7CA/s551/Bayless,%20Laura%20Tombstone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="551" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1BBx0Fj9HzelARhDc5PpNnKPQ08pCqjfbQKAPDmxzNZUbBxwX5LQiXc7fWO7_NceN6vtcIZJ4DevCroTcrFDo4P5_Aqk9dNKui95ul0w2UTd1c4l53lNtws5kUxLgJWCXt0QfPNkMUVNNeUo5MLkE0-AKmzOtEIWnURg6YZ4fmbNT4SEKc3Lko3E7CA/w400-h314/Bayless,%20Laura%20Tombstone.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1900 US Census finds widower Benjamin Bayless and his family living in The Greenwood Inn. The family consisted of: Benjamin Bayless (56 years old), son George (25), daughter Wilhelmina (22), Benjamin's mother Virginia (75), brother-in-law Sidney Hobbs (59) sister Mary B. (52) and niece Virginia B. (25). There were also fourteen "Servants" who acted as cooks, maids, etc. In addition, on the day of the census, June 12, 1900 there were forty-two guests staying at The Greenwood Inn. The guests were Lawyers, Engineers, Private Secretaries, Auditors, etc. Definitely an "upper-class" crowd.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Benjamin reported that he was a Widower, that he was fifty-six years old, that the was the Owner of The Greenwood Inn, and that he owned it free-and-clear. He also said that he could read and write, and that he spoke English, as did all the staff and guests of the hotel. Here's another photo of The Greenwood Inn from that era:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9fM9B_Lhhmcx2pNvf9B7qrsX7FfP2Yfopln6a0-0SxE6QkuH2J1ysFDfXdkcmQ5pqXwiWc5JX0t48ETehjvS8q2ZIHxD7pr5X1MYMfoTzUY3nXULm3VWLg3QPIsAlw0q0xRB5Wc5sibKxP1FNnDSCzhqeCBxTA1BkOHIJvJB9n-W0zx9Icpr-JfJhMA/s835/Greenwood%20Inn%20Sepia.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="523" data-original-width="835" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9fM9B_Lhhmcx2pNvf9B7qrsX7FfP2Yfopln6a0-0SxE6QkuH2J1ysFDfXdkcmQ5pqXwiWc5JX0t48ETehjvS8q2ZIHxD7pr5X1MYMfoTzUY3nXULm3VWLg3QPIsAlw0q0xRB5Wc5sibKxP1FNnDSCzhqeCBxTA1BkOHIJvJB9n-W0zx9Icpr-JfJhMA/w640-h400/Greenwood%20Inn%20Sepia.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>And here is a "side shot" which shows how far back the hotel went along Greenwood Boulevard:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5_lRFnnKqo1t-SXS1xXU2s23Z4dSJLj33tulJko-maJcf8jAR5KeqUGdIxjAr6TETDTBrvMirNnv7gNAdx6ApznrRa0JrPdw4aAGSBouohBcVTRwDgu6chxop6Rt6Q5vIgJtjjM3hN3EhxADwbcZaD240lMdUCThrbYDdt0fSh7q_bxT60FVlumJbkw/s1583/Greenwood%20Inn%20(2).jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="999" data-original-width="1583" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5_lRFnnKqo1t-SXS1xXU2s23Z4dSJLj33tulJko-maJcf8jAR5KeqUGdIxjAr6TETDTBrvMirNnv7gNAdx6ApznrRa0JrPdw4aAGSBouohBcVTRwDgu6chxop6Rt6Q5vIgJtjjM3hN3EhxADwbcZaD240lMdUCThrbYDdt0fSh7q_bxT60FVlumJbkw/w640-h404/Greenwood%20Inn%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">There are many photos of the outside of The Greenwood Inn. Here are two rare pictures from inside - the Dining Room:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8APMBzUk8JyeSVpXoaK9E1QIlmAFZtMW-n2qd5xvTv8deQ4Qmw0OR-1xRZbklzLkusOnJoUCSWzANUowVQ8ACBiqcWwtNz-0n1wO7c0llmg5IVL6Wqm2Uz5ewD_Etv01olyazBFr3k6aABIHSk2m1saaIh-q4twqC7kcA4es-8IAjW8Kgu9oZWbMVA/s1422/Greenwood%20Inn%20Dining%20Room.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="911" data-original-width="1422" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8APMBzUk8JyeSVpXoaK9E1QIlmAFZtMW-n2qd5xvTv8deQ4Qmw0OR-1xRZbklzLkusOnJoUCSWzANUowVQ8ACBiqcWwtNz-0n1wO7c0llmg5IVL6Wqm2Uz5ewD_Etv01olyazBFr3k6aABIHSk2m1saaIh-q4twqC7kcA4es-8IAjW8Kgu9oZWbMVA/w640-h410/Greenwood%20Inn%20Dining%20Room.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and the Sun Room:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi09q-F49qzMjyopFXw4GwOZj6krd4HT1-UNfjxa5LbMh5JSrhEgMYv7BKpC593lNZtapU-PUW9clr0EC5s1ldQQDkZS4KmiiN-lABQHum5NjSkFrauh8g-z_Y30wi9Bqq-tZrtwM2SJwT2Q7mJw6Tk9aMYl2c9fAf4BLmDYFO9XmexqYQ79FYrGqeSqA/s1600/Sunroom%20Greenwood%20Inn.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="999" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi09q-F49qzMjyopFXw4GwOZj6krd4HT1-UNfjxa5LbMh5JSrhEgMYv7BKpC593lNZtapU-PUW9clr0EC5s1ldQQDkZS4KmiiN-lABQHum5NjSkFrauh8g-z_Y30wi9Bqq-tZrtwM2SJwT2Q7mJw6Tk9aMYl2c9fAf4BLmDYFO9XmexqYQ79FYrGqeSqA/w640-h400/Sunroom%20Greenwood%20Inn.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Benjamin Bayless did not like being unmarried. He had been married twice; unfortunately he was widowed twice. He decided to try again and on June 24, 1902 he married Maud Marie Rice. The groom was fifty-eight; the bride was thirty-five. Here is how one newspaper, the Chicago Inter-Ocean, reported the wedding on June 29, 1902:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4G7dc1G-n2Yxvmb_gLuZ2LcKgi2DuR88G9KX7r_3Dhpw1kKTredFCzD8JY14xkRqCndtxyN-pY1RB0EwD-k1wr7Tl2R_ojitAV-cPM1xBmBYOgufDuPqSR3tIVxyQWfmqxEq4-O_KueP4czMGA3mPAkRE9hn8qh9GFG28M0geJ-UzcdYdusdSH68jcQ/s887/Slipper.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="887" data-original-width="595" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4G7dc1G-n2Yxvmb_gLuZ2LcKgi2DuR88G9KX7r_3Dhpw1kKTredFCzD8JY14xkRqCndtxyN-pY1RB0EwD-k1wr7Tl2R_ojitAV-cPM1xBmBYOgufDuPqSR3tIVxyQWfmqxEq4-O_KueP4czMGA3mPAkRE9hn8qh9GFG28M0geJ-UzcdYdusdSH68jcQ/w430-h640/Slipper.JPG" width="430" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">The Chicago Tribune was a little more sedate in the way they reported the marriage on June 29, 1902:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjikh8SzR6gsRt6TjOiGEyqZ-Z5tREbQ2PLE9WlSsa5R0A9RzMGke5qxU9myYwDnVbH5s8FMACWx1lllQJ2xXgSNTW4ih8qYQ9GS-Ef2fEQG9ZHzy8ft7cDWTuKb_hrvSRrOnjqaQzKKE8n29b1KHqKAHEZl-zNSCdmV70mapQVGd6IpPffFTTfBMEaWQ/s986/29%20Jun%201902%20Tribune.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="986" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjikh8SzR6gsRt6TjOiGEyqZ-Z5tREbQ2PLE9WlSsa5R0A9RzMGke5qxU9myYwDnVbH5s8FMACWx1lllQJ2xXgSNTW4ih8qYQ9GS-Ef2fEQG9ZHzy8ft7cDWTuKb_hrvSRrOnjqaQzKKE8n29b1KHqKAHEZl-zNSCdmV70mapQVGd6IpPffFTTfBMEaWQ/w640-h318/29%20Jun%201902%20Tribune.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here is a photo of Maud Rice Bayless from her passport application:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijhZu1yhcEh77wb15oqCIPlXNtHoGrDJAJ1H7wgJ9wUCIx_GLzxORWm7dLpP439POcB39YY5HJa6-p1ABMNc7JQ1dF8n3wFEgUSEKdec8_iTpOQeNstj0uEbCu4caOIIjB3rEFI5eRGQm2JYGOdgODFks1HPLFHZ9MeD_SxqXAuTsWurTjrCnKhavaIA/s451/Bayless,%20Mude.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="392" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijhZu1yhcEh77wb15oqCIPlXNtHoGrDJAJ1H7wgJ9wUCIx_GLzxORWm7dLpP439POcB39YY5HJa6-p1ABMNc7JQ1dF8n3wFEgUSEKdec8_iTpOQeNstj0uEbCu4caOIIjB3rEFI5eRGQm2JYGOdgODFks1HPLFHZ9MeD_SxqXAuTsWurTjrCnKhavaIA/s320/Bayless,%20Mude.JPG" width="278" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After his marriage, Benjamin Bayless moved out of the Greenwood Inn and bought a house at 1033 Hinman Avenue in Evanston:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAdz7mbATNZo_psrTkvtvZmXdWf1y7uNTrorOCIFaRA8qiT4h8w3z_aXlqbqERQLb9bvvrZE1eJd9Q43wQw6VsixDFtcstqueStZwkP0Xrj38kA93OXF8SuVKnhs1V7N0HNvdBqAugDRAPTEmEUuEDifeT5v6eQr58iGG-paUo9eTMufflqVnzu9ZcvQ/s657/1033%20Hinman%20Avenue%20Evanston.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="589" data-original-width="657" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAdz7mbATNZo_psrTkvtvZmXdWf1y7uNTrorOCIFaRA8qiT4h8w3z_aXlqbqERQLb9bvvrZE1eJd9Q43wQw6VsixDFtcstqueStZwkP0Xrj38kA93OXF8SuVKnhs1V7N0HNvdBqAugDRAPTEmEUuEDifeT5v6eQr58iGG-paUo9eTMufflqVnzu9ZcvQ/w400-h359/1033%20Hinman%20Avenue%20Evanston.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1033 Hinman Avenue Evanston, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1908 when Benjamin Bayless was sixty-four years old he decided to retire and turned over the daily management of The Greenwood Inn to his son George who had been the Head Bookkeeper for the hotel. As is often the case, George made a few changes. He built a double house annex across the street and a cottage added to the main structure. Other than those changes, life at the Greenwood Inn remained the same as it had for years, which was one of the things guests found most appealing. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1910 US Census provides some mysterious information about the Bayless family and the Greenwood Inn. At the time of the 1910 US Census, Benjamin and Maud Bayless were still living at The Greenwood Inn. Benjamin stated that he was sixty-five years old, was on marriage #3 and that he had been married to his present wife for eight years. He said he was a "Hotel Owner" and that he owned the hotel free and clear. The first mysterious item on the 1910 Census concerns Benjamin's wife Maude. She said she was forty-six years old, that this was her first marriage, and that she too had been married for eight years. But then she revealed that she had given birth to one child, and that the child was not still living in 1910. I was unable to uncover any additional information about the deceased child of Benjamin and Maud Bayless.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The second mysterious item concerns fifty year old Alice Adams. She too, is living at the Greenwood Inn, but she lists her occupation as "Hotel Lessee." I was not able to uncover any additional information about who Alice Adams was, or what she was doing at the Greenwood Inn. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In addition to the Bayless family and the mysterious Alice Adams, there were thirty-two staff members living at the Inn, and sixty guests of the hotel on April 16, 1910 when the census taker came to call.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">One change that George Bayless did make was that he started to advertise. In the past, The Greenwood Inn relied on word-of-mouth advertising, but George decided that ads in the Chicago Tribune might help spread the word. Here's one from the Chicago Tribune June 9, 1908:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtuVhvMsm8Xc4-AmIN9Tglw0yChCoYq_cha311H2She0MvFVsMUX34XERwezpULDcMS6tEEHGKSoA89UC3zLE-9EPK9wyGcy4_Ei3brLbAidCGIBWZfu7cKtj-JhYvgevUoFYn5ywx54ZpWuG3mS4j7rX7y6gjqQjFpsSzCJu_9NOeusNCbG5NlY0sIw/s1117/Tribune%2009%20Jun%201908.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="231" data-original-width="1117" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtuVhvMsm8Xc4-AmIN9Tglw0yChCoYq_cha311H2She0MvFVsMUX34XERwezpULDcMS6tEEHGKSoA89UC3zLE-9EPK9wyGcy4_Ei3brLbAidCGIBWZfu7cKtj-JhYvgevUoFYn5ywx54ZpWuG3mS4j7rX7y6gjqQjFpsSzCJu_9NOeusNCbG5NlY0sIw/w640-h132/Tribune%2009%20Jun%201908.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Through the years The Greenwood Inn also advertised jobs that were available - waitresses, busboys, cooks, a pastry chef, maids and housekeepers, etc. The ads were pretty standard - each offered a salary plus room and board at the Inn. Typically the positions were advertised for a particular race - both whites and blacks were accepted, but in 1919 this ad appeared for the first time:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="120" data-original-width="1075" height="72" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDozSZZpRfdVKmlGkKWV0llt9vrKglVtGdip45wV78lEd3_1nFcx7PCnOGdh-HS61k9RgGhaXXzFGm7bNXRjv4Xs1lcIbOEbXBMOdemb-ShyR_SJaeiWPj_NAoZyQ45r8mRps_1F2ns5zU6-azd6CuOk7hXZUEF8ffrTq8npZtERGCU44V-c0tdSbgtg/w640-h72/03.23.1919.JPG" width="640" /></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">During this period the hotel itself received no publicity, and I'm sure that's the way that George Bayless wanted it. There were the usual mentions of local people coming and going, an occasional wedding that took place there, and the parents who were permanent residents who lost a son in World War I. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sometime prior to 1920, Benjamin and Maude Bayless bought a house at 720 Milburn Street in Evanston:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKFXt7i_LBUdz-XCEh0zP3FlEJouXhR40L4TbZLf0HOV9yZm_e8C1bN5qeN__BBEW5kkwA24SVHnjxc_Y8bRFy_c9852Ye8RLohrHDGqEjZv6ii1M2MJQrVfE5u_lng8XBOWfB6zwQPekP_3rrI9hIKOL-YDw8o8ke15mFG1FrcfFiGu8in5CsyzTjw/s429/720%20Milburn%20Street,%20Evanston-2.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="387" data-original-width="429" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKFXt7i_LBUdz-XCEh0zP3FlEJouXhR40L4TbZLf0HOV9yZm_e8C1bN5qeN__BBEW5kkwA24SVHnjxc_Y8bRFy_c9852Ye8RLohrHDGqEjZv6ii1M2MJQrVfE5u_lng8XBOWfB6zwQPekP_3rrI9hIKOL-YDw8o8ke15mFG1FrcfFiGu8in5CsyzTjw/w400-h361/720%20Milburn%20Street,%20Evanston-2.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">720 Milburn Street, Evanston, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Benjamin Bayless died July 28, 1920 in Evanston. He was seventy-six years old. Here is his Death Notice from the Chicago Tribune:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6DbQzy46DIFIQ4mmNQj4wHzCCNFy0G67JGb5isigzSL2eUu2JOKr3Lh_IA3xRmoFSQjAT3IdpQ188fePj4k_bG7sgmcNISmeERFejti3AdCFTHqGoMF4cqkj2GVosf9irgDRwFw1KnrMLX1e4iG2r9DG1XtDW2OLe2vVfidmer__tVp7dsI9CWUcWLw/s892/Bayliss%20Death%20Notice.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="282" data-original-width="892" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6DbQzy46DIFIQ4mmNQj4wHzCCNFy0G67JGb5isigzSL2eUu2JOKr3Lh_IA3xRmoFSQjAT3IdpQ188fePj4k_bG7sgmcNISmeERFejti3AdCFTHqGoMF4cqkj2GVosf9irgDRwFw1KnrMLX1e4iG2r9DG1XtDW2OLe2vVfidmer__tVp7dsI9CWUcWLw/w640-h202/Bayliss%20Death%20Notice.JPG" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6DbQzy46DIFIQ4mmNQj4wHzCCNFy0G67JGb5isigzSL2eUu2JOKr3Lh_IA3xRmoFSQjAT3IdpQ188fePj4k_bG7sgmcNISmeERFejti3AdCFTHqGoMF4cqkj2GVosf9irgDRwFw1KnrMLX1e4iG2r9DG1XtDW2OLe2vVfidmer__tVp7dsI9CWUcWLw/s892/Bayliss%20Death%20Notice.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">As you can imagine, the obituary in the Evanston News-Index was much larger:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFcB67z0P6eJSGaeF2-30Ju9MDCXZTwfGqWJh7FgmzVC4UfvfFELi0QdjzuIfCw7D7hztURlODaI88ggMAbdR0va26smAWJ5JO6EUvObWcPxO2SeHg6RObInK5yTGr-wcqnbQakWSeQ5FQLffj_66sETT7H0e6bM6yU0XfxBtl_F8eIpYE3nxeDClD0g/s505/Bayliss-1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="505" data-original-width="323" height="766" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFcB67z0P6eJSGaeF2-30Ju9MDCXZTwfGqWJh7FgmzVC4UfvfFELi0QdjzuIfCw7D7hztURlODaI88ggMAbdR0va26smAWJ5JO6EUvObWcPxO2SeHg6RObInK5yTGr-wcqnbQakWSeQ5FQLffj_66sETT7H0e6bM6yU0XfxBtl_F8eIpYE3nxeDClD0g/w491-h766/Bayliss-1.JPG" width="491" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="459" data-original-width="320" height="710" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlV1IMY8A7gwMVcSZC9b6LC4nZhzbfco7avXgEqZH4Mb608laJ7HqKlMthQxUl_V5xrLHzJZLXvkJ8a2NzEP-4uA96mb32fBPTEHGDUAXh9ZtcF2N1I4C0t1MqRAc_J-CBhfPxLksaDvdymvlJN73d3HPUgFFB7-b1AdZ_snG7SCvY7nCH6l5FBifQlA/w495-h710/Bayliss-2.JPG" width="495" /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Benjamin Bayless' death record said he would be buried at Chicago's Graceland Cemetery, but Graceland's online index did not show an entry for him. I checked Find a Grave, and it turns out that someone had created a Find a Grave page (with photos) for him at Rosehill Cemetery in the community mausoleum, and it turns out that person was me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Bayless had been cremated at Graceland, and was interred at Rosehill in the Larkspur Court Columbarium, upstairs at Unit One of the Rosehill Mausoleum:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1306" data-original-width="733" height="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQwsGdoGcfek2SpMfI8vV5_plC79fQcwoSf4IG0_zomUtaqXOJE3g88yBeFAdwMC8QUuI0Uh4mT1REpLQjnUMBzlSdcOGN33pWcHtXqG0ryO_inIt7fEBdxL4l8L_BYxJNNRDnmDXoQIqeHiEBLUoVSsf2SpSP-pWKYGCBEbEi6Ym9ZFI8DBASVd9jrg/w450-h800/140433217_1419472237.jpg" width="450" /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ob0zMb8HfUfNLX6tzhd2IFTCawqFyrqDqa1cIzUIis6iQDoaoKUZLwVUFN7xXtzL82YPv1orYlyDDYbmIEctXKIqWER3H1vfGxyjI_iMgsnkTAJh4kAoR5AllompN_g4zd-IE3HTDLU0CYm6hKFy8bAWQf8zSpI2tnrCTJWIWtQut3onpDZ1WyW1yg/s608/140433217_1419472249.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="601" data-original-width="608" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ob0zMb8HfUfNLX6tzhd2IFTCawqFyrqDqa1cIzUIis6iQDoaoKUZLwVUFN7xXtzL82YPv1orYlyDDYbmIEctXKIqWER3H1vfGxyjI_iMgsnkTAJh4kAoR5AllompN_g4zd-IE3HTDLU0CYm6hKFy8bAWQf8zSpI2tnrCTJWIWtQut3onpDZ1WyW1yg/w400-h395/140433217_1419472249.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Benjamin Bayless' Last Will and Testament was interesting in that he did not leave the Greenwood Inn to his wife Maude, he left the hotel (and his $5,000.00 life insurance policy) to his son George (1/3), his daughter Wilhelmine (1/3) and his granddaughter Wilhelmine (1/3). </span><span style="font-size: medium;">He did leave his wife $200.00 per month out of the income of the Greenwood Inn ($2,950.00 in today's funds), which he later reduced to $100.00 per month. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In the 1910 US Census Bayless said he owned the Greenwood Inn free and clear, but in his will he mentions a mortgage with the State National Bank in the amount of $10,000.00 ($150,000.00 today).</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Benjamin Bayless' son George had been running The Greenwood Inn since 1908. Benjamin and his wife had moved out of the Inn sometime before 1920, so Benjamin's death did not affect the day-to-day running of the Inn. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">George Bayless ran the Greenwood Inn as it had been run since it was The French House - quietly. The only time the Greenwood Inn appeared in the newspapers during George Bayless' tenure when was when the death of a long-time tenant was reported.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The end came for the Greenwood Inn in 1952. Here is the report from the Chicago Tribune from July 31, 1952:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBFhwiFttTIDW1QHoHSe4h8dWA86kQAgZQq3IJ1t6FnzxqisLUgDNMazD3kraPnDIpxXCqcvxdx8-GOXbbKHgI_cy6g6vuqSazbhBCy36cLe0DXQT_HqR4qeFTaXG8zeaVaqDw_032N9HMDjg0f7MHqG_r_PtkDiRDTKDWQusEU0P-_AgghxJExgHbPQ/s1417/Greenwood%20inn%201952.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1417" data-original-width="519" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBFhwiFttTIDW1QHoHSe4h8dWA86kQAgZQq3IJ1t6FnzxqisLUgDNMazD3kraPnDIpxXCqcvxdx8-GOXbbKHgI_cy6g6vuqSazbhBCy36cLe0DXQT_HqR4qeFTaXG8zeaVaqDw_032N9HMDjg0f7MHqG_r_PtkDiRDTKDWQusEU0P-_AgghxJExgHbPQ/s16000/Greenwood%20inn%201952.JPG" /></a></div><br /> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The article refers to a ninety-nine year ground lease with Northwestern University that expired in 1947 and had been extended for five years. Orvis French built his home on the site in 1869 not 1847. Perhaps French assumed an existing ground lease with Northwestern for whatever had previously occupied that plot. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Greenwood Inn was replaced by the aptly named Greenwood Inn Apartments in 1955. The apartments were built by local real estate mogul George J. Cyrus who built them in his usual colonial architectural style. Cyrus was a long-time Evanstonian and had an appreciation for local history. He erected a commemorative sign in front of the apartments recalling what had occupied the space in prior years. When the Greenwood Inn Apartments were converted to the Greenwood Inn Condominiums in 1983 the sign was removed. Here are some photos of the Greenwood Inn Condominiums in 2022:</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS-jBm6gIsn3iBS8lvG_3xFwubITRv1LhauzA7ANTDi6tKTzXUy31inLha_AILAPKQcXG65a4JAVnyBY4cpcjSNEOEV5tJJVis5dmSvddYz6ZNOU7hEPf4G2jqqLdnQCu3jphPjjR-5DGCJVfalQiQNDq0oLH1WIB77JwGC1CYtjuXEBQOqSIT4O6q_g/s3261/IMG_0055.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2260" data-original-width="3261" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS-jBm6gIsn3iBS8lvG_3xFwubITRv1LhauzA7ANTDi6tKTzXUy31inLha_AILAPKQcXG65a4JAVnyBY4cpcjSNEOEV5tJJVis5dmSvddYz6ZNOU7hEPf4G2jqqLdnQCu3jphPjjR-5DGCJVfalQiQNDq0oLH1WIB77JwGC1CYtjuXEBQOqSIT4O6q_g/w400-h278/IMG_0055.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhliOZugwuMwCYpHZnLcv4sJaPPwxS_cPqnFYskTBJ8jpEVg7kFoVxRsWcw9hvSTiAiJYdVmSR29V1ud9K9fgt1tsyyTfdl2mj6ipp0OtclJbY8w5UvObD2wIheOMM2FVl1CoeKXsPlSNZxL5_oMctyTg0ZnCm2ZBr6SV91-b6zszGGwcphn8uqTA_c9w/s1280/greenwood_inn_in_evanston_il_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhliOZugwuMwCYpHZnLcv4sJaPPwxS_cPqnFYskTBJ8jpEVg7kFoVxRsWcw9hvSTiAiJYdVmSR29V1ud9K9fgt1tsyyTfdl2mj6ipp0OtclJbY8w5UvObD2wIheOMM2FVl1CoeKXsPlSNZxL5_oMctyTg0ZnCm2ZBr6SV91-b6zszGGwcphn8uqTA_c9w/w400-h300/greenwood_inn_in_evanston_il_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzclqHEvX8wGI5I0E3NiWhjRB6KZgkxOaDfXqwJhpUm3BuQi0i7VQ45yiXHKwEfCHh-Ttm6y-tGVlKyZAX_p_5t04eQoToIquKh_Nrxrh4T4gLdjWnxG3mAUNdpoadTjY2Rfx1Wvj9htDaUukEqMvuE2Hmsqgor3wIzxmpfhdqv99g7jiOOdgE2eLLyg/s3264/IMG_0057.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzclqHEvX8wGI5I0E3NiWhjRB6KZgkxOaDfXqwJhpUm3BuQi0i7VQ45yiXHKwEfCHh-Ttm6y-tGVlKyZAX_p_5t04eQoToIquKh_Nrxrh4T4gLdjWnxG3mAUNdpoadTjY2Rfx1Wvj9htDaUukEqMvuE2Hmsqgor3wIzxmpfhdqv99g7jiOOdgE2eLLyg/w400-h300/IMG_0057.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgECzOVh-2V7g2ViSxZpSJBi1gc24etgCdcuMkWMu8F-Sd1SNMslgAmtUNISc7FZc-_zWH0dCzobPxH0xmIG-7_3JJJ_2iA81YxteZdZezCi1i2jQVnHPhe2xwYaKuMCvqA4m3uTUG90ublStmaEYOJr0cksDX7mtv2Wt2F49pBiSm8rGQkvKPNLxclog/s2589/IMG_0058.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="2589" height="379" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgECzOVh-2V7g2ViSxZpSJBi1gc24etgCdcuMkWMu8F-Sd1SNMslgAmtUNISc7FZc-_zWH0dCzobPxH0xmIG-7_3JJJ_2iA81YxteZdZezCi1i2jQVnHPhe2xwYaKuMCvqA4m3uTUG90ublStmaEYOJr0cksDX7mtv2Wt2F49pBiSm8rGQkvKPNLxclog/w400-h379/IMG_0058.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xbIpq0Fk5w8RhaCo-kWecGk0mxLC3ERR9EM_MtDYrTa9qVIj0ULFrP0pGYdVzyHCLO9bSuODtfnkYrU_5RE-Wjz4X1oLCi0bQQx70ocD9-4Ud059eSlVOsFBKFwrS6hZ0Z41ZISGbFeQB6Nb2l37DquABApL4PlbRHk70eZp4I7IYkc5eAEq4S5LPg/s3264/IMG_0060.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2013" data-original-width="3264" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xbIpq0Fk5w8RhaCo-kWecGk0mxLC3ERR9EM_MtDYrTa9qVIj0ULFrP0pGYdVzyHCLO9bSuODtfnkYrU_5RE-Wjz4X1oLCi0bQQx70ocD9-4Ud059eSlVOsFBKFwrS6hZ0Z41ZISGbFeQB6Nb2l37DquABApL4PlbRHk70eZp4I7IYkc5eAEq4S5LPg/w400-h246/IMG_0060.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">George Bayless died in 1955. The location of his grave is unknown.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now you know the complete history of the house/hotel that stood for eighty-three years on the northwest corner of Greenwood and Hinman in Evanston.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">May all those affiliated in any way with The French House or The Greenwood Inn rest in peace. </span></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-1733878475214119822022-07-01T04:35:00.002-07:002022-11-15T13:06:40.623-08:00THE FRENCH HOUSE HOTEL, EVANSTON, ILLINOIS - Orvis French<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Longtime readers of this blog will remember that I have always been interested in the history of hotels - from the Orrington Hotel in Evanston to the Hotel Del Coronado in California. While doing research for this blog or for my family genealogy I often found references to The Greenwood Inn in Evanston, Illinois at the northwest corner of Greenwood and Hinman. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKDBp2QCDfuKYhCzBi2J3WcnY4s9gxSsbiFarefPn46DEliD5gUrQzDv1Nl3sZI3nqIrK3Wld1KMW9lr2C0xBHXvueB-oyhyCpRRenZhmUqhV14Vk4wHVbk8aS-ypicDwEzw_tmPTletDvcERJRT9fk5A-bbYfN1pR5odNKX3HPdv3z5t02tv8ShypRA/s1600/Greenwood%20Inn-1%20(3).jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1004" data-original-width="1600" height="367" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKDBp2QCDfuKYhCzBi2J3WcnY4s9gxSsbiFarefPn46DEliD5gUrQzDv1Nl3sZI3nqIrK3Wld1KMW9lr2C0xBHXvueB-oyhyCpRRenZhmUqhV14Vk4wHVbk8aS-ypicDwEzw_tmPTletDvcERJRT9fk5A-bbYfN1pR5odNKX3HPdv3z5t02tv8ShypRA/w585-h367/Greenwood%20Inn-1%20(3).jpg" width="585" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So this month I will tell you the story of the Greenwood Inn that actually started out as a family home, and it's founder, Orvis French.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">First, let's look at the life of Orvis French prior to the time he opened a hotel. Orvis French was born at Barre, Vermont on January 31, 1822. He was one of eleven children of David French (1794-1854) and Fedelia "Delia" French (1794-1887). David and Delia French were distantly related. David and Delia's children were: <span style="font-family: inherit;">Christina (1816-1887), Fidelia Jr (1818-1820), Angelina (1820-1908), Orvis (1822-1897), </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span>Esther Ann (1829-1891), David Edgar (1891-1899), Delia Agnes (1838-1919), Alice (1842-1844), David Crandall (1824-1826), </span><span>Gilbert Lincoln (1834-1889), and Clinton DeWitt (1849-1872). </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Orvis French traced his lineage from some of the well-known pioneers of New England. Both of his parents were descended from John and Grace French, of Braintree, Massachusetts. Grace French was a daughter of John Alden, of Plymouth Colony. Orvis' father David French represented the fourth, and Orvis' mother the fifth, generation of the French family in America. David French was born at Westmoreland, New Hampshire, and moved at the age of sixteen years to Barre, Vermont. He was a tanner and currier by occupation.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Orvis French was educated at the public schools of Barre, and also spent three months at an academy at Montpelier. From the age of fifteen years he was familiar with mercantile business. He began as a clerk for G. W. Collamore, working the first fifteen months for forty dollars, and boarding with his parents. He persevered in this undertaking, however, and after a few years was enabled to engage in business for himself in his native town of Barre. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">During this era, Orvis was mentioned almost continuously in the area newspapers that he was the sole agent in Barre for various patent medicines including "Jones Drops for Humors":</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW3Ko5pZPbnzp6D-jogvFfwz0wLAOy67OrsFYzMB8hmgEMrpqfzYZcebqdk2uhsN9swoRGGtcX035_u3dbXHukYI7inJhFM3n2KjeZdMCQZBkWHQdV9nHO_WZK8rVgQ6p4zaxaomZm7bEE5X6l43AjzhxWTd6aVymRtRP_DdTxbVqIt-k6W8XNBIh-Zg/s745/Jones%20Drops.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="535" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW3Ko5pZPbnzp6D-jogvFfwz0wLAOy67OrsFYzMB8hmgEMrpqfzYZcebqdk2uhsN9swoRGGtcX035_u3dbXHukYI7inJhFM3n2KjeZdMCQZBkWHQdV9nHO_WZK8rVgQ6p4zaxaomZm7bEE5X6l43AjzhxWTd6aVymRtRP_DdTxbVqIt-k6W8XNBIh-Zg/w460-h640/Jones%20Drops.JPG" width="460" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and "Dr. Wistar's Balsam of Wild Cherry":</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgegTbxNTPKbFWPSf63ZfPGl42SY1MNtkggxzN_7rKu0dowhIa5fNcJsVUIE-ujmHovwmeuUZ1n2cM0Ub3mzUtLJpZEaNtR75TpFgQpS4h_3pCnWudHc2sOtyrwCNHKeZAh5yGc7jVYvGqp2Ut5AZTCt-UatXjsxjf6GpNtntuRKOBaV41niHqMDGyEA/s1444/Wistar.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1444" data-original-width="443" height="1372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgegTbxNTPKbFWPSf63ZfPGl42SY1MNtkggxzN_7rKu0dowhIa5fNcJsVUIE-ujmHovwmeuUZ1n2cM0Ub3mzUtLJpZEaNtR75TpFgQpS4h_3pCnWudHc2sOtyrwCNHKeZAh5yGc7jVYvGqp2Ut5AZTCt-UatXjsxjf6GpNtntuRKOBaV41niHqMDGyEA/w420-h1372/Wistar.JPG" width="420" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On January 10, 1847 Orvis French married Mariah Earle (1824-1865) in Williamstown, Vermont. The bride was twenty-two; the groom was twenty-four.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Orvis and Mariah were blessed with six children: Ralph Eugene (1847-1850), Julia Martha/Mrs. William Hayden (1850-1925), Orvis Clinton (1851-1908), Sarah Helen/Mrs. Charles Pearson "Nellie" (1854-1896), Josephine "Josie" (1861-1943), and Frederick Earle (1863-1931). </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1850 US Census finds Orvis French and his family living in Barre, Vermont. The family consisted of: Orvis (28 years old), Mariah (25), Ralph (2) and Julia (1). Living with them was Clark Holden (25), a "Clerk." Orvis reported his occupation as "Merchant." Orvis also stated that he owned real estate valued at $1,000.00 ($37,000 today). </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After about twelve years of running a store in Barre, Vermont, French decided it was time to "Go West," so in 1856 he opened a dry goods store in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.</span></span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1860 US Census finds Orvis and his family living in the 3rd Ward of the City of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The family consisted of Orvis (38 years old), Maria (35), Julia (10), Orvis (9), Helen (6) and Louisa Ochs (19). Orvis said he owned real estate worth $4,000 ($139,329 today) and personalty of $2,500 ($87,081 today). Orvis said he was a "Merchant." Everyone in the house could read and write.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">French began dealing in dry goods on a wholesale basis, and continued there until 1867, when he </span></span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">moved again - this time to Chicago where he set up a wholesale clothing house. At the time he moved his business to Chicago, he set up residence in beautiful Evanston, Illinois, by renting a house at the southwest corner of Hinman Avenue and Church Street. Although raised a Methodist, after coming to Evanston he </span></span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">was connected with the Avenue Presbyterian Church, and served as one of the Trustees of that organization. When a Congregational Church was established in Evanston he transferred to them, and remained a Congregationalist for the rest of his life. His Methodist roots were deep enough that although he no longer was a parishioner of theirs, he </span></span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">did not consume intoxicating beverages so "Dry Evanston" was very appealing to him. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Sadly, Orvis' wife Mariah Earle French died in Chicago on January 17, 1865. Her Death Record was destroyed in the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 so we do not know her cause of death. She was buried the the family plot in Section 104 at Rosehill Cemetery next to her son Ralph who died in 1850. Ralph died in Vermont but after French bought the large plot at Rosehill he had Ralph's remains disinterred and reburied at Rosehill</span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJWxOQsFrf4Ue4X482xBw0Q458mqBu1T-NCdqLBiYSdE8c4mwwIKkJqJNp5DZXe7XZArSnZBFDC3LJrliVfzD1pg0faIRUxFx9RD2bntfA3MEzIpnqbawG3dKh7rFYI0XgO5o0qHxIuP8it7Rt8ZnGbSB9Qb4L_D6ULA8GuKzXvePsFwaKeQcaSn4RJA/s1306/French%20Monument.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="733" data-original-width="1306" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJWxOQsFrf4Ue4X482xBw0Q458mqBu1T-NCdqLBiYSdE8c4mwwIKkJqJNp5DZXe7XZArSnZBFDC3LJrliVfzD1pg0faIRUxFx9RD2bntfA3MEzIpnqbawG3dKh7rFYI0XgO5o0qHxIuP8it7Rt8ZnGbSB9Qb4L_D6ULA8GuKzXvePsFwaKeQcaSn4RJA/w640-h360/French%20Monument.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1851" data-original-width="2829" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTCgCtX-4BbH2uNMsqkcHpVn8Hyr8i8pgopMiKqR_hqRR6GVS9XE1o0HviKRR2agczKBAtczCaqljo0OjTzKW0HEppj7ifKdNO5BtpHtbinlsZvRRxyzSf_4lGQA8tVE6-3fzYs4l_t7NDsF-OIPZurv2y6S9L7HF33qmMmsR_o06-4haDQmldzHYEJQ/w640-h418/French,%20Mariah%20Tombstone.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photo courtesy of Find a Grave volunteer Meredith</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1608" data-original-width="2776" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimObHIqKvGmlnWedBLqdCQgPzQT-3b6Fx3xqWTEOQh8lknZNRVKjj6E3Cl5C_968XPmsGnUEltxDGoSA0QYf68MWo3iH7R2Bh3GjJ4XSerFZlgff-txBzu0N7d-GdfUFyRMOaPNVcWYiJ14RZrSloVX2w6vEVH4zsE8wxozwsJlV_0EQqHSqM1FPqf6w/w640-h370/French,%20Ralph.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photo courtesy of Find a Grave volunteer Meredith</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">On September 6, 1866 Orvis French married a widow, Martha Farrington Carpenter (1828-1913) in Barre, Vermont. She was the daughter of Nathaniel Farrington of Walden, Vermont and the widow of Dr. Augustus Carpenter. Martha had one son, Edward Farrington Carpenter (1852-1928). </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Orvis French loved Evanston so he decided to settle there permanently. In 1869 he built a residence for himself on the northwest corner of Hinman Avenue and Greenwood Boulevard on land he leased from Northwestern University. In the early days of Evanston, almost all of the land was owned by Northwestern, and they still own parcels in downtown Evanston to this day. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The 1870 US Census finds Orvis French and his family living in beautiful Evanston, Illinois. The census taker was noted Evanstonian Philo Judson Beveridge and he visited the French home on June 2, 1870. The French Family consisted of: Orvis French (45 years old), wife Martha (42), and children Julia (20), Clinton (17), Nellie (16), Josie (9), and Fred (7). Also with the French family was Martha's son Edward Carpenter (17). Orvis French reported his occupation as "Commissioner." Edward Carpenter was a "Boat Clerk," and Clinton and Fred were "Grocers." Orvis French reported that his real estate was worth $60,000 ($1,324,000 today) and personalty $22,000 ($483,000 today). </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Life was good for Orvis French. He was a wealthy man, had a loving wife and children and a successful business and lived in a community where he was respected and admired. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">But life is not all roses for anyone and tragedy struck Orvis French on October 8-10, 1871. The Great Chicago Fire destroyed his business and swept away most of his properties. He realized little from insurance because his carriers were wiped out by the extent of the calamity. But great people realize that there can be opportunities waiting even in the darkest of times if we know where to look - and that's exactly what Orvis French did. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Evanston newspapers reported:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Although himself impoverished by the fire, he received into (his) house many homeless refugees and this act of generosity was the unintentional beginning of a new line of activity. It was several months before some of his guests were able to secure money and employment and by that time they had become so accustomed to their quarters that they asked to be allowed to remain. As he had no other business at the time, he consented and thus began the "French House" which ultimately became the Greenwood Inn. </i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Orvis French's house was large enough to house his family but not large enough to be a permanent hotel. French began adding on to his house little-by-little as guests multiplied until it ultimately contained six houses joined together containing 125 rooms(!!!) and covered a large area. Mr. French was said to be a genial h</span><span style="font-size: medium;">ost.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;">He had a rotund figure, a smiling face, a hearty manner and an accommodation disposition, and was willing to give credit to an honest man who happened to need it. Mrs. French too, was said to be a model housekeeper and made everyone feel at home. The consequence was that their house was always full, and many of their guests remained with them year after year. And what was the name of this establishment? The French House, of course.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5bJGy3Lc19Q0LSjQv3FMR5_qROAq23rKuIMKimO2tzSivBUKIzERFBx6V5E39R5H6KE2ZuluDCeJgGqyNESfBUPQTdBOQhxL3wyFhPHrSKnxLOLTK5xSNnxvrSrok2TIlrnk2NM0KM_fP1TrPCd9qlAfD4kztaJul0KFsI6qP5p0_PAishzxrbVpz-w/s1177/French,%20Orvis%20by%20a%20chair.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1177" data-original-width="499" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5bJGy3Lc19Q0LSjQv3FMR5_qROAq23rKuIMKimO2tzSivBUKIzERFBx6V5E39R5H6KE2ZuluDCeJgGqyNESfBUPQTdBOQhxL3wyFhPHrSKnxLOLTK5xSNnxvrSrok2TIlrnk2NM0KM_fP1TrPCd9qlAfD4kztaJul0KFsI6qP5p0_PAishzxrbVpz-w/w272-h640/French,%20Orvis%20by%20a%20chair.jpg" width="272" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Orvis French</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">People loved staying at The French House - so much in fact, that one wrote a poem about it:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtGEUsN_sIQQ2XweXD6WRNMA7fYL0sX-BBmn09fwUn9i5yzT1BSV1qnMq0_571Vij5MGYbazgEvMvF35b1G_T4l7QxtAfNYhXkbb5xkmEG1e5cAZOeo7WhFQ8WL3XHWcqejn6Wqr2inhKfjhyK83XQMGXrplkkV8dLDkr9JM7ZbJaepq9u0-KwoDOeig/s2706/French%20Hotel%20de%20Comfort.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2706" data-original-width="1524" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtGEUsN_sIQQ2XweXD6WRNMA7fYL0sX-BBmn09fwUn9i5yzT1BSV1qnMq0_571Vij5MGYbazgEvMvF35b1G_T4l7QxtAfNYhXkbb5xkmEG1e5cAZOeo7WhFQ8WL3XHWcqejn6Wqr2inhKfjhyK83XQMGXrplkkV8dLDkr9JM7ZbJaepq9u0-KwoDOeig/w360-h640/French%20Hotel%20de%20Comfort.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Although running a hotel can be a (more than) full-time job, Orvis French still found time for other pursuits. Like many other successful men he began to look outward - to see what he could do to make his community a better place. The Chicago Evening Post reported on July 10, 1872 that French had been elected a Justice of the Peace at Evanston:</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcImcnKEwQIUmoX1yCvsyXc7By9Rqb6w0E7gmx30w-s4kwTsPJzAf9mp7OoVZm3GnpFMAh3Bd_yb8K72P5e--6_h6HqVjBXlYpNXSqeYP3Lttd-lMkmQPzuDANwh62W70-07E4-41LeLyLJdcT05a4rv86sq-pxCDe86ltjOvcrJbRw47WWoqemsA0PA/s823/Chicago%20Evening%20Post%2010%20Jul%201872.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="157" data-original-width="823" height="122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcImcnKEwQIUmoX1yCvsyXc7By9Rqb6w0E7gmx30w-s4kwTsPJzAf9mp7OoVZm3GnpFMAh3Bd_yb8K72P5e--6_h6HqVjBXlYpNXSqeYP3Lttd-lMkmQPzuDANwh62W70-07E4-41LeLyLJdcT05a4rv86sq-pxCDe86ltjOvcrJbRw47WWoqemsA0PA/w640-h122/Chicago%20Evening%20Post%2010%20Jul%201872.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Throughout 1873 French was involved with the question of establishing a Water Works to provide fresh water for Evanston residents. The Chicago Evening Post reported on April 12, 1873 that the "Water Works Party" of which Orvis French was a part was elected by an overwhelming margin:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="651" data-original-width="638" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiwCFN-mO-Hg1-fMopVxXQxXfmCNR3tQCw8U9O4N5axYaWBRBGeWw0OaVHBsoEevk3wXm2LbcQDKr5b6uJ_Hb-0rWYUn53Wt9E3Av4gHZzw51wYQGrahTRtmdFmFdqBaq6v0RD0jyjGvsVge91jh1y6_1Hvx7jG_2ow5VksUPE2LD-2GtPKDOvrZHxqw/w393-h400/Suburban.JPG" width="393" /></div><span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1876 there was a new hotel in town - The Mattison House at Davis Street and Chicago Avenue. The Mattison House was the forerunner to The Avenue House and the North Shore Hotel. For a while Orvis French was losing business to his competitor to the northwest because it was several blocks closer to the Davis Street Depot of the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad. Guests moved to The Mattison House because of the convenience to transportation. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Orvis French being an enterprising businessman, met this challenge by getting a spring wagon and a horse which shuttled between the station and The French House. At the reins was French's son Frederick</span><span style="font-size: large;">, </span><span style="font-size: medium;">then 13, who studied his lessons while waiting for trains. Later, after young French went into business, the hotel owner bought a bus drawn by two horses which was used until the Dempster Street station was built. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">During the 1880s Orvis French was in his 60s and so he started to slow down from all his labors and enjoy life more. Local Vermont newspapers often reported visits of French and his wife to relatives who still lived in the Barre, Vermont area. French also became very involved with the Masonic Lodge in Evanston. Here's a photo of him from that period:</span></p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_GJegyDf56liYhfmim877G1IzdDkZZdvsJShQicvci8RHrbXCKh-ggcDuMJDMBX7OdAHmcB5nTfjM6Nelsp-s364xT28ZaP2WTvcODKARpzFotCzRg-oxGfsLJImu3Y01xrlO8m1OYdY12_j8NBi89NViiuvxmsi0hD9OTu8myt6k5cyx_-49EvD09g/s1431/Orvis%20French,%20Mason.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1431" data-original-width="913" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_GJegyDf56liYhfmim877G1IzdDkZZdvsJShQicvci8RHrbXCKh-ggcDuMJDMBX7OdAHmcB5nTfjM6Nelsp-s364xT28ZaP2WTvcODKARpzFotCzRg-oxGfsLJImu3Y01xrlO8m1OYdY12_j8NBi89NViiuvxmsi0hD9OTu8myt6k5cyx_-49EvD09g/w408-h640/Orvis%20French,%20Mason.jpg" width="408" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here's an ad for the French House from 1890:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="869" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGw6SdQf5PDYl9kRDqLoDUqf03uBa2J0NtSlDvPc7EYoDvZFhZ9VOhlBRcYWdQJlHBSMT8QjZzw7npleA6JyTbySz-6OJP4d60jz1SczGjoxWr0SSdq3Q2eRbHhAYHvVF8WdWUqWXB-ijD7gtFeOqxRm4OovHTs7LH6KRu4PC6vhIs3v4lVBMOi9vcYw/w640-h416/French%20House%201890.JPG" width="640" /></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">On March 26, 1892, the Chicago Tribune published the shocking news that Orvis French had sold The French House:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRAzEAtCFmOyCZ08agM-g5njkR-X2fTq79BMuXA58AVkSTHSGCiqHtR14ZPvZqe1DFjlEomnrkUaaLoANTh-w1BQou1_NUYfhPhn8VA9bZQOJIAcNp84v0OMwntERkbBk0UwNKorgevffdM-51QqH7IFp-BGhkT2xkUvPhJpgduN35opg8DoL1IC72Hg/s852/26%20Mar%201892.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="497" height="815" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRAzEAtCFmOyCZ08agM-g5njkR-X2fTq79BMuXA58AVkSTHSGCiqHtR14ZPvZqe1DFjlEomnrkUaaLoANTh-w1BQou1_NUYfhPhn8VA9bZQOJIAcNp84v0OMwntERkbBk0UwNKorgevffdM-51QqH7IFp-BGhkT2xkUvPhJpgduN35opg8DoL1IC72Hg/w476-h815/26%20Mar%201892.JPG" width="476" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Orvis French was 70 years old in 1892 and as I mentioned above, running a hotel is a more-than full time job. French wanted to retire and enjoy the fruits of his labors.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After the sale of their home/hotel, Orvis French and his wife moved to a house at 1232 Hinman Avenue in Evanston. (1232 Hinman had formerly been known as 123 Hinman Avenue N but was changed to 1232 as a result of Evanston's renumbering which was implemented after the annexation of South Evanston in 1893.):</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgspjUy-dCwp8vk45KB9uDXrRqr9IlRuK4SC62QgMDoU1rxpmO-MT2OjmBYSA8LBpD8rID8rYThJpTqX9E5bLmidxAuZLhMuJPOti5r2Ysx_ipZfxE43nKiknd6Fegu_1tVohOfLHLDPN31ogYehY4xSKuvMmaL0X4Zu8pw4Q4CNaSF4admqcXX8NorUA/s455/1232%20Hinman.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="455" data-original-width="340" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgspjUy-dCwp8vk45KB9uDXrRqr9IlRuK4SC62QgMDoU1rxpmO-MT2OjmBYSA8LBpD8rID8rYThJpTqX9E5bLmidxAuZLhMuJPOti5r2Ysx_ipZfxE43nKiknd6Fegu_1tVohOfLHLDPN31ogYehY4xSKuvMmaL0X4Zu8pw4Q4CNaSF4admqcXX8NorUA/w478-h640/1232%20Hinman.JPG" width="478" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1232 Hinman Avenue, Evanston, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Evanston Index newspaper reported that on Orvis French's 75th birthday the following poem was presented by his family:</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>'Tis fitting we congratulate</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Grandfather French upon this date.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>To reach a full three score and ten</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Falls seldom to the lot of men.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Yet here we see him live and thrive</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>In happiness at seventy-five.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Life would not thus have held its force</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Had it not had a worthy course;</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>But temperance insured good health,</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>And skill and industry gave wealth; </i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>He's had the comfort that attends</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>The presence of a host of friends;</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>He's had an honest joy and pride</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Is blessing all at his fireside.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>And in return children and wife</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Have cheered and comforted his life.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Frenches and Carpenters unite</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>To make his years pass with delight.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>And, members of his lengthening line</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Haydens and Pearsons too combine.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>All branches of his family tree</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>In loyalty and zeal agree.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">So still he flourishes in peace,</span></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>And still his well spent years increase.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>And children and grandchildren pray</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>God's blessing on him every day.</i></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Orvis French's daughter Sarah Helen French Pearson (called Nellie) died suddenly on June 12, 1896. She was forty-two years old. Here is her Death Notice from the Chicago Chronicle of June 13, 1896:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgELtpJiIy21A2sswN5XkmXnG3NvnddD_ljBidh5cXTjCLH1oHxI8hG2MMvOgA57Awp4NBFpugKPzci5wBWpC7SGOxg4P503Z9H619SsFcPva4T34CUbLSIBxF4cXYUTyWIfe2QJQUI1sg8nBgZCHivOoz3WBqfBrXJH7IKZju3iHPSkyR5NYqZdrwkrw/s789/Pearson,%20Sarah%20Death%20Notice.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="446" data-original-width="789" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgELtpJiIy21A2sswN5XkmXnG3NvnddD_ljBidh5cXTjCLH1oHxI8hG2MMvOgA57Awp4NBFpugKPzci5wBWpC7SGOxg4P503Z9H619SsFcPva4T34CUbLSIBxF4cXYUTyWIfe2QJQUI1sg8nBgZCHivOoz3WBqfBrXJH7IKZju3iHPSkyR5NYqZdrwkrw/w640-h362/Pearson,%20Sarah%20Death%20Notice.JPG" width="640" /></a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She had suffered for years with inflammatory rheumatism which over time had weakened her heart. It was reported that her condition had improved so her death came as a shock to all who knew her. She was, of course, buried in the French Family plot at Rosehill:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfz8T3SLxV2hpPBEbf1MEpmS54y1VCk1ERu3j44Kz81Zo_vA6M1hdpG2WuqOs99LKipmyumUV50RT3MjtNtVGdfteerOvudR1CULVyWZKm53pJP1umB7sw4LSB-cGofDY_xa9cZu9H9W2AE0BLdfNWBEnkNnG6YBp-vJKLeTxd-91bkPQjc5oeTlMixA/s2300/French,%20sarah%20tombstone.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1401" data-original-width="2300" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfz8T3SLxV2hpPBEbf1MEpmS54y1VCk1ERu3j44Kz81Zo_vA6M1hdpG2WuqOs99LKipmyumUV50RT3MjtNtVGdfteerOvudR1CULVyWZKm53pJP1umB7sw4LSB-cGofDY_xa9cZu9H9W2AE0BLdfNWBEnkNnG6YBp-vJKLeTxd-91bkPQjc5oeTlMixA/w640-h390/French,%20sarah%20tombstone.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photo courtesy of Find a Grave volunteer meredith</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>The death of O</span><span>rvis French was reported by the Evanston Index newspaper on November 6, 1897:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Orvis French died very suddenly on Saturday, October 30, 1897 at 9:30 pm. He had been an invalid for several years, but had not been confined to bed, and had walked downtown the day before his death. On Saturday the 30th he retired early, and after a short sleep woke up and complained of the heat. His wife at once began to remove some of the bed clothes, and as she was doing this he died without pain or warning.</span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Other members of the family were at once sent for, but so swift and silent had been his transition from life to death that they would scarcely believe that Mr. French had passed away until the arrival of Dr. Clapp, who pronounced him dead.</span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">The funeral was held at his residence, 1232 Hinman Avenue, at 2 o'clock on Monday, November 1, 1897. The services were conducted by Dr. Lobs, pastor of the First Congregational Church. The casket and parlors were covered with choice flowers, and the presence of a detachment of Knights Templar gave special impressiveness to the ceremony. The pallbearers were; H.B. Hill, M.A. Dean, E.A. Lord, J.J. Charles, J.V. Taylor and E.H. Buehler. The remains were interred in the French family plot at Rosehill. </span></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxKy9obKmqlEhyODPKCN5EL23imbnBXqkvi8eDbthsBagMV2S9EZhvzX7fyRsJ1If93hmVr1gpInV20SRrJi8mA3AJZxJwm_fUjnwUlHsOpVxHaPSlmRMtRzkDW0252v_4fIXrpvCXoQQq8g4A5g2IjiWSnlKG_dWF0FUFtuSYxpZuafttHa3smMTpWA/s1306/French%20Monument.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="733" data-original-width="1306" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxKy9obKmqlEhyODPKCN5EL23imbnBXqkvi8eDbthsBagMV2S9EZhvzX7fyRsJ1If93hmVr1gpInV20SRrJi8mA3AJZxJwm_fUjnwUlHsOpVxHaPSlmRMtRzkDW0252v_4fIXrpvCXoQQq8g4A5g2IjiWSnlKG_dWF0FUFtuSYxpZuafttHa3smMTpWA/w640-h360/French%20Monument.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgavd37vfVoIUWRiGXzIVUQ0OY1lNbz5NU6ncflhihPkSaiNmfvo7g4H-pBSPtW4yshTuWAMxF47huqiuz-2sYHKGmq1uiToKOE3lsAcIoKRjS5hNj2oA6-xyHpeu5EElU5iKMxGHZ1RW9ei5DTogFtrE2SeF8MROJ6AHXzaN18fr3UpCb4dALxWshLCg/s591/French,%20orvis.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="398" data-original-width="591" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgavd37vfVoIUWRiGXzIVUQ0OY1lNbz5NU6ncflhihPkSaiNmfvo7g4H-pBSPtW4yshTuWAMxF47huqiuz-2sYHKGmq1uiToKOE3lsAcIoKRjS5hNj2oA6-xyHpeu5EElU5iKMxGHZ1RW9ei5DTogFtrE2SeF8MROJ6AHXzaN18fr3UpCb4dALxWshLCg/w400-h269/French,%20orvis.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Next month we will report what happened to the French House Hotel after it was purchased in March of 1892 by Benjamin Bayliss of the firm of Bayliss Bros. & Co. of Louisville, Kentucky and renamed The Greenwood Inn. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Orvis French - tragedy led his life in a different direction than he had anticipated. But like many great men, he was able to turn tragedy into triumph. May he rest in peace.</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span> .</p></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-37591121648413363502022-06-01T05:55:00.001-07:002022-06-01T17:41:39.408-07:00EVANSTON'S RICHEST WOMAN (68) ELOPES WITH CAR SALESMAN (29) - Part Three - Sarah Vowell Brown Deynzer and Harry C. Wils<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">If you have not already read Part One and Part Two of this tale, you should read them before reading Part Three:</span></p><p><a href="https://undereverytombstone.blogspot.com/2022/04/evanstons-richest-woman-68-elopes-with.html"><span style="font-size: medium;">https://undereverytombstone.blogspot.com/2022/04/evanstons-richest-woman-68-elopes-with.html</span></a></p><p><a href="https://undereverytombstone.blogspot.com/2022/05/evanstons-richest-woman-68-elopes-with.html"><span style="font-size: medium;">https://undereverytombstone.blogspot.com/2022/05/evanstons-richest-woman-68-elopes-with.html</span></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Part One tells the story of the first marriage of Sarah Vowell. In 1885 Sarah (Sadie) Vowell married Renaissance man Edwin F. Brown. Although they spent the last five years of their marriage apart, there was a death-bed reconciliation just before Brown's death on February 15, 1912. With a Last Will and Testament executed just two days before he died, Edwin Brown left his widow $3 million ($87.7 million today).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Part Two tells the story of the second marriage of Sarah Vowell. In 1921 when she was fifty-seven years old, she married twenty-five year old bond salesman John G. (Jack) Deynzer after a whirlwind courtship of twenty-four days. Not surprisingly the marriage soured and the couple was finally divorced in 1929 after a five-year-long trip through the court system.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I ended Part Two with the query "...can we rest assured that she learned her lesson - that she would never again marry a boy-toy who appeared at her door trying to sell her something - or would she???" This month we will find out that indeed she did not learn that lesson.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As a sixty-five year old widow/divorcee, Sarah Vowell Brown Deynzer did not change her lifestyle much at all. She remained in the cadmium-yellow main house "Windiknowe" that she and her first husband built in 1892 on the shores of Lake Michigan south of the Evanston Lighthouse. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1930 US Census shows Sarah still living at Windiknowe which had an official address of 569 Milburn Street in Evanston. She had reverted to using the last name of her first husband, "Brown". She had a "Guest" living with her, forty-five year old Birdie A. Olin. Sarah reported she was "Divorced." Birdie was "Single." Sarah reported that her house was not a farm, that it was worth $400,000 ($6.5 million today). Sarah had no occupation; neither did Birdie. They did, however own a radio.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">(Birdie A. Olin died May 22, 1931 at the age of forty-six. There was no Death Notice in any of the Chicago newspapers. She was buried May 25, 1931 in the Olin Family Plot at Chicago's Graceland Cemetery - Maplewood Section, Lot 161).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">All across the country the newspapers could not wait to report the next chapter in the Sarah Vowell Brown Deynzer saga. Here's the Chicago Tribune's version from October 21, 1931:</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpwYhiY6oAEvU2-ZZZWLSLttcJQcAFtXkm247Da1q_1raoOjvKock9yJid77YCHXJ7VO2F0wfi-9vejRU_TWdPNrqR8wncEl5kYf6l2G2dmWXxrHShGA4LssK-WoX0OMYHlYx-5KutaRfKLhFvfqZT9sOfM89rVsD-r_UOvs1PoeS48cDzoUUvjIwu6w/s890/Wils%20Marriage.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="890" data-original-width="535" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpwYhiY6oAEvU2-ZZZWLSLttcJQcAFtXkm247Da1q_1raoOjvKock9yJid77YCHXJ7VO2F0wfi-9vejRU_TWdPNrqR8wncEl5kYf6l2G2dmWXxrHShGA4LssK-WoX0OMYHlYx-5KutaRfKLhFvfqZT9sOfM89rVsD-r_UOvs1PoeS48cDzoUUvjIwu6w/w384-h640/Wils%20Marriage.JPG" width="384" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And here's a photo of the happy couple:</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhno8j5-Z7Ysxs1etQV8dI-so1eWlNJHQBCuQZAmtzdRFD7_ygzh1Gaw_ltBVtZIxXHtlgXgmad_xXzVVsaKLlCD2t0v_m1jn2DLutYm9r4VnyvZ6IGK-QSXWCToU2NNcIyhP2NZnzjqIBx_2KmPUajRxjlQS-B4B0BhqpxvhUntg86tIKaaLP0-d6hjQ/s1600/Photo-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1206" data-original-width="1600" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhno8j5-Z7Ysxs1etQV8dI-so1eWlNJHQBCuQZAmtzdRFD7_ygzh1Gaw_ltBVtZIxXHtlgXgmad_xXzVVsaKLlCD2t0v_m1jn2DLutYm9r4VnyvZ6IGK-QSXWCToU2NNcIyhP2NZnzjqIBx_2KmPUajRxjlQS-B4B0BhqpxvhUntg86tIKaaLP0-d6hjQ/w518-h390/Photo-1.jpg" width="518" /></a> </div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Before we check in on the honeymooners, let's see what we can dig up about Husband #3, Harry C. Wils.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Harry Carl Wils was born on St. Valentine's Day, February 14, 1902 in South Bend, Indiana. He was the only child of Arthur C. Wils (1869-1952) and Johanna Fenske (1876-1946). Arthur Wils was a Teamster, but later in life he took a job as an elevator operator in an office building.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I was unable to find the Wils family in the 1910 US Census, so we get our first look at young Harry Wils in the 1920 US Census. </span><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The 1920 US Census finds seventeen year old Harry living with his parents at 2120 Cleveland Avenue in Chicago: </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYMyYA6yKZ8bAwl45RS_WMHgo-mlasw8PmtdxkjmrPATSn-ifr4S45S8aCPypmc-JcmCKGHy4GfifpJa-2xGMipBrAc61QZ5f7tcIeMpBTVqWKe2J8jnI_JF7ksewhRk4yYgri-K16twa9AmSntm_Q562SE_c99RUyHfUb6OlHhHn7IGgvooIGcDFILg/s543/2120%20N.%20Cleveland,%20chicago.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="543" data-original-width="496" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYMyYA6yKZ8bAwl45RS_WMHgo-mlasw8PmtdxkjmrPATSn-ifr4S45S8aCPypmc-JcmCKGHy4GfifpJa-2xGMipBrAc61QZ5f7tcIeMpBTVqWKe2J8jnI_JF7ksewhRk4yYgri-K16twa9AmSntm_Q562SE_c99RUyHfUb6OlHhHn7IGgvooIGcDFILg/w584-h640/2120%20N.%20Cleveland,%20chicago.JPG" width="584" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2120 N. Cleveland, Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">His father Arthur is fifty years old; his mother Johanna is forty-three. Both are naturalized American citizens. They were renting their apartment. Arthur is an elevator operator in an Office Building. All three of them speak English. </div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On August 31, 1924 Harry Wils married Helen L. Graves (1905-1929) in Indiana. The bride was eighteen; the groom was twenty-two. Helen was 1/32 Cherokee Indian.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Harry and Helen were blessed with a son, Harry Lee Wils (1925-1977). He was born in Chicago on September 23, 1925.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Helen Graves Wils died in Chicago on January 19, 1929 from heart disease complicated by pneumonia. She was twenty-three years old. Here is her Death Certificate:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJvC9kPbodurGowvJppcuGbscNZHaT4JtQ_R7fOejLWvxHXTRovulaXQJHuEYHMt5jrp9ecl2smxL2MpcxLcAPfsjgtJvp-RCJaYOCtC8Is6R8-kJYOC81z2GDy3m8CAnhGub55aPf_pvEa5U8fN53ireIZSsfdOM1jXyFrye4jExhSwkWp4Z_Pi4YHQ/s1952/Helen%20Graves%20Wils%20death%2019%20Jan%201929.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1877" data-original-width="1952" height="616" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJvC9kPbodurGowvJppcuGbscNZHaT4JtQ_R7fOejLWvxHXTRovulaXQJHuEYHMt5jrp9ecl2smxL2MpcxLcAPfsjgtJvp-RCJaYOCtC8Is6R8-kJYOC81z2GDy3m8CAnhGub55aPf_pvEa5U8fN53ireIZSsfdOM1jXyFrye4jExhSwkWp4Z_Pi4YHQ/w640-h616/Helen%20Graves%20Wils%20death%2019%20Jan%201929.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Interestingly her Death Certificate said she was "Divorced." Not according to her Death Notice from the Chicago Tribune of 20 Jan 1929:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO6fmry-jOjUc89WlKTXaPc0Gmy56vKsTdXG2lRjPJ6U7AXHBUWiLbzgPJkAkDSVHEJTDP73iWkK1S1s2xdB7dZfs0Ex1R0eeRZfa5h4Ka8cJ_yc_vE2a8RuM1Z5xOOZYc5MUNcoSdTtw_O5lAjE7-LgyXC9hZMpqgslZFPURapq3e1ZwGuKncoRWVbA/s996/Wils,%20helen%20Graves%20Death%20Notice.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="293" data-original-width="996" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO6fmry-jOjUc89WlKTXaPc0Gmy56vKsTdXG2lRjPJ6U7AXHBUWiLbzgPJkAkDSVHEJTDP73iWkK1S1s2xdB7dZfs0Ex1R0eeRZfa5h4Ka8cJ_yc_vE2a8RuM1Z5xOOZYc5MUNcoSdTtw_O5lAjE7-LgyXC9hZMpqgslZFPURapq3e1ZwGuKncoRWVbA/w583-h172/Wils,%20helen%20Graves%20Death%20Notice.JPG" width="583" /></a><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Even though her Death Notice said she was to be buried in Rosehill Cemetery, she currently rests next to her parents in the South Side Cemetery, Pontiac, Illinois:</div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2cmWiPpS5zz3hseEznglJFv_nGT-B1C6KdHGrgyybu4bO5MQ2X8vVkZau7WzxW876AGF_in2vwxNHsFbVly_Se0gRODiKXDV-m1cZiuyE_GB-OJTPLIGAgUIu0Vg7CXtR5-lEEGNSddB5wn2Mo_yxmpe7QuLCw3qmN7D0eFzBAS8wIqMCRyyZ6-0Guw/s467/Wils,%20Helen%20Tombstone.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="274" data-original-width="467" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2cmWiPpS5zz3hseEznglJFv_nGT-B1C6KdHGrgyybu4bO5MQ2X8vVkZau7WzxW876AGF_in2vwxNHsFbVly_Se0gRODiKXDV-m1cZiuyE_GB-OJTPLIGAgUIu0Vg7CXtR5-lEEGNSddB5wn2Mo_yxmpe7QuLCw3qmN7D0eFzBAS8wIqMCRyyZ6-0Guw/w400-h235/Wils,%20Helen%20Tombstone.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photo courtesy of Find a Grave volunteer RWCNAC</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">So, by the time of the 1930 US Census, Harry Wils is a widower with a son. He has moved back in with his parents in their apartment at 1430 W. Thome Avenue in Chicago. </div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibJjuqICrXuJcGcJSNlaA9QECHIsLg7jfwBwvEFIOVZiRXIO8wRwVdcIXALAfvHmM5GBsZmfUF345ntNXYdFArt1aZmvyOHv1bw82CXLgKEYXUKFVZ316ojc2oExUPHpEkVQxMDccf-TTyqFoiVW5x0tPdQLYN2WzikLI2Wpy8qQM3LbVo0jaEVXeTbg/s1280/1430%20w%20thome%20chicago.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibJjuqICrXuJcGcJSNlaA9QECHIsLg7jfwBwvEFIOVZiRXIO8wRwVdcIXALAfvHmM5GBsZmfUF345ntNXYdFArt1aZmvyOHv1bw82CXLgKEYXUKFVZ316ojc2oExUPHpEkVQxMDccf-TTyqFoiVW5x0tPdQLYN2WzikLI2Wpy8qQM3LbVo0jaEVXeTbg/w502-h334/1430%20w%20thome%20chicago.jpg" width="502" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1430 W. Thome, Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">The rent for the apartment is $82.50 per month ($1,337.00 in today's funds). Harry's father is now sixty years old and an elevator operator in a hotel. His mother is fifty-four, Harry is twenty-eight and his son is four years old. Harry reports his occupation as "Selling Automobiles." Other sources report that Harry Wils was a salesman for the Packard Motor Car Company of Chicago.</div></span><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In the fall of 1931, twenty-nine year old Harry C. Wils, a widower with a four old son, called on sixty-seven year old Sarah Vowell Brown Deynzer Brown to try to sell her a Packard automobile. Instead, she married Wils, and gave him the Packard as a wedding present. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sarah referred to Harry as a "former Notre Dame football player." I could not find any evidence that Harry attended Notre Dame or played football there. (More on this later.) Newspapers referred to Sarah as the "aged heiress" or the "grandmother bride." But, Sarah had plans for Harry, as reported in the Chicago Tribune from October 22, 1931:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJThUwzvSBfQ4fyzBC_-S6JMJN77_nM61buGVB64wTLFPhV7hmmrb2BsbVxS090Nf4ScSobHdg4Q5e2teKkDJ3Kg7geNSTTIjFwkWfQeRXE2yDM549KpNTo_4uYomYEcuA8rjIbIR8LHmeHyE88dXGo-M4Q5hA_kbrbZbWYwfLhv8RGGtAPXqo0IIx9A/s899/Plans.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="533" height="770" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJThUwzvSBfQ4fyzBC_-S6JMJN77_nM61buGVB64wTLFPhV7hmmrb2BsbVxS090Nf4ScSobHdg4Q5e2teKkDJ3Kg7geNSTTIjFwkWfQeRXE2yDM549KpNTo_4uYomYEcuA8rjIbIR8LHmeHyE88dXGo-M4Q5hA_kbrbZbWYwfLhv8RGGtAPXqo0IIx9A/w457-h770/Plans.JPG" width="457" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sarah did have a sense of humor. In a different article reporting her marriage #3, she referred to Jack Deynzer, husband #2 as a "bath curtain manufacturer." </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">How did the newlyweds get along? "Their love was the real McCoy," reported the Shamokin, PA News-Dispatch from July 1, 1932 as they approached their first anniversary:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3bKBwkW6XvSgBL-OAwHB2dhzpqYxpiOJXnV9AQTZd8bT9Hf1i_UsuNl3yxvpHs4_YplG7QWf6stm4GTfFqG5PYyvZeLey36ggqTAkQkYq4SfFhIlv8YzbwUBKpbSm0ua5U6Ps85BaxUYrwGRbJmSk5bpXXh3sYJtbfRl3tjr4swhyDT6UuOYfu5SO8w/s565/Happy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="565" data-original-width="468" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3bKBwkW6XvSgBL-OAwHB2dhzpqYxpiOJXnV9AQTZd8bT9Hf1i_UsuNl3yxvpHs4_YplG7QWf6stm4GTfFqG5PYyvZeLey36ggqTAkQkYq4SfFhIlv8YzbwUBKpbSm0ua5U6Ps85BaxUYrwGRbJmSk5bpXXh3sYJtbfRl3tjr4swhyDT6UuOYfu5SO8w/w530-h640/Happy.JPG" width="530" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">In a 1934 article in the Shreveport (LA) Times about older women who married younger men, Harry finally revealed what had attracted him to Sarah. It was not the size of her wallet, it was the size of her ankles. "She had slender ankles," he revealed. And the article went on to say that "They're living happily in Evanston today." </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Other than an occasional mention, Sarah and Harry Wils managed to keep their names out of the the newspapers. This was a refreshing change of pace, especially for Sarah who spent most of the 1920s being mentioned for her hair-brained development schemes for her lakefront estate "Windiknowe." She had proposed building "A Tent-Colony" for tenants forced into paying too much rent, "An Indian Temple" consisting of thirty-four distinct homes modeled after an an Indian temple whose builders were killed to keep them from divulging the temple's secrets, and finally a "$1,000,000 Unusual Apartment Building" overlooking the lake with roof gardens, a private park and with "many club and hotel features." Needless to say, the Evanston Zoning Board rejected all of these proposals after countless complaints from her millionaire neighbors. One of her schemes went all the way to the Illinois Supreme Court, who ultimately sided with the Evanston Zoning Board in rejecting her proposal. Would that Evanston's zoning was still as strict today.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">However on May 9, 1937 it was revealed in the Chicago Tribune that Sarah Vowell Brown Deynzer Brown Wils had sold "Windiknowe" to noted developer C. A. Hemphill and Associates who planned to raze the cadmium-yellow "castle" and replace it with a series of luxury homes, four with riparian rights:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1_3E3PWv7SsWNT20daIEGkujbyxLfdefRPhaIVs5wOcY42kIcXUMxKalIRIfCfjgZnO7G4hMXe5C18pGrhREO0VsbYwSTsopcHM2PnFURk756WW40RvsYEiCkh4l5ifaX2twqCjwCT-f1eokF6srEtp00XcMFNoTB9hKyIIQaeF2E2K4iWVeE-P48yQ/s1061/Hemphill.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1061" data-original-width="548" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1_3E3PWv7SsWNT20daIEGkujbyxLfdefRPhaIVs5wOcY42kIcXUMxKalIRIfCfjgZnO7G4hMXe5C18pGrhREO0VsbYwSTsopcHM2PnFURk756WW40RvsYEiCkh4l5ifaX2twqCjwCT-f1eokF6srEtp00XcMFNoTB9hKyIIQaeF2E2K4iWVeE-P48yQ/w330-h640/Hemphill.JPG" width="330" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It turns out that very quietly (for Sarah) in 1935, Sarah and Harry moved out of Windiknowe but stayed in Evanston. They rented an apartment at a very well-known building in Evanston - the first one north of Calvary Cemetery on Sheridan Road:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZpzYHThyK_SHab9TLAMUtypg-sxM0SGiRGCYmMXfkzyxTsib4amrUkBE9XYeRJwdabxVt-5fKQlA25hfvxPc4g4TFYs3Lq-oVjrgVnj4bTwHd919SvclcsKx21bK-UPKy5RDk0TX8zTA8nbbbVxHnZ122ZpEu4mfu-a7_3ONTWA-pC-LccYwJWgQMQ/s1280/474%20Sheridan%20Road,%20Evanston.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="734" data-original-width="1280" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZpzYHThyK_SHab9TLAMUtypg-sxM0SGiRGCYmMXfkzyxTsib4amrUkBE9XYeRJwdabxVt-5fKQlA25hfvxPc4g4TFYs3Lq-oVjrgVnj4bTwHd919SvclcsKx21bK-UPKy5RDk0TX8zTA8nbbbVxHnZ122ZpEu4mfu-a7_3ONTWA-pC-LccYwJWgQMQ/w553-h318/474%20Sheridan%20Road,%20Evanston.jpg" width="553" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">474 Sheridan Road, Evanston</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>But now Sarah had a Herculean task to accomplish. She had to decide what to keep and what to get rid of. She had to downsize from a "castle" where she had lived for forty years to an apartment - a spacious apartment without a doubt, but not a castle. Finally in September of 1937 she was ready to announce her "estate" sale:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjizL7eStR0g9d9-dXaG7SrwlMOsZ1P3vRPBHlYdctsiZBG27tbpsXPeGIWqeIcz6tN6HvvzFnUCEJtBK44tm19soxwJfUFoGfBnMC1mPxFkKkDhBZ7Vzdx8L6vI_023Ugd3y4xNPckNrBYb0mEnUXKpUzTfRxnrgykNcjM1vIpVeJb_sE5TQIMC4VIyQ/s785/Estate%20sale.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="408" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjizL7eStR0g9d9-dXaG7SrwlMOsZ1P3vRPBHlYdctsiZBG27tbpsXPeGIWqeIcz6tN6HvvzFnUCEJtBK44tm19soxwJfUFoGfBnMC1mPxFkKkDhBZ7Vzdx8L6vI_023Ugd3y4xNPckNrBYb0mEnUXKpUzTfRxnrgykNcjM1vIpVeJb_sE5TQIMC4VIyQ/w332-h640/Estate%20sale.JPG" width="332" /></a></div><br />Not only could you buy one (or more) of her treasures, you could wander the halls of Windiknowe before it was razed by Hemphill. I bet there were hundreds of people in line when the doors opened. (I would have gone - even just to get a look at the interior of Windiknowe). </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span>The 1940 US Census gives us a wealth of information about Sarah and Harry and puts to rest a persistent myth about Harry. The Census reports that Sarah and Harry were living in an apartment they rented at 474 Sheridan Road in Evanston. Their rent was $120.00 per month ($2,390 per month today). Where is Harry's son Harry Lee Wils? He is not living with Harry and Sarah. It turns out that fourteen year old Harry Lee was living with his grandfather - Harry'</span>s father - in an apartment at 4406 Magnolia in Chicago. Furthermore, Harry Lee said that the Magnolia apartment was the same place he was living in 1935! It appears that when Harry and Sarah left Windiknowe for their Sheridan Road apartment Harry Lee went to live with his grandfather. Was Sarah a wicked step-mother? I could see that...</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">In virtually every report of Sarah and Harry's marriage in 1931, the newspapers stated that Harry Wils had been a football player when he attended Notre Dame. That is 100% false. I mentioned above that I was unable to find any evidence that Harry Wils had actually attended Notre Dame. Harry confirmed my suspicions when he told the census taker in 1940 that the limit of his education was 4 years of high school. You cannot play football for Notre Dame if you were not a student there. Sarah probably said "You have broad shoulders and are from Indiana. We'll say that you attended Notre Dame and played football there." Or maybe Harry lied to Sarah and said he had played football at Notre Dame - we'll never know. It was much easier to make up stories about your life in the pre-internet era. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here's another whopper from the 1940 Census. Sarah told the census taker that she was fifty years old when in reality she was </span><b><span style="font-size: large;">seventy-six</span></b><span style="font-size: medium;">! Many people through the years lied about their ages to the census takers, but few would trim 26 years off of their age. Harry correctly reported that he was thirty-seven.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Harry reported that he was an "Agent for Real Estate" and that he had earned $5,000 the previous year ($102,680 in todays dollars). Sarah reported that she had "Other Income" but did not say how much.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When you are doing genealogy research you need to remember that people could tell the census taker anything they wanted without furnishing proof or penalty for mis-information. Be very careful if you intend to use census data as backup for your genealogy research. It is notoriously unreliable.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <span> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sarah Vowell Brown Deynzer Brown Wils died on January 25, 1946. She was eighty-one years, seven months and five days old. She and Harry had proved everyone wrong - they stayed married until her death. Here is her Death Certificate:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR8NGZAui37oofahE6M7gjEfqGM9_nXg3TCuFqsUtrB9ssW2PVtjTZHmfshAm6comrDFu_c0csVMIhcS07ZFPaCPBDl_CpRTbm_f2nRxxaPaNp9RxO0mkg_kPkIGn6xKO9O4viAiWv5-buGaGezRJkZV_U5XP0RyAcArogizWruSf1GPLC2yCT80k8fg/s1750/Death%20rcord%20for%20Sarah%20Vowell%20brown-Wils%2025%20Jan%201946.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1639" data-original-width="1750" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR8NGZAui37oofahE6M7gjEfqGM9_nXg3TCuFqsUtrB9ssW2PVtjTZHmfshAm6comrDFu_c0csVMIhcS07ZFPaCPBDl_CpRTbm_f2nRxxaPaNp9RxO0mkg_kPkIGn6xKO9O4viAiWv5-buGaGezRJkZV_U5XP0RyAcArogizWruSf1GPLC2yCT80k8fg/w640-h600/Death%20rcord%20for%20Sarah%20Vowell%20brown-Wils%2025%20Jan%201946.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here is Sarah's Death Notice from the Chicago Tribune of 28 Jan 1946:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="217" data-original-width="965" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_8wk5c3qP9mFnbWIBZ3eYc7EzY9xx8er8_dg-S-9pBwdAo-PVg5uP1fL_Hd5R4Lq0xu9qrZrvSNlqC7XxwarYItg5hbuJlrEHZnfp11rFvBOzFMp7tCBixTm1qTC8KMkCgXHjADLFy7qg4yyAkn3zUG2CwRt-dLSzncWdnzXMfa4cKZdZfiL7a25vrA/w662-h149/sarah%20Death%20Notice.JPG" width="662" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">No mention is made in her Death Notice of her step-son, Harry Lee Wils.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sarah was buried next to her first husband in the plot she bought at Graceland Cemetery, Chicago (Maplewood Section - Lot: 63 Ex.S. Grave: 4):</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNNa5c4Y_JAleh7qTGeC-7hr0GICfSDRD2vSncdmc99C0qpRn40Z01l168okaPo9GlgcUiZjwt9nt5wbSrekJ_MxWJVSDUL0oS25RgvK-uxXpfDtwMeX28Feo-9uXwxzpigs8mVZnBAvczWm1mpdi7Ewade3dKJvUKcc9dpi1Ow7U4mtApgS_jhZq19Q/s2434/Sarah%20tombstone.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1432" data-original-width="2434" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNNa5c4Y_JAleh7qTGeC-7hr0GICfSDRD2vSncdmc99C0qpRn40Z01l168okaPo9GlgcUiZjwt9nt5wbSrekJ_MxWJVSDUL0oS25RgvK-uxXpfDtwMeX28Feo-9uXwxzpigs8mVZnBAvczWm1mpdi7Ewade3dKJvUKcc9dpi1Ow7U4mtApgS_jhZq19Q/w400-h235/Sarah%20tombstone.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKiizDO3riRzWznIRcDqKuKbv8dHxcanRbdUTSyGMh0XkEcHXhTirVzoKbc-x9K3dwflj7JfSQNH2jLo8TAqkcX2G77FDbj4FpzSNBcdjl9LCY8GnzAEaUJtPBRGSd8yoOJPrH4N6QTQODFaaXArStyReoJ6jlwQDcMqjhZJYN-_caLD6IsLgnJyDMwA/s1306/Sarah%20Plot.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="979" data-original-width="1306" height="417" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKiizDO3riRzWznIRcDqKuKbv8dHxcanRbdUTSyGMh0XkEcHXhTirVzoKbc-x9K3dwflj7JfSQNH2jLo8TAqkcX2G77FDbj4FpzSNBcdjl9LCY8GnzAEaUJtPBRGSd8yoOJPrH4N6QTQODFaaXArStyReoJ6jlwQDcMqjhZJYN-_caLD6IsLgnJyDMwA/w557-h417/Sarah%20Plot.jpeg" width="557" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">What happened to Sarah's husband and stepson after her death? Harry remained in the Sheridan Road apartment building but moved to a different apartment - 482 Sheridan Road. In 1946, forty-four year old Harry Carl Wils married twenty-two year old Millicent Edythe Schinkoeth (1924-2001). It was the third marriage for Harry, and the first marriage for Millicent. Newspapers reported that Millicent had worked as a model for the Coca-Cola Company in 1941 and was the last ''Yes'' Girl. They also reported that she was Miss Chicago in 1941 and 1942. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On March 8, 1947 Harry and Millicent were blessed with a son Donald L. Wils (1947-1990). </span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Harry and Millicent went on to have a total of seven children together.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"> </span></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1950 US Census reported that Harry returned to selling automobiles. The details of Sarah's estate are not available but we can assume she left him well cared for. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Harry Carl Wils died on June 06, 1990. Here is his Death Notice from the Chicago Tribune from June 06, 1990:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiczcHOrgKL03xDrV4uDj5tb_w8eVfDyRKBGBQSCbZakPTTgnvL3D7G2zfNp_riqt3ZhSrpIXmzAuFFQLzb3GY78X1zHGkhdJo0QwLpLB-ebe3cmYlxwM4aRY5Msvj9gP3qO8XJhOcpl2Fu_GXvPLGwAfmRu-AlmiblOnFM067WJcxniWDnDD_YBgj_6A/s823/Wils,%20Harry%20Death%20Notice.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="456" data-original-width="823" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiczcHOrgKL03xDrV4uDj5tb_w8eVfDyRKBGBQSCbZakPTTgnvL3D7G2zfNp_riqt3ZhSrpIXmzAuFFQLzb3GY78X1zHGkhdJo0QwLpLB-ebe3cmYlxwM4aRY5Msvj9gP3qO8XJhOcpl2Fu_GXvPLGwAfmRu-AlmiblOnFM067WJcxniWDnDD_YBgj_6A/w539-h298/Wils,%20Harry%20Death%20Notice.JPG" width="539" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The location of Harry C. Wils' grave is unknown.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now you know all about Evanston's own "cougar" Sarah Vowell Brown Deynzer Brown Wils. Quite an interesting tale. The rich really are different. May she, Edwin Brown, Jack Deynzer and Harry Wils, rest in peace. </span></p></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-14913044718599175282022-05-01T05:44:00.000-07:002022-05-01T05:44:11.867-07:00EVANSTON'S RICHEST WOMAN (68) ELOPES WITH CAR SALESMAN (29) - Part Two - Sarah Vowell Brown and Jack Deynzer<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">If you have not already read Part One of this tale, you should read it before reading Part Two:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://undereverytombstone.blogspot.com/2022/04/evanstons-richest-woman-68-elopes-with.html"><span style="font-size: medium;">https://undereverytombstone.blogspot.com/2022/04/evanstons-richest-woman-68-elopes-with.html</span></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Part One tells the story of the first marriage of Sarah Vowell. In 1885 Sarah (Sadie) Vowell married Renaissance man Edwin F. Brown. Although they spent the last five years of their marriage apart, there was a death-bed reconciliation just before Brown's death on February 15, 1912. With a Last Will and Testament executed just two days before he died, Edwin Brown left his widow $3 million ($87.7 million today).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I ended Part One with the query "</span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">What did Sarah do with her sizable inheritance?" This month we will find out.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">At the beginning of her widowhood, Sarah Vowell Brown did not change her lifestyle much at all. She remained in the cadmium-yellow main house of her lakefront estate "Windiknowe", although she did have Edwin Brown's barge the "Driftwood" pulled to shore and placed on Sheridan Road just south of the Evanston lighthouse. Sarah then had the barge turned into a honeymoon cottage for her daughter Lucille and Lucille's first husband Ira Jay Ingraham after their marriage on June 12, 1912.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">History tells us that 57 year old Sarah Vowell Brown met 25 year old John George "Jack" Deynzer of Bloomington, Illinois when he called on her to sell her some oil stocks. After a "whirlwind" twenty-four day courtship, they were married March 18, 1921 at Windiknowe. Here's how Deynzer's home town newspaper (The Bloomington (IL) Pantagraph) reported it in their edition of March 23, 1921:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBSuDut0fTTgq5zY8h5Mf_sNR9_oT1zEQ6faZ595z0PCymK3CBH6v1WggRSZ-MnoG3NUred4ihOAsh4QpdEGumIvbYl5NKwwvQ2AQLFnfvDZwPIbiVcnR8YQKAu4ASdxe1j68t5ZaDxc9y414D9ZBSGZ2HVf5PXdHE_9RRvoaCFBNiSlob3I6ppg2x2w/s862/Marriage-1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="862" data-original-width="519" height="736" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBSuDut0fTTgq5zY8h5Mf_sNR9_oT1zEQ6faZ595z0PCymK3CBH6v1WggRSZ-MnoG3NUred4ihOAsh4QpdEGumIvbYl5NKwwvQ2AQLFnfvDZwPIbiVcnR8YQKAu4ASdxe1j68t5ZaDxc9y414D9ZBSGZ2HVf5PXdHE_9RRvoaCFBNiSlob3I6ppg2x2w/w444-h736/Marriage-1.JPG" width="444" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="71" data-original-width="519" height="60" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqLliQtA0mq80qnBpZbOx0Upa6GNXBgCG0XnN_s5VHsz_4VPpPLneEpf3TmdDr_Iwa3nsVEsg1EZN148PIWd8gI6DKSp9QmnEnaAgW74b2owVPFnqTnptiwBL6Zb8vNEow5jS_XUniFhmea424h61dk0fLsmLFh4PEtdyAoKK08c1ru8djYIx6Mkto1g/w441-h60/Marriage%20%232.JPG" width="441" /></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Before we look into their marital bliss, let's see what we can "dig up" about Jack Deynzer.</span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">John George Deynzer was born May 20, 1896 in Bloomington, Illinois, the son of Oscar M. Deynzer (1904-1939) and Anna Bayer (1868-1942). Jack Denyzer was the third of eight children born to Oscar and Anna. The offspring were: Lucy/Mrs. Roy Schifflet (1891-1960), Bertha/Mrs. Edward McKern (1892-1979), Jack (1896-1983), Flora/Mrs. Gilbert Perry (1901-1987), Oscar (1902-1939), Malvin (1907-1972), Orville (1910-1970) and Josephine (1914- ????). Oscar Deynzer was a blacksmith by trade. The family homestead was at 1312 W. Chestnut in Bloomington, Illinois. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFbrNBQnRv-hfjt2z9lhg0q_bNiLWMpGMA-2IxPVhUqDquQ2PwDXgaIAr_8GX35o1fhiAVVUovCruRJSghJ7LNkPVTzBTMCrKfQJ3mrLj_33rtThiNsnKrbIUE4Q6MDjfxV0hz3xo139t9JsxWfAJosC7C7K9QdZ6TG727POsEHKBBMdGHP9ezdYfkJQ/s499/1312%20W.%20Chestnut,%20Bloomington,%20IL.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="355" data-original-width="499" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFbrNBQnRv-hfjt2z9lhg0q_bNiLWMpGMA-2IxPVhUqDquQ2PwDXgaIAr_8GX35o1fhiAVVUovCruRJSghJ7LNkPVTzBTMCrKfQJ3mrLj_33rtThiNsnKrbIUE4Q6MDjfxV0hz3xo139t9JsxWfAJosC7C7K9QdZ6TG727POsEHKBBMdGHP9ezdYfkJQ/w640-h456/1312%20W.%20Chestnut,%20Bloomington,%20IL.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1312 W. Chestnut, Bloomington, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">The 1913 City Directory for Bloomington, Illinois shows seventeen year old Jack living at the family homestead, and working as a "Porter" for Humphreys & Co., wholesale grocers.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Like all young men of that era, Jack Deynzer was required to register for the draft in 1917-1918. Unfortunately Jack's registration is not dated. It shows Jack as 21 years old and still living at the family home in Bloomington. He lists his occupation as "Trav. Salesman Wilson Grocery Co., Peoria, Ill." It also describes him as Medium height, Medium build, with brown eyes and black hair. Finally, it said he was not bald, and had no visible disabilities. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As the war dragged on, Jack decided not to sit on the sidelines any longer and enlisted in the US Navy. He served from January 14, 1918 to December 18, 1918. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I was unable to find Deynzer in the 1920 US Census. He is no longer living in the family home in Bloomington, but I was unable to find him anywhere else. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After coming home from his military service, he must have changed occupations, because the newspaper reported that at the time of their marriage, Jack Deynzer was "vice president and general manager of the Neuces Oil & Gas Corporation of Illinois." The internet reports that the Neuces Oil & Gas Company was organized in October of 1920, but it is no longer an active corporation.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So, dashing young Jack Deynzer called on the woman described as "Evanston's wealthiest," to sell her some securities, and after a whirlwind courtship they marry. Jack must have thought he had won the lottery as he moved into Sarah's "castle" on Lake Michigan just south of the Evanston Lighthouse. He probably figured that Sarah would be lavishing expensive gifts on him, and that his every whim would be addressed by either his wife or her servants. Is that what happened? </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">At the beginning Jack and Sarah seemed to work together as a team as they looked for creative ways for Sarah to spend her money. One scheme was for them to turn Sarah's estate Windiknowe on the shore of Lake Michigan into a tent city for people they felt were being gouged by landlords. Here are the specifics from the Kansas City (MO) Times of April 25, 1921:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCL_JzRx7CW-NRA5WMLFcSSBplxvtNNhE8UM6CU6BpWD5DuT7sIwmzyQx6XE3aY032KYkNilEm5VIupnUDOU_sXpXWv_whX0_Wx8kDApGESUfHSaCB7ZLIEDhVt-6nwibbOOz1hm5eDGozZsalbkhConTRPoG4eUoTJXGAg56qweQ3rD3Qoc7C7mIesw/s945/Tent%20City.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="945" data-original-width="582" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCL_JzRx7CW-NRA5WMLFcSSBplxvtNNhE8UM6CU6BpWD5DuT7sIwmzyQx6XE3aY032KYkNilEm5VIupnUDOU_sXpXWv_whX0_Wx8kDApGESUfHSaCB7ZLIEDhVt-6nwibbOOz1hm5eDGozZsalbkhConTRPoG4eUoTJXGAg56qweQ3rD3Qoc7C7mIesw/s16000/Tent%20City.JPG" /></a></span></div><span style="text-align: left;"><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You can just imagine how this went over in stuffy Evanston, Illinois - especially among their Sheridan Road neighbors who were paying outrageous real estate taxes to not have to live near the great unwashed. Here's a photo of Sarah from a newspaper of the time:</span></div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyPq1m-7tAKQ4SEgmlh-V6sSFm8NUyQIEaOmXN2ChfUG3-7m3cX9Vn5QCyLYqwlQTE7jmOE36p5bS7G5AqWBOhZc3i7WgMR3fJ4WfP3hqIRv65wwlUTMARP8FzK3HqFSmA9aq5wu2T_gUUpNA5b3Vpgmc-JETgJ3J6gvS1NSb6vl1q5096a4TraGL7hg/s697/Rent%20Hogs.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="697" data-original-width="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyPq1m-7tAKQ4SEgmlh-V6sSFm8NUyQIEaOmXN2ChfUG3-7m3cX9Vn5QCyLYqwlQTE7jmOE36p5bS7G5AqWBOhZc3i7WgMR3fJ4WfP3hqIRv65wwlUTMARP8FzK3HqFSmA9aq5wu2T_gUUpNA5b3Vpgmc-JETgJ3J6gvS1NSb6vl1q5096a4TraGL7hg/s16000/Rent%20Hogs.JPG" /></a></span></div><span style="text-align: left;"><span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">By early 1922, the idea for the Tent City had been rejected by the Evanston City government, so Sarah and Jack came up with another plan. She would build an Indian Temple on her property. Here's the low-down from the Kansas City (MO) Star of March 12, 1922 (all of Sarah's hi-jinx were dutifully reported by newspapers nationwide):</span></p></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1159" data-original-width="568" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYoLjDFJ0SctwBOKawNYWjYTnM11T_n6Dd4Hl-bT2Id-qZD7qn9rXCTqo0I7w0oxp6EEb3nl_p-_ZDnKCoLh9TboQT59UgCKEzVv-H93YGSVHSc-QNihLszTfv1f5YLFOYREIBSov0TaAvY0_es3KTw9ApDP49I74jgEw5Fua-ci4kMpK35OhogLT5g/s16000/Temple-1a.JPG" /></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1275" data-original-width="566" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUDdVAPwXaHgicOPIu6V0VWr95bpS7NhPDN_CTUTqZJJY17V0YeDyOA_C2WnyIjSulVH3wDd8dK2DA2XZzEhf3-XK6p8vp0kwaMS90e8YheW_krIIB_Kx7euemh0bPieLG2X0EFYGnZJYYE5JLJjo5vUsmuDJtZNScuGosveitl7g_Hh_tBXmm6GyFXw/s16000/Temple-1b.JPG" /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="391" data-original-width="566" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZgyk-jADsgZeS6oulPotmycKNqX1wkHjkILqsim8DN6nEyOS3J--0oCF4cAWuA1FpqjLSS1rzQUXNSEEfF-KgoSRUrIk6y7Tmm_nOZdx_fdUAQbjgkHcBgY1Qm32poRl4KvAABoXnfRzowNSjNdqMq_TWtkpnbl-dyp88ownZ5LwEl0kP8q8K2nR5wQ/s16000/Temple-1C.JPG" /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="291" data-original-width="291" height="575" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5h6EVGnIoW_OJW7zoCU9SJwm_ENvBx6btZMiWf1hhd5ZsIgtvFKPxM8h3u9OwFdceJMUbfiQ1c_yeeGAihgbsf1cB-2ItZQigS2w9PwbmFWQQWQg01AzCEuwLmN_n1BAwLezSGCteb-6DxIDt6BMz6fiVctL9mB0azB_3nveou_J8bDvdpR4QPkaa0A/w575-h575/temple-2.JPG" width="575" /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="167" data-original-width="296" height="327" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvu5DY9RC9Tm1Z5EUv-uVeYjshp6Gw5Sh7AcT6K-a_Oz0CdyN7wcVeY56gRZitlm2KvS_GwIjX5SOoY8O7tvcup8ic-bSd5-FMknMMtLagFPksalhegAEPrI7uPnSvevUuE8mpiO7xMZgeThYqdo9B6t2236bIF_653aj6bukQf7KUErVb8r-tgRaa_A/w579-h327/Temple-3.JPG" width="579" /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="135" data-original-width="293" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYWd1c02WU29bJ38TjhEVUt5URTEqjqeLMDqnSo3d-xHQE1HcWew3TRoERkSn7ZWlnv7RwJPuXRioH3Us-qK65oiy3bAe6ET9D4jhcXkKst1pUOb_qBDZ5835ukW1bxva2utMbFFz0JatPV_DS5P3sHCoF5mjRSPfZ_gE3hfsaiNYs7CrvnxrwWu2ytQ/w583-h268/Temple-4.JPG" width="583" /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="51" data-original-width="291" height="104" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvmkgomqeTfhG_qXVIYBZg8WbOE8gyX_zjrMdMlyLLt7VnBNeZa7nz6t6qnC_swVuFgkHkEnWY2-a5AMG6e-HpzNCiVX9ZmzIS0bAYoUntQXVcrfn3UDuUmruSQ9enW2hvopxU12LES3JsGboIctKHHqF-ENpF3gQ6LksdlJwjHB17mM0Sf4UMNuGqqQ/w592-h104/Temple-5.JPG" width="592" /></span></div><span style="text-align: left;"><span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Not surprisingly, as mentioned above, "Millionaires have announced their opposition in any event." Not mentioned is the fact that in those days, Evanston, Illinois had one of the strictest zoning codes in the country. Many builders and developers (including Victor Carlson) fought the Evanston Zoning Board and lost. Sarah Deynzer was no fool. She knew her proposals had no chance of winning; she just loved to torment her neighbors and the Evanston City government.</span></p></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This idea was dead-on-arrival. But Sarah wasn't done yet. This is from the Chicago Tribune of June 08, 1922:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLoumgHtjZ6c1ik0UgIv8Ri425H1a72wAPiv_2EuKoptxWP1XeW20acbG5T06kHqQ52ZA1pMUnz-V1-AH7QNvqFsuRAEGZoud0PcMvCa6cYFMkfh95G3E5QCXjDTlxFEIr15m0Dor7mjhnfzgmLvJZFlvF38ww_pkP9fWJdKuPWitegSc4XS8LzQ31Q/s560/33%20Buildings.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="560" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLoumgHtjZ6c1ik0UgIv8Ri425H1a72wAPiv_2EuKoptxWP1XeW20acbG5T06kHqQ52ZA1pMUnz-V1-AH7QNvqFsuRAEGZoud0PcMvCa6cYFMkfh95G3E5QCXjDTlxFEIr15m0Dor7mjhnfzgmLvJZFlvF38ww_pkP9fWJdKuPWitegSc4XS8LzQ31Q/s16000/33%20Buildings.JPG" /></a></span></div><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">While all this was going on, how were the honeymooners getting along? Looks like there was trouble in Paradise. The first indication that everything was not all hunky-dunky at Windiknowe was this piece from the Bloomington Daily Pantagraph of 26 Jul, 1923:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXSyv-C7vRclM1Hbo_UF5HbarXIcgeetO66tMCLzIed3CsNCBaL0wAO4RfUJY6OZeJ2MAILQuPEkihmiIvUFc4YPtCyfw26_cPgnGlN2ruOpiaNAEk3swnGaTiv5GUscqEAJmJpmeDapvXHNRwOSHXfo14RWAnxJvWa72EyxPKFRu9g4vSewJ57O96w/s788/Deynzer%20trip.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="359" data-original-width="788" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXSyv-C7vRclM1Hbo_UF5HbarXIcgeetO66tMCLzIed3CsNCBaL0wAO4RfUJY6OZeJ2MAILQuPEkihmiIvUFc4YPtCyfw26_cPgnGlN2ruOpiaNAEk3swnGaTiv5GUscqEAJmJpmeDapvXHNRwOSHXfo14RWAnxJvWa72EyxPKFRu9g4vSewJ57O96w/w640-h292/Deynzer%20trip.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">You will note that there is no mention of Jack's wife, either visiting Jack's parents in Bloomington or taking an "extended motor trip in the east."</span></span><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">But Jack and Sarah were still together in April of 1924 when they made one last run at the Evanston Zoning Board:</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvZzftiMILQ3vdVoC0fuyz2HW8a3NviRRalcHfI91xvcmbI_XYeuAmp06g6NfGjjwIKARr2S-W34zaOyyTCV1sTE3MWybM5z3fFVp26LHtj9wl8A9HBdSqFNYBANzYHCKIjFALEU2mnWvulKPZwWkSlFMpDjC3YaQ8D8t8cb8bsvI_ZGN1UznG0L_bzQ/s899/Apartment-1.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="524" data-original-width="899" height="373" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvZzftiMILQ3vdVoC0fuyz2HW8a3NviRRalcHfI91xvcmbI_XYeuAmp06g6NfGjjwIKARr2S-W34zaOyyTCV1sTE3MWybM5z3fFVp26LHtj9wl8A9HBdSqFNYBANzYHCKIjFALEU2mnWvulKPZwWkSlFMpDjC3YaQ8D8t8cb8bsvI_ZGN1UznG0L_bzQ/w640-h373/Apartment-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIjDXAxngZ3BUgQPFXkjljW8lw26oJ2vc7_l1ZathG2tnI_TdwLnQy4-wu_LUzoPPOnZfuEHu-C4dY_UJ6fWbPHRdgx70g3UwKPm9bFm1DjLu7I0iSxrhxRaWcn_8mVAyKNOTa1XjN2dGmusg7DmoII4dcwWyijCf2Q6neWg2XzKirOz4X-Urc_lmkOQ/s1435/Apartmennt-2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1435" data-original-width="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIjDXAxngZ3BUgQPFXkjljW8lw26oJ2vc7_l1ZathG2tnI_TdwLnQy4-wu_LUzoPPOnZfuEHu-C4dY_UJ6fWbPHRdgx70g3UwKPm9bFm1DjLu7I0iSxrhxRaWcn_8mVAyKNOTa1XjN2dGmusg7DmoII4dcwWyijCf2Q6neWg2XzKirOz4X-Urc_lmkOQ/s16000/Apartmennt-2.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrSNYdcOkwkgXK3CmCkTxHcFOUmMoKkXwkwogK4tb-MeBr1IXxjvnFRxKHgf4yXrtYrscS-8Jv0ym9vf0u8xUy5WduNZlKxLbdPAKhEboCzJXwmOaDOx8HHoGrvjEbZV7QlOOGKjcThH6uhat7d4r18NVxOwti-p0Z0m9mtjWMZQxT6vkWvAKHOas7Hg/s473/Apartment-3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="473" data-original-width="453" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrSNYdcOkwkgXK3CmCkTxHcFOUmMoKkXwkwogK4tb-MeBr1IXxjvnFRxKHgf4yXrtYrscS-8Jv0ym9vf0u8xUy5WduNZlKxLbdPAKhEboCzJXwmOaDOx8HHoGrvjEbZV7QlOOGKjcThH6uhat7d4r18NVxOwti-p0Z0m9mtjWMZQxT6vkWvAKHOas7Hg/s16000/Apartment-3.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYiURiTuJ4Rqa4IBKJK7BklEMdcdKBErnJo-QDWvHcmszXvw7Mes_iVjQPw0A0Mp_9gwRB6SbY2Y0drKsZMQ6Tlt12ksMY3Guh2VTq0T8Do-UNCMuWQeDNAygggJjllxo5ReMIOshyovCFV7cyajHSU7bXWJ14K7svw5mMjuPXFnyQNvH_o1Qv7avTow/s434/Apartment-4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="196" data-original-width="434" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYiURiTuJ4Rqa4IBKJK7BklEMdcdKBErnJo-QDWvHcmszXvw7Mes_iVjQPw0A0Mp_9gwRB6SbY2Y0drKsZMQ6Tlt12ksMY3Guh2VTq0T8Do-UNCMuWQeDNAygggJjllxo5ReMIOshyovCFV7cyajHSU7bXWJ14K7svw5mMjuPXFnyQNvH_o1Qv7avTow/w456-h206/Apartment-4.JPG" width="456" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Needless to say, this proposal was also rejected by the Evanston Zoning Board.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">By September of 1924 Sarah had had enough of her "boy toy" and filed for divorce. </span>She had apparently locked Jack out of Windiknowe without letting him take his personal effects. So Deynzer did what any red-blooded American would do - he stormed the castle and was greeted by Sarah and her son-in-law both wielding pistols, and Sarah's daughter brandishing a tomahawk! The son-in-law mentioned is Lucille's second husband Roy H. Marshall, not her first husband Ira Jay Ingraham. Here's how the </span><span style="font-size: medium;">Chicago Tribune of September 9, 1924 covered it:</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHsxUXbvP9tzfIMrbtTL4br32lI-1TouP31SYni4Yx9rG4MsSgflzctgzgsWKHqcPDbHj3WxuVEA03mwUryTvfjGcCd-h8QEMsTUzj-US-nzZEco8bdFmiaRPwflaG5ldbyRXo9QH3NlpPJshtfKGir0makmCeblUh8NJ2k-5n2o18occ4JvsyroaJBg/s538/Revolver-1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="108" data-original-width="538" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHsxUXbvP9tzfIMrbtTL4br32lI-1TouP31SYni4Yx9rG4MsSgflzctgzgsWKHqcPDbHj3WxuVEA03mwUryTvfjGcCd-h8QEMsTUzj-US-nzZEco8bdFmiaRPwflaG5ldbyRXo9QH3NlpPJshtfKGir0makmCeblUh8NJ2k-5n2o18occ4JvsyroaJBg/w640-h128/Revolver-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBK_atyEQVuDZeeuzNg6QNSy0BMZ-kh56QflIER2XEBwWIRZYDIprArbA1rG2Nawhemv7FDtvGmHosPPo77qAfDbWYavq6M8mHqa8mVQxZcxei-tOq7T8ePOkKiclvFWWpdfyuU73gDYZn_vGYRIehZ-A_fyCz06kqJ3PZ6fodtpJsDSnaEDbdTDPIyw/s777/Revolver-2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="269" height="1153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBK_atyEQVuDZeeuzNg6QNSy0BMZ-kh56QflIER2XEBwWIRZYDIprArbA1rG2Nawhemv7FDtvGmHosPPo77qAfDbWYavq6M8mHqa8mVQxZcxei-tOq7T8ePOkKiclvFWWpdfyuU73gDYZn_vGYRIehZ-A_fyCz06kqJ3PZ6fodtpJsDSnaEDbdTDPIyw/w399-h1153/Revolver-2.JPG" width="399" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-cuA8gFdUx0hjLpzjIzWqh6oVOVZsIOqbO3UgT4jTrp29mWS3Joyj7mFiVezKQnEIFjxJdQCMrkrxhBJ32H3gh0RonyJwQXN_2jCSSEoMa8ssyrrZGtyk3lf0j9iu1DT5z_VJt7TDR4o_Y7B7D0dxJQZD5PRafbgVbbW2KuqoiFSA11uLw6gTuFhUg/s784/Revolver-3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="784" data-original-width="268" height="1196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-cuA8gFdUx0hjLpzjIzWqh6oVOVZsIOqbO3UgT4jTrp29mWS3Joyj7mFiVezKQnEIFjxJdQCMrkrxhBJ32H3gh0RonyJwQXN_2jCSSEoMa8ssyrrZGtyk3lf0j9iu1DT5z_VJt7TDR4o_Y7B7D0dxJQZD5PRafbgVbbW2KuqoiFSA11uLw6gTuFhUg/w409-h1196/Revolver-3.JPG" width="409" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVGlmu412XnfB8baybm8K7tH2NnPqpKMyR6B7D9DHSVGbCoHcvC8s6MwNOQJK-CiN1BNKVNVjofG6979BrvqvshuADqA100dn1nvuV6QmOumYQ1GIFKRNGeh9SrnE-sepmJ71JFmPaEefYyMV2gUN96Lalz7ZfXJTWLmViu14zBVY12S4evQblBu5suA/s842/Revolver-4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="842" data-original-width="546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVGlmu412XnfB8baybm8K7tH2NnPqpKMyR6B7D9DHSVGbCoHcvC8s6MwNOQJK-CiN1BNKVNVjofG6979BrvqvshuADqA100dn1nvuV6QmOumYQ1GIFKRNGeh9SrnE-sepmJ71JFmPaEefYyMV2gUN96Lalz7ZfXJTWLmViu14zBVY12S4evQblBu5suA/s16000/Revolver-4.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimJIL8TuLx6Ar7hueAkHWzgM72bnrqk1HUMpmMS4wflh8vkH1QGjcnuwuxjZsJnLZ5U11thxAkCtDgobBkrJsWhVxQShs-4uwdEbxadM0oeSTKyIDtV8njBvu2CWdFpqngQCGgV4SB5r__zW9mJf-gzkEzj2iwAXrvEdc9cpOws-vgSTj-GBVRbQywiA/s623/revolver-5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="623" data-original-width="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimJIL8TuLx6Ar7hueAkHWzgM72bnrqk1HUMpmMS4wflh8vkH1QGjcnuwuxjZsJnLZ5U11thxAkCtDgobBkrJsWhVxQShs-4uwdEbxadM0oeSTKyIDtV8njBvu2CWdFpqngQCGgV4SB5r__zW9mJf-gzkEzj2iwAXrvEdc9cpOws-vgSTj-GBVRbQywiA/s16000/revolver-5.JPG" /></a></div><span><div style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Jack now felt it was time to tell his side of the story. This is from the Garrett (IN) Clipper from 18 Sep 1924:</span></span></div><div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijqayu84nJC8_clAw2ldaN9UQ2fURXmSW54urTaYkq7XDqSFCKhjQXI9cS_b4KMoX2ZDZUTXtze4qFOv1SaSt7Dlpxui2oI1PNET6ohx6IlkCiKs7tqI0rSkrwCJhEbIFoIu-qVhngAm-_5yrpnMIB0uwH3v1WuFP94-gvbrYL6vluoz3fnO1aTHZHrg/s1548/Deynzer-1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1548" data-original-width="487" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijqayu84nJC8_clAw2ldaN9UQ2fURXmSW54urTaYkq7XDqSFCKhjQXI9cS_b4KMoX2ZDZUTXtze4qFOv1SaSt7Dlpxui2oI1PNET6ohx6IlkCiKs7tqI0rSkrwCJhEbIFoIu-qVhngAm-_5yrpnMIB0uwH3v1WuFP94-gvbrYL6vluoz3fnO1aTHZHrg/s16000/Deynzer-1.JPG" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1348" data-original-width="489" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgql8m26lPaQ2eO5uoqmu3iN0XVAMUKtrjhuZsny9YXjV3KHM-TV0a4uK2HSjXJIG_zlIM3kaikmqoI7awtr4E6OzB920FwmWg6yq0TIR0l1KDlnYD1wwbROE3cDz5z1B8C7uzry8ZYW75ZOFhhEcZ9XbFNyDCNfgP8rKUKe6TOCPzHNqXWjsHojFzE7g/s16000/Deynzer-2.JPG" /></span></div><span style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Now, according to the article, Jack was working for a "candy company."</span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jack Deynzer knew that he had no claim to Sarah's fortune, so instead he asked for 1/2 of the profits from the previous year's "real estate deals." </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Neither side was in the mood to settle, so the suit for divorce dragged through the Chicago courts year after year. The breaking point for Jack was Sarah's desire to own a custom built $11,000.00 limousine to be painted a Persian pink and have gold door knobs. The breaking point for Sarah was coming in on one of Jack's "Bathing Suit Parties" in their apartment. Every sordid detail was described in the press and the public loved it. This is from the Chicago Tribune of March 20, 1929:</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZvJN6YvmuBNm3b8GjpDZP9A_dSMopnex8THcv63uvASsR2GFUHT6gnKkJrsBkh8s7YaSmhNor5yhJe1OWVg8znuMCDYH_RWs0ejGQyUiI8scFpnZfvPwlkyqYAOu_pWMbkMzUYXbOY9lbkVLu3wp4YIUliCpU6gOura5p81AHopROMirmBnC-4ZABQ/s1579/Bathing%20Suit.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1579" data-original-width="348" height="1679" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZvJN6YvmuBNm3b8GjpDZP9A_dSMopnex8THcv63uvASsR2GFUHT6gnKkJrsBkh8s7YaSmhNor5yhJe1OWVg8znuMCDYH_RWs0ejGQyUiI8scFpnZfvPwlkyqYAOu_pWMbkMzUYXbOY9lbkVLu3wp4YIUliCpU6gOura5p81AHopROMirmBnC-4ZABQ/w370-h1679/Bathing%20Suit.JPG" width="370" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">The divorce of Sarah Vowell Brown Deynzer and John G. (Jack) Deynzer was not finalized until March 27, 1929:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivCOllmu50wFCGkPz-IA25AMapuEqztal7Uxp4CqnLJOJlKeuWR-VdDR7N96sSinCxt04GSnuSy_SxQkjMUIwJ9gI7St1C8hYIAk4euvaFW0HQwWSP3H14WJ4ODoDGyQGYFaZBM5zKCU_rQ7Tnp2QYlNxRRViGbmRLdiobUWhOAh5iLI1VbZsFC7lt_w/s711/Final.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="711" data-original-width="551" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivCOllmu50wFCGkPz-IA25AMapuEqztal7Uxp4CqnLJOJlKeuWR-VdDR7N96sSinCxt04GSnuSy_SxQkjMUIwJ9gI7St1C8hYIAk4euvaFW0HQwWSP3H14WJ4ODoDGyQGYFaZBM5zKCU_rQ7Tnp2QYlNxRRViGbmRLdiobUWhOAh5iLI1VbZsFC7lt_w/w496-h640/Final.JPG" width="496" /></a></span></span></div><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">So, this ends Part II of the story of Sarah Vowell Brown Deynzer. After all she went through, can we rest assured that she learned her lesson - that she would never again marry a boy toy who appeared at her door trying to sell her something - or would she?????</div></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Come back next month and find out.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">What about Jack Deynzer after the divorce? Did he run out and marry another wealthy woman twice his age? He did not. After his earlier careers in wholesale groceries, oil leases and candy, he finally found success as a restaurateur in the suburbs of Chicago. He owned and managed the Radio Club Farm Restaurant in Arlington Heights, and the Evergreen Supper Club in Palatine. He married Marion Hirst Park (1902-2000) in 1939 when she was thirty-seven and he was forty-three. From all reports it was a long and happy marriage. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">John G. Deynzer died in Boca Raton, Florida on October 5, 1983. He was eighty-seven. Here is his obituary from the Fort Lauderdale (FL) News of October 8, 1983:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijUJmXnxoQSN1M8VHsN-vguHDOfvT7jqABvg_YQiPi_JbMDKvbiR8Wq20VJ4BWHq6RbKZ1fvDJt_-WX1mnqogUfLqtgysDMPQRsJWe_xe3O6UYv0pOwpkFMFWff1KLwByZk5xBS9cSDWbAI2-vf0IXxp67cGfos3d935nYS2f0MRYnftGa3hjzkZjMFw/s431/Deynzer%20Obit.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="431" data-original-width="397" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijUJmXnxoQSN1M8VHsN-vguHDOfvT7jqABvg_YQiPi_JbMDKvbiR8Wq20VJ4BWHq6RbKZ1fvDJt_-WX1mnqogUfLqtgysDMPQRsJWe_xe3O6UYv0pOwpkFMFWff1KLwByZk5xBS9cSDWbAI2-vf0IXxp67cGfos3d935nYS2f0MRYnftGa3hjzkZjMFw/s320/Deynzer%20Obit.JPG" width="295" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There was no mention of his tempestuous first marriage. Deynzer is buried in the Cherry Valley Cemetery in Cherry Valley, Illinois. His second wife is buried next to him:</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRasjtxS3hKEyN6i9VIvPTbgcs7cpdQ2Ruqg7V4e7rK8yqyKASyXOdch325X6hfiuYwgAVrSZlOdO__mX4dSG5wNqmY7tUcCnPZ470GJNlUTO33lPChGlyFfgTGmU2tgTzxFbowoplWyP9p_jtpmuYf6kFi6f3JFG1aaobpJdc5bLHz4YqQNhpvWI0tQ/s2434/Deynzer%20Tombstone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="948" data-original-width="2434" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRasjtxS3hKEyN6i9VIvPTbgcs7cpdQ2Ruqg7V4e7rK8yqyKASyXOdch325X6hfiuYwgAVrSZlOdO__mX4dSG5wNqmY7tUcCnPZ470GJNlUTO33lPChGlyFfgTGmU2tgTzxFbowoplWyP9p_jtpmuYf6kFi6f3JFG1aaobpJdc5bLHz4YqQNhpvWI0tQ/s320/Deynzer%20Tombstone.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="text-align: left;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span> </span>DEYNZER</div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>John George<span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> Marion Park</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>May 20, 1896<span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> Jan 11, 1902 </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Oct 5, 1983<span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> Jan 21, 2000 </span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">May they rest in peace.</span></span></p></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-1976736836502093592022-04-01T05:49:00.002-07:002022-04-05T18:55:19.503-07:00EVANSTON'S RICHEST WOMAN (68) ELOPES WITH CAR SALESMAN (29) - Part One - Sarah Vowell and Edwin Franklin Brown<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Newspapers around the United States carried the following photo in their October 21, 1931 editions:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7sil6q2cBb2JDqWaaC9dpl1xLMuHkde70vm-AS4bUHWDqQPyLFolOeFfreeaY-uTRje6v-s8N5ZVmrlTwGr7peg8O4zM1l0sLWwf9sKWQhAYRNF3jxmuL8ihiMXSmZhQWijfGm7Q0k1CWL1WHJxR5fc6PEsoz9dV4Tj7caoYqbDTekRccQ2pgjHFSQ/s1600/Photo-1%20(2).jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1206" data-original-width="1600" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7sil6q2cBb2JDqWaaC9dpl1xLMuHkde70vm-AS4bUHWDqQPyLFolOeFfreeaY-uTRje6v-s8N5ZVmrlTwGr7peg8O4zM1l0sLWwf9sKWQhAYRNF3jxmuL8ihiMXSmZhQWijfGm7Q0k1CWL1WHJxR5fc6PEsoz9dV4Tj7caoYqbDTekRccQ2pgjHFSQ/w640-h482/Photo-1%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">with the following caption:</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>RICH BRIDE 68, HUSBAND 29</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Mrs. Sarah V. Browne Wils, 68, known as Evanston's richest woman, is honeymooning today with Harry C. Wils, 29, an automobile salesman, in her Wyndeknowe Castle on Lake Michigan near the Evanston, Ill. Lighthouse. Mr. Wils called on Mrs. Browne to sell her a car, and proposed instead.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The minute I saw this photo I realized that there must be an interesting story here, and boy, was I right. The more research I did, the more interesting the story became. Sarah Vowell Brown Deynzer Wils, an Evanston woman who lived in a reputed "castle" on Lake Michigan did not just marry one man significantly younger than she was, she married two. In fact my research uncovered so much information about her that it became too much for one article. So I decided to break her story into three parts, one for each of her husbands. Sit back and get ready to enjoy the story of Evanston's very own cougar: </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I was young, the word "cougar" meant two things:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">1) A large powerful wild cat (Puma concolor syn. Felis concolor) chiefly of mountainous regions of the Americas, having an unmarked tawny body and a long tail.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhL9zGW9bEj0uENl1gmEyriT2xKH56w0YhTDbL2h9dBO9Of4pNlQAQNgpxKJ6rdem2ajr8gVjCwmJzDixeFUKJCXUfLnKOvhuxOc38fmfLMkx5Ac02IIsPkyjpy_qGwDSwODPe9I-XHvImhotZ5cJ994vhn5a-TZum-gBOx9zxzzj44HP9XwExBF2YFIw=s900" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="597" data-original-width="900" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhL9zGW9bEj0uENl1gmEyriT2xKH56w0YhTDbL2h9dBO9Of4pNlQAQNgpxKJ6rdem2ajr8gVjCwmJzDixeFUKJCXUfLnKOvhuxOc38fmfLMkx5Ac02IIsPkyjpy_qGwDSwODPe9I-XHvImhotZ5cJ994vhn5a-TZum-gBOx9zxzzj44HP9XwExBF2YFIw=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Puma Concolor of the subfamily Felinae)</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: center;">or</div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">2) The wonderful cars with the hidden headlights manufactured by the Lincoln-Mercury Division of the Ford Motor Company</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5EzC2sXGIF20Tc47RXQwPhe8sIiYTM19hzNH7FtM8zosuQB7RxOrSIY6NCyM1RLJOCJIWfuCrPIy5Kujy0iianDrLlyb1kiLjimbu2lm1cDiNGLzrHp3RsEpnLWeJq_en8l6mx8FOo8UDuFJ0Y755YqiCw-ZhW48nJlHFjGS79dKbo5cijSr66SgPOg=s1004" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="803" data-original-width="1004" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5EzC2sXGIF20Tc47RXQwPhe8sIiYTM19hzNH7FtM8zosuQB7RxOrSIY6NCyM1RLJOCJIWfuCrPIy5Kujy0iianDrLlyb1kiLjimbu2lm1cDiNGLzrHp3RsEpnLWeJq_en8l6mx8FOo8UDuFJ0Y755YqiCw-ZhW48nJlHFjGS79dKbo5cijSr66SgPOg=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Very First Mercury Cougar</td></tr></tbody></table> <br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">In more recent times, the word "cougar" has taken on an additional meaning:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>A woman, especially one over 30, who romantically pursues or attracts younger men.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">What would cause a young man to respond favorably to the attentions of a "cougar"? One of the most common attractions is, of course, the attraction to money. It has been said that "Money doesn't buy happiness, but it sure makes misery a lot easier to live with."</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Before we take a look at Sarah's life with her young husbands, let's look at the first part of her life and her first marriage, which were by all accounts very conventional.</span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Sarah Vowell was born June 20, 1864 in Keokuk, Iowa to Stewart Brown Vowell (1836-1916) and Sarah C. Hazlett (1836-1886). Stewart Vowell started his career as a druggist, but in later years became a dealer in marble. Stewart and Sarah married in 1859 in Pennsylvania, and in addition to young Sarah they had two other children: Samuel H. Vowell (1860-1931) and Mary Stewart Vowell/Mrs. Charles R. Ayres (1868-1940). </div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Our" Sarah Vowell (sometimes nicknamed "Sadie" to differentiate her from her mother) makes her first appearance in the 1870 US Census. The family was living at 478 N. LaSalle (now 1306 N. La Salle) in Chicago. A high-rise apartment occupies that plot today. The family consisted of Stewart Vowell (36 years old), his wife Sarah (also 36) and their children Samuel (10), Sarah (6), and Mary, called Marie (2). The marble business must have been profitable, because the Vowell family also had a live-in servant, 22 year-old Anna Lawson, from Sweden.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1870 Directory for Chicago says that Stewart worked for Knapp, Vowell & Co. which manufactured and sold mantle-pieces made of marble. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Chicago (IL) Tribune of February 22, 1878 reported some bad luck for Stewart Vowell:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwZ-cObrJaUjtGqGUx3cxlfQ8ADVjoFPVQP08wNTZuLAXOtiAhBYBcmL_DdVYoOcracRf1RvEXkIGfWZHSPf9SJ0T_uzWgfRP5QLeevTvh6unPjhFRbT-UnnCWdQAq3oBL5ncL88kQLt-0ke4RsGXdflgRhYkKZ8Atf-wLaKx2EyL7aR2Oa1-1HBHeRQ/s943/Vowell.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="519" data-original-width="943" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwZ-cObrJaUjtGqGUx3cxlfQ8ADVjoFPVQP08wNTZuLAXOtiAhBYBcmL_DdVYoOcracRf1RvEXkIGfWZHSPf9SJ0T_uzWgfRP5QLeevTvh6unPjhFRbT-UnnCWdQAq3oBL5ncL88kQLt-0ke4RsGXdflgRhYkKZ8Atf-wLaKx2EyL7aR2Oa1-1HBHeRQ/w640-h352/Vowell.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 1880 US Census shows the Vowell family is still at 478 La Salle in Chicago. The family consisted of: Stewart (47), Sarah (45), Samuel (18), Sarah (14), and Mary (10). Stewart's change in status is noted as he now reports his occupation as "Clerk in a Marble Store." No sign of any live-in servants. </span></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">But it was not all bad news for the Vowell family. On September 13, 1885 the Chicago (IL) Inter-Ocean reported the following:</span><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="152" data-original-width="609" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7zOIWN6TqesGcIXY0JpQ6xGdwgEOVHoyRUYcDUiD-UjI1kgrqFZwHNiGlWtexqZfLPpkkDweCM_w328FgZIBV7Jy35BQvt8GaCUE1vA0y7Xt0jgFfCRxDoqV16LyrCa5j6r37cdmNGjB7z5jg620guja524ie3aMMx_z0wkwIfGCZxoKHZ_PoITOb6A/w640-h160/Sarah%20Marriage%20to%20Brown%20Inter-Ocean%2013%20Sep%201885.JPG" width="640" /></div><br /><div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Here's a photo of Sarah from about the time of her first marriage:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhalLmg1HcsniX-w-6Ydd_X2hS6qMfBW_ZAfieqf_b5EVwq3IXJDO8V58u--hWlbL1TltnrmaLrap_3VyW1of1xgxJwxq1WxzRNnLB3OLUHrbdK6faG014uLhIzKMcvt28ePiOBz_18vYQCdNkCPuxIH4GlSscpg-uQBqtn-cc2prfRVh26a8CGmnzU_Q/s351/Sara%20Brown.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="351" data-original-width="253" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhalLmg1HcsniX-w-6Ydd_X2hS6qMfBW_ZAfieqf_b5EVwq3IXJDO8V58u--hWlbL1TltnrmaLrap_3VyW1of1xgxJwxq1WxzRNnLB3OLUHrbdK6faG014uLhIzKMcvt28ePiOBz_18vYQCdNkCPuxIH4GlSscpg-uQBqtn-cc2prfRVh26a8CGmnzU_Q/w462-h640/Sara%20Brown.JPG" width="462" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Let's see what we can dig up about Sarah's first husband. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Edwin Franklin Brown was born January 26, 1861 in Milo, Maine to Edwin Lee Brown (1827-1891) and Mary Lapham (1832-1901). The Browns were a very old New England family, being descendants of James Babcock of Taunton, Massachusetts who came to the US from Essex, England in July, 1623. Edwin was brought to Evanston, Illinois as an infant and was educated in the Evanston public school system. After his graduation from Evanston Township High School (my alma-mater) he attended the University of Illinois.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1880 he was employed by an agent of the Hartford Sewing Machine Company. He then represented the bicycle department of the John Wilkerson Company until 1883 when he went into business for himself as northwestern agent for the Caligraph Typewriter Company, which he represented for a year. In 1884 he entered his father's company, the Brown Brothers Manufacturing Company and upon the death of his father in 1891 he became president. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1903, Brown sold his controlling interest in his father's former firm and organized the Brown Specialty Machinery Company for the manufacture of special machinery, and was president and owner. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Due to his sterling reputation, in 1896 Edwin Brown was appointed national bank examiner and served in that role until 1900. From 1900 to 1903 he was receiver for over twenty national banks, illustrating the high regard entertained for his business integrity.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Having developed a liking for the banking business, he sold his remaining interest in the Brown Brothers Manufacturing Company and established a private bank in the spring of 1903, known as the Manufacturers Bank with capital of $25,000.00. Within a few months its deposits had grown to $100,000.00. On October 12, 1903 the bank was organized and incorporated as a state bank and the capital increased to $200,000.00. Soon the institution had deposits amounting to $500,000.00, In 1906 it was converted into the Monroe National Bank with deposits of $1,600,000.00. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Edwin Brown was known as one of the most versatile men in the Chicagoland area. He was said to be "a banker, a manufacturer, and expert on Navajo blankets, an art critic, a noted collector of rare ceramics, a famed automobilist, an inventor, a printer, a rhymester and an athlete."</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As successful as he was as a banker and industrialist, his main avocation was in the mechanics of transportation. Having had a love for mechanics his entire life, when just a boy, Brown built his own high wheel bicycle and later a safety bicycle. This he followed with a water bike which used to skim the waters of the lake off Evanston. Edwin Brown was also one of the pioneers in the invention and construction of self-propelling vehicles. As early as 1884 and up to 1891 he built and operated three different machines operated by steam, all widely different in pattern. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He was one of the first men in Chicagoland to own an automobile, or "devil wagon" as they were known back then. After tinkering with his car built by others, he decided to design and build several automobiles of his own creation. Brown was responsible for some of the most valuable inventions associated with the modern automobile. Over the years he took out between twenty-five and thirty patents that were automobile-related.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">With all of these interests, did Edwin Brown have time for a family life? Yes and no. As we noted above he married the lovely Sarah Vowell in 1885. The newlyweds' first home was at 1720 Asbury in Evanston:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu_gZ-FfC5ZeB6AQgZZEn3nvirE_JsFIfW2qSlHassqgVPwsckA2db30TPm3iDVUZ_AkxNEa1ev7hNXnkXznLRy-bSlGzaVUWsH3EuhzgYIrl1vwGpglNHbl3zZvm1nb-H94zI720-PTnFo_FzCcyoEN8OHueUYDotLBJKNrh7sip7jXKhdOmx9Xxvpg/s611/1720%20asbury.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="443" data-original-width="611" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu_gZ-FfC5ZeB6AQgZZEn3nvirE_JsFIfW2qSlHassqgVPwsckA2db30TPm3iDVUZ_AkxNEa1ev7hNXnkXznLRy-bSlGzaVUWsH3EuhzgYIrl1vwGpglNHbl3zZvm1nb-H94zI720-PTnFo_FzCcyoEN8OHueUYDotLBJKNrh7sip7jXKhdOmx9Xxvpg/w400-h290/1720%20asbury.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1720 Asbury, Evanston, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1890 they built and moved into this house, originally designated as 1640 Sheridan Road, it was later renumbered as 300 Church Street:</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ-Rmh5ZDKRtcK9OXyLRDogupsdUIzET_H0HB056HbBA5d03p5XAQSw5OfogWkKTm3HejbuWuEa1QrM2KEaXLsyUmUk6lCe7IbIFgTcNYQ0K1SnnG8GRl-nApUwK-Z65XYgxMqUD4-tEvKI2xoAf86EJU6CD6Z1alSKFqeihUIPw9vXm0hqpVRcPBWMQ/s513/300%20Church%20Street,%20Evanston.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="327" data-original-width="513" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ-Rmh5ZDKRtcK9OXyLRDogupsdUIzET_H0HB056HbBA5d03p5XAQSw5OfogWkKTm3HejbuWuEa1QrM2KEaXLsyUmUk6lCe7IbIFgTcNYQ0K1SnnG8GRl-nApUwK-Z65XYgxMqUD4-tEvKI2xoAf86EJU6CD6Z1alSKFqeihUIPw9vXm0hqpVRcPBWMQ/w400-h255/300%20Church%20Street,%20Evanston.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">300 Church Street, Evanston, Illinois</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Here's how it looks today:</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQC_aMxyPl2r7nFplA5Mnqj9bFlmWsJ8hPRMoO0Vq0Nuh3C3kt1CEtwaPviP5mHFH31ZqwXRiHGb9LA-iheQ5PCfUowy4Uz7fPHRrnSDJ-C9Co-DqRwSTQ1HywZDM4brcIBSyrbg0YT396NikGImSEbX3ExgeCAw4j8bwLg1h_J8TIzn2Zu2PqiA8gMA/s923/300%20Church%20Street%20Today.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="563" data-original-width="923" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQC_aMxyPl2r7nFplA5Mnqj9bFlmWsJ8hPRMoO0Vq0Nuh3C3kt1CEtwaPviP5mHFH31ZqwXRiHGb9LA-iheQ5PCfUowy4Uz7fPHRrnSDJ-C9Co-DqRwSTQ1HywZDM4brcIBSyrbg0YT396NikGImSEbX3ExgeCAw4j8bwLg1h_J8TIzn2Zu2PqiA8gMA/w400-h244/300%20Church%20Street%20Today.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">300 Church Street, Evanston, Illinois - 2020</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span>But the home the Browns were best known for was referred to in the article at the top of this story: </span><span>Windeknowe Castle on Lake Michigan near the Evanston, Illinois lighthouse:</span></span></div></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-size: x-large; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtFz19f1jNgNMcJgECrODQn14_0IG5RQ66fme7kUvteBqP7CifqstQjAyWmf4ipWCVw9Ygu28PlX6mNNQEUF-1RRDEg5pi7CTCvkH6gu9uXRcpfssO2TBE33uGZgFMuprloVZMszytSowUEqVsgFiJPswOEj6-wa9jqnfwfFdxNI2jhpNginRV24bnHA/s639/Windiknowe-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="435" data-original-width="639" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtFz19f1jNgNMcJgECrODQn14_0IG5RQ66fme7kUvteBqP7CifqstQjAyWmf4ipWCVw9Ygu28PlX6mNNQEUF-1RRDEg5pi7CTCvkH6gu9uXRcpfssO2TBE33uGZgFMuprloVZMszytSowUEqVsgFiJPswOEj6-wa9jqnfwfFdxNI2jhpNginRV24bnHA/w400-h272/Windiknowe-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">569 Milburn Street, Evanston, Illinois</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">In March of 1892 Edwin and Sarah Brown bought property at the northwest corner of Sheridan Road and Milburn Street. In 1894 they commissioned their brother-in-law Charles R. Ayres to design the new house they named "Windiknowe" which is Scottish for "Windy Knoll." Completed in 1895 the house at 569 Milburn was finished in rough stucco painted cadmium yellow. For those who are not familiar with it, this is cadmium yellow:</span></div><div style="font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnipu8iEja-1Jnbx-rlImHZ8BC84tnvzZlWpFAA1AN7jgb9juq_pJHP2WJUSxhtZVkrFx4SC2JwJMZnteacKDbiSHlnc1nvl2Cfe-CZYmMOoLJlBZNR0yMAQL-LLZ0gd6WsmvsFgQ_sS07dVslcwTeRHUJw7AWjeC0QLDW3l1oGdlXdGcjlfMhhda2xA/s225/Cadmium_yellow_painted_swatch_Lipscher_spot-opt.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnipu8iEja-1Jnbx-rlImHZ8BC84tnvzZlWpFAA1AN7jgb9juq_pJHP2WJUSxhtZVkrFx4SC2JwJMZnteacKDbiSHlnc1nvl2Cfe-CZYmMOoLJlBZNR0yMAQL-LLZ0gd6WsmvsFgQ_sS07dVslcwTeRHUJw7AWjeC0QLDW3l1oGdlXdGcjlfMhhda2xA/s1600/Cadmium_yellow_painted_swatch_Lipscher_spot-opt.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">This is quite a bright color to paint a house. Frankly it competed with the Evanston lighthouse as far as being able to be seen from a distance.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I would not have described Windiknowe as a "castle," especially with all the other castle-like homes in Evanston. Here is the Evanston house I would describe as a "castle":</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-size: x-large; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbFt_GH9h9iaPw_2cwFvTIM4CySWcgPgFioGsr29HsmfbN820Ks0RGoesji3AJLlB1mgzpDiOolhPgWU0qoQF3EBG4Ajrijuu2TU-QC1APbtH299MCLIhUUFoeeyU2IvWDsW2yM4F6D8PfVABRdjz-XCsHzB_wq7pAUheZnVnw_udnFwmyf3PmoG2COQ/s665/1232%20Ridge%20Evanston.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="665" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbFt_GH9h9iaPw_2cwFvTIM4CySWcgPgFioGsr29HsmfbN820Ks0RGoesji3AJLlB1mgzpDiOolhPgWU0qoQF3EBG4Ajrijuu2TU-QC1APbtH299MCLIhUUFoeeyU2IvWDsW2yM4F6D8PfVABRdjz-XCsHzB_wq7pAUheZnVnw_udnFwmyf3PmoG2COQ/w400-h271/1232%20Ridge%20Evanston.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">1232 Ridge Avenue, Evanston, Illinois</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In the boathouse at Windiknowe, Edwin Brown established the Windiknowe Shop, an arts-and-crafts venture in the tradition of the Roycrafters. Because of Brown's many interests, the shop contained not only lathes and furnaces, but also a printing room. One of the few known artifacts to come from the shop was a little book, <u>Glimpses Across the Sea</u> by Samuel T. Clover:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_uBlqVC18ASdHMPOZxrHIByb9qrGgm-vT5DN-HYaVSVBsP2iH9EXoSeXOMF0d49tLOil7lnq_L0mEaonn8nl6fRczMOArtmTsf7uVjQDigwlp1o3Cf61hEi0lA_BaOdZtYipg3SFFl04ChESpCQjE6Ob6dxXu2Kroyf9-442FDsBiXaFv9HLbJqauHg/s1468/Glimpses.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1468" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_uBlqVC18ASdHMPOZxrHIByb9qrGgm-vT5DN-HYaVSVBsP2iH9EXoSeXOMF0d49tLOil7lnq_L0mEaonn8nl6fRczMOArtmTsf7uVjQDigwlp1o3Cf61hEi0lA_BaOdZtYipg3SFFl04ChESpCQjE6Ob6dxXu2Kroyf9-442FDsBiXaFv9HLbJqauHg/s320/Glimpses.jpg" width="218" /></a></div><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Edwin and Sarah Brown were together often enough to have had two children: Edwin Vowell Brown (1886-1887) and Lucille Vowell Brown (1892-1974). Edwin was born August 5, 1886 and died July 16, 1887. He is buried in the Brown Family Plot at Chicago's Graceland Cemetery, Maplewood Section - Lot 63:</span></div><div style="font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6nwBSAjTwqtderIt5Jz2eKZcVofPa3NqUH64L173Z68YKkWIsD7oIBINM4mD8SWymmli6fZ1xRdgTcfYXTKHiGqdUnP5oJlhHbLFefWupUn_n28qyBqhTC_qERcOfh-W1iQ7lCR35zC31Ft4staxu-L5yPEFwRE43hXxXOA424OZUlyrGKHHq7pmY8w/s964/IMG_0003.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="964" data-original-width="831" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6nwBSAjTwqtderIt5Jz2eKZcVofPa3NqUH64L173Z68YKkWIsD7oIBINM4mD8SWymmli6fZ1xRdgTcfYXTKHiGqdUnP5oJlhHbLFefWupUn_n28qyBqhTC_qERcOfh-W1iQ7lCR35zC31Ft4staxu-L5yPEFwRE43hXxXOA424OZUlyrGKHHq7pmY8w/s320/IMG_0003.JPG" width="276" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQkaFkO5fZlblq2IbbkeFYgNKfzpGGt3yFP5VpQRq3U8cQkFCgduQ6ZR8nOxzuQavU35BQQIMWgOvhJBqwG6NogjHi8Sfowe4P8fzqZuLUcJ22b-g2batenXMER-CDRSK8iZBb_sUn8WT7Jl59NRBFL7mdTZCe9vC3j7i2OQgmmrzBF486wujToXoZA/s1703/Brown,%20Edwin%20Vowell.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1327" data-original-width="1703" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQkaFkO5fZlblq2IbbkeFYgNKfzpGGt3yFP5VpQRq3U8cQkFCgduQ6ZR8nOxzuQavU35BQQIMWgOvhJBqwG6NogjHi8Sfowe4P8fzqZuLUcJ22b-g2batenXMER-CDRSK8iZBb_sUn8WT7Jl59NRBFL7mdTZCe9vC3j7i2OQgmmrzBF486wujToXoZA/s320/Brown,%20Edwin%20Vowell.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> </div></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Sarah Vowell's first husband Edwin Franklin Brown died February 15, 1912 in Chicago and was buried the next day, February 16, 1912 in the Brown Plot @ Graceland:</span></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0utrlHZLfaNDom2TW3NUcUTpAgElW6kPX07GGqmNjANn-GtYUE7zEPz1IVi3UWGHF2C2T4w0Opb9e8ZsbAEZlbysXYHLl1LuBkT7GbGR4BiCUrW__tVKGakPcmfHznRuKLRUP9nsDKzA4GphMBb1TxIbRc9HT2-hGcRh8LiIvcW6k2WTETUr9xya8iw/s2484/Brown,%20Edwin%20F..JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1520" data-original-width="2484" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0utrlHZLfaNDom2TW3NUcUTpAgElW6kPX07GGqmNjANn-GtYUE7zEPz1IVi3UWGHF2C2T4w0Opb9e8ZsbAEZlbysXYHLl1LuBkT7GbGR4BiCUrW__tVKGakPcmfHznRuKLRUP9nsDKzA4GphMBb1TxIbRc9HT2-hGcRh8LiIvcW6k2WTETUr9xya8iw/s320/Brown,%20Edwin%20F..JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Edwin Brown's death was not without some controversy. It seems that Edwin and Sarah Brown had been estranged for five years until just before he died. Here is the scoop from the Chicago Examiner of February 3, 1912:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCX5yBFg5JQcmYw37Lk4DIIE0jWNCk0cBDuxPfVeOcUAYS0w082G9jYTVPPQ6Ezwobb2x-P_KyYyMOj_cgO3ulIQWmk7Vqv2aN3_ugx5RVZmNPWl52wrOMi3ERIXgLgElbfbSRuK7DUp1TnhBJYbTwr1xjKLuZZWmxuaIv6nQVK9uILWzuNVzQ0UU2Kg/s532/death-1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="220" data-original-width="532" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCX5yBFg5JQcmYw37Lk4DIIE0jWNCk0cBDuxPfVeOcUAYS0w082G9jYTVPPQ6Ezwobb2x-P_KyYyMOj_cgO3ulIQWmk7Vqv2aN3_ugx5RVZmNPWl52wrOMi3ERIXgLgElbfbSRuK7DUp1TnhBJYbTwr1xjKLuZZWmxuaIv6nQVK9uILWzuNVzQ0UU2Kg/w439-h181/death-1.JPG" width="439" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiB1UFHjPCxg0ztaAerlWkDGWGyR5lAGuVEwuBZXJc6qaUItbL6NnAU9uClMe3Nbhdxxa1prHlhg1qwbRG126pkn7kxK2nVfK2ruHZt68RDZaFbBPHY4x3dowTC-9zv_-6taft96GzoFTEjS-dh33Yi7YquqUlJEoHxeMtGh-JMRqt0fnUzh21Z8TJwA/s603/Death-2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="322" height="810" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiB1UFHjPCxg0ztaAerlWkDGWGyR5lAGuVEwuBZXJc6qaUItbL6NnAU9uClMe3Nbhdxxa1prHlhg1qwbRG126pkn7kxK2nVfK2ruHZt68RDZaFbBPHY4x3dowTC-9zv_-6taft96GzoFTEjS-dh33Yi7YquqUlJEoHxeMtGh-JMRqt0fnUzh21Z8TJwA/w433-h810/Death-2.JPG" width="433" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="666" data-original-width="330" height="880" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8luOHy2cFadfoTgrQCbBDPhZWm1tbrfGOS2j9zRpZ-awbtUclulAQdfw6xCWmfJRtVqoFA_uPUvDrDDjFCzHjJT9KFZVaIxUAslYsMdFlbFNjiBqHFlT9WrdjQ2iad5nkt6G2JUxnybQWUuIbvp8YNU-pcxWjxw5TK4cF3Y-nEq4vsAJCe_1juX0NA/w437-h880/Death-3.JPG" width="437" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYbt5lZD65IyI9lCzWdEfNGcx3a6eneh0cOO6opbUwWRqxTrRre3r7iOKPb-YY1mtoOZhWgWWcEiWSLjmi0DqC8mQleZIA8fQKfY28TlTOb2VB2-jLWHe2R8iUxnjvZ9RFiNn7Io2AV4k1AFEAOnvqfPB_kt6ENoJbTgcheKYNRq9xWn3_XOxqt7adw/s328/Death-4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="98" data-original-width="328" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYbt5lZD65IyI9lCzWdEfNGcx3a6eneh0cOO6opbUwWRqxTrRre3r7iOKPb-YY1mtoOZhWgWWcEiWSLjmi0DqC8mQleZIA8fQKfY28TlTOb2VB2-jLWHe2R8iUxnjvZ9RFiNn7Io2AV4k1AFEAOnvqfPB_kt6ENoJbTgcheKYNRq9xWn3_XOxqt7adw/w448-h134/Death-4.JPG" width="448" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Sarah Vowell Brown was many things, but she was no fool. When Edwin Brown's will was submitted for probate, it was noted that the will was dated February 13, 1912 - just two days prior to his death - when Sarah had taken up her "deathbed watch." The estate, estimated to have been $4.5 million, of which 2/3 ($3 million) was left to the grieving widow, and the remainder ($1.5 million) in trust to his daughter Lucille, until she reached the age of thirty-five. But remember, he had already given Sarah Windiknowe and $50,000.00 cash at the time of their separation.</span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Putting things into perspective, in today's funds, the estate would amount to $131.6 million. Sarah's share would be $87.7 million; Lucille's share would be $43.9 million.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">What did Sarah do with her sizable inheritance? Come back next month and find out.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8SyhBkpkR6JuZ0N4NN5sQ-EuKHjpEZXiJJqTo_N9mQ_6wnHZg2QMpOuqd6eTRYjhpaxQMiw_8wLQljfcvNHQxkS6X9BOpxjG6g2H9k98BvL4zo5hHbqX4gJxwgK_A89ICQTIhPs57lUo1GJ5ThZlDe2rZ-Ch0zacrqVTxF0jzjHwO6TId2MilwUiF6A/s612/Brown,%20edwin.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="261" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8SyhBkpkR6JuZ0N4NN5sQ-EuKHjpEZXiJJqTo_N9mQ_6wnHZg2QMpOuqd6eTRYjhpaxQMiw_8wLQljfcvNHQxkS6X9BOpxjG6g2H9k98BvL4zo5hHbqX4gJxwgK_A89ICQTIhPs57lUo1GJ5ThZlDe2rZ-Ch0zacrqVTxF0jzjHwO6TId2MilwUiF6A/w272-h640/Brown,%20edwin.JPG" width="272" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Husband #1, Edwin F. Brown</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">May he rest in peace.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Special thanks to researcher nonpareil Mike Kelly without whose research this article (and many others of mine) would not have happened. The man is amazing. </span></p></div>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1048001146592498987.post-58549247205001981142022-03-01T06:25:00.001-08:002022-03-01T06:25:32.437-08:00THE LARGEST SEAMLESS RUG EVER MADE IN AMERICA - The Kerr Rug Mfg. Co. for Angeles Abbey in Compton, California<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This month's blog article will be slightly different than usual. I have been working on a project for Find a Grave that has taken up most of my time lately. In this regard I have created over 2,100 Memorial Pages for people interred at Angeles Abbey in Compton, California. I do have an interesting story in the hopper about "The Richest Woman in Evanston (68) Elopes with Car Salesman (29)" but to finish it I have to do further research at the Evanston Historical Society which I will not be able to do until next month. So this month we will take another trip to Compton, California and the Angeles Abbey Mausoleum Park.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My Find a Grave project has me using Newspapers.com to scour local newspapers for obituaries to identify people interred at Angeles Abbey. While searching the Santa Ana (CA) Register I came across the following advertisement from July 7, 1928:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgkoOkPWoZMSgDFaFDueRJ-hz013GEawZpRiLc0dHEm7nlKrDO3-Ed6QlwysgGC8tclvzfz8BcKuOGOltgmlA2OA9x8xCGC2aw7yDCTCO48a83ue8BT-4bzHajVzwdFA3b7g0_aeS7sftR9pZHB9eJjsa3X8XOrLOC5xkAtTgk4B3-N7t2gLxeWu7fNXQ=s1335" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1335" data-original-width="279" height="1223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgkoOkPWoZMSgDFaFDueRJ-hz013GEawZpRiLc0dHEm7nlKrDO3-Ed6QlwysgGC8tclvzfz8BcKuOGOltgmlA2OA9x8xCGC2aw7yDCTCO48a83ue8BT-4bzHajVzwdFA3b7g0_aeS7sftR9pZHB9eJjsa3X8XOrLOC5xkAtTgk4B3-N7t2gLxeWu7fNXQ=w256-h1223" width="256" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I didn't really pay much attention to the ad until I saw that part that said:</span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">We have just made and laid the largest seamless rug ever made in America in Angeles Abbey, Compton, California.</span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Well, that sounded interesting. I decided to contact the Kerr Rug Mfg. Co. to see if they had any information in their archives about the rug. I thought I would start with the address in the ad: 112 West Fifth Street, Santa Ana, California. No luck. An un-carpeted parking garage occupies that parcel today.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The ad said the Santa Ana address was a branch. I needed to look for the headquarters. I checked the Internet and found a Kerr Floors, Inc. at 130 E. Dyer Road, Santa Ana, CA. They had a website: www.kerrfloors.com. I sent them an email and here's the response I received the next day:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Different Kerr. There was a Kerr Rug in Fresno, but don’t know if there’s any connection to the Kerr Rug in the article. Good luck with your project. Wish I could help.</span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Thank you,</span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Kerr Floors, Inc. </span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Based on his information I looked for a Kerr Rug in Fresno. There was a Kerr Rug Co. at 539 G Street in Fresno, that had been founded in 1912. It was located in a beautiful (at one time) streamline-moderne building. Unfortunately the company closed and the building was razed in 2015.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjzwbkuq283Bxw-M4DM1GGSOXQkgfa3WWO_prDV9nxOBMOZWuRLm5tjg08ZiK2LmASTyBRAMt_lfJkcHduQsesygBXeHJCoXtsDj9ZUCusOc-0am4LP_MsKZzP12z6RnF1td83qzsqvswSdPq-LnIAmmHoTsPbwcuBIj0L7PD80F3CftlCGItAYWAUGew=s1080" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="387" data-original-width="1080" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjzwbkuq283Bxw-M4DM1GGSOXQkgfa3WWO_prDV9nxOBMOZWuRLm5tjg08ZiK2LmASTyBRAMt_lfJkcHduQsesygBXeHJCoXtsDj9ZUCusOc-0am4LP_MsKZzP12z6RnF1td83qzsqvswSdPq-LnIAmmHoTsPbwcuBIj0L7PD80F3CftlCGItAYWAUGew=w400-h144" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOIHm570IwKgtDUsPVTeQ4f2hXctTGtmeJe0-fiziIVK1iQ2vcKS23Q2ruAu5MQvlmmVGEReg4GcEcWFtKvbBiY5tpdc-2o2-qBT2TZaIGJeF3QcapXVwgkR9qhnyb629HCXJ02NYH-CAlDiE1UOtJ3ZeTpf_oVjUTJ4y4k5SQ8r3Bm4ePMzuoD_yYPQ=s1238" style="clear: left; display: inline; font-size: large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="381" data-original-width="1238" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOIHm570IwKgtDUsPVTeQ4f2hXctTGtmeJe0-fiziIVK1iQ2vcKS23Q2ruAu5MQvlmmVGEReg4GcEcWFtKvbBiY5tpdc-2o2-qBT2TZaIGJeF3QcapXVwgkR9qhnyb629HCXJ02NYH-CAlDiE1UOtJ3ZeTpf_oVjUTJ4y4k5SQ8r3Bm4ePMzuoD_yYPQ=w640-h196" width="640" /></a><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />A dead end. Then I decided to turn to my friend Bob Marlowe who is my "go-to guy" for information about Angeles Abbey. I wanted him to check and see if the rug was still there. Bob contacted the current manager of Angeles Abbey and here is his response:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>When the current manager took over (21-22 years ago) he also saw that article. The rug had already been removed but he found it wadded up on an upper floor of the building in which it had laid. It was mildewed, etc. and he threw it away.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Any historian who is interested in Los Angeles knows that Los Angeles has a habit of throwing its history away. But with all the stories I have read about the deplorable condition of the buildings at Angeles Abbey I would have been surprised if the rug was still there. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Another dead end. But now I was more interested than ever. I decided to see if I could find a picture of the rug. After some digging I found one - and here it is:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg3phxzHbVgNXo8R8Q_jCiAG5SmCXsoq4SNjb6t-adqdxwiWLNobNIrt0r1y4qPVkd2ed8sRgufmXgMfmLcgAggTeYvqMKxl975mAAeVWrgoWmye0dz7aGwPPmakmiEupoLtqXapkbHeueKG7gSQznq3K1jWtVfaXvUUutnxBWUtoZaU3DE7xmgRUoFdg=s1632" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1632" data-original-width="1040" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg3phxzHbVgNXo8R8Q_jCiAG5SmCXsoq4SNjb6t-adqdxwiWLNobNIrt0r1y4qPVkd2ed8sRgufmXgMfmLcgAggTeYvqMKxl975mAAeVWrgoWmye0dz7aGwPPmakmiEupoLtqXapkbHeueKG7gSQznq3K1jWtVfaXvUUutnxBWUtoZaU3DE7xmgRUoFdg=w408-h640" width="408" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">It was obviously in the Abbey of the Angelus and went down the main hall from the front door all the way to the Angelus window. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Here's another photo that gives an idea of just how long that hall (and rug) was:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_6LlqUbzyt55wOiMY4TNq1740i-afr2bvfdyWJJg3YF2vZw52kmaNW08ZOOGFjvTy0xnI8w_5UjPoN5ponY05eedJOYBvjGHJ3kwUJ8EnTN5VxIPUcj1PbFyXxRefRvTZ7PauXFhb41t2uCS6-_tcVCnLcX2lFT066Tz4BhQNtmGwtAUSknUp-0_i6g=s2662" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2662" data-original-width="2102" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_6LlqUbzyt55wOiMY4TNq1740i-afr2bvfdyWJJg3YF2vZw52kmaNW08ZOOGFjvTy0xnI8w_5UjPoN5ponY05eedJOYBvjGHJ3kwUJ8EnTN5VxIPUcj1PbFyXxRefRvTZ7PauXFhb41t2uCS6-_tcVCnLcX2lFT066Tz4BhQNtmGwtAUSknUp-0_i6g=w506-h640" width="506" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">It would not have been easy to throw it out. Can you imagine just how heavy that rug was - remember, no seams.</span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So now you know the story of the largest seamless rug ever made in America. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">To finish up this month's article I am going to take you on a visual tour of Angeles Abbey. It's from a booklet published in 1931 entitled "For Those Who Care" which was the motto of Angeles Abbey.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMKCgb1bOcuYs0b_TxvDrD8PVDOpRdiGj1ee3Nvr_HPy8YzDbfqnVj6KwkoBt83r_H1P6OYxOhIgl98w2dS4X2YTwt_k3bHaI2O2mhUZBEDpcnDuFbYE7zEGETHojZVbsPueKfdnk6xQxogmFT4btKIUyXBlgVLJdhKVFYaVh7tniDeIVaXE8Ii8OIJA=s3116" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3116" data-original-width="2396" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMKCgb1bOcuYs0b_TxvDrD8PVDOpRdiGj1ee3Nvr_HPy8YzDbfqnVj6KwkoBt83r_H1P6OYxOhIgl98w2dS4X2YTwt_k3bHaI2O2mhUZBEDpcnDuFbYE7zEGETHojZVbsPueKfdnk6xQxogmFT4btKIUyXBlgVLJdhKVFYaVh7tniDeIVaXE8Ii8OIJA=w492-h640" width="492" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhP93bwTl5v-lsWc-thQ3hWBxCHssKaAXcrreRWZs7-DDs8dNUOcWAkdcHseF5x4MDlbClMMZTApzcQLcB4MFWX11CwfF2utt_O9Y5lWxgPSVS0sT9sn0DE2i7wgs7E1Xxf_5CMzPISP2TjBDvadnrvwL6XEIUB730iCCEgIT1YxKjHl_psD5ltaxiN0Q=s3120" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="2393" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhP93bwTl5v-lsWc-thQ3hWBxCHssKaAXcrreRWZs7-DDs8dNUOcWAkdcHseF5x4MDlbClMMZTApzcQLcB4MFWX11CwfF2utt_O9Y5lWxgPSVS0sT9sn0DE2i7wgs7E1Xxf_5CMzPISP2TjBDvadnrvwL6XEIUB730iCCEgIT1YxKjHl_psD5ltaxiN0Q=w490-h640" width="490" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEihg_JqRQ3cw7SEn9w95DTPP7dG81lLL2xt3Wwt9ipomdmVRPox8hJDrVejEYYv3_IV40zuBUD3P26CKnj4aQmBhlf77DnVsz1uuOpfQttvA0RohO-SOzPxu2DSw-p21zhhc6h_LP9r4qvtgR_8u0jtzNqqMfBufuWClN9PALphYo7aw0YLrPKJF0NY4Q=s3112" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3112" data-original-width="2368" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEihg_JqRQ3cw7SEn9w95DTPP7dG81lLL2xt3Wwt9ipomdmVRPox8hJDrVejEYYv3_IV40zuBUD3P26CKnj4aQmBhlf77DnVsz1uuOpfQttvA0RohO-SOzPxu2DSw-p21zhhc6h_LP9r4qvtgR_8u0jtzNqqMfBufuWClN9PALphYo7aw0YLrPKJF0NY4Q=w486-h640" width="486" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZrhGGVRNyh54SpwF02UGoU0R_YfAS1h-xOA3gcNG9QJxe3_Foq_LrUYoyQskLBYwQBnGQdInHUorqvmLZ-huCGXvz3rCkol7DicmlvSnoJT53FxKSVDe8oPqbgNIxAClPgnVYiUhiYVbOHww6YlzSRQP6b9Y_tPOvtUo6JSAv9DntB0MPmBvXPIJNhg=s3108" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3108" data-original-width="2387" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZrhGGVRNyh54SpwF02UGoU0R_YfAS1h-xOA3gcNG9QJxe3_Foq_LrUYoyQskLBYwQBnGQdInHUorqvmLZ-huCGXvz3rCkol7DicmlvSnoJT53FxKSVDe8oPqbgNIxAClPgnVYiUhiYVbOHww6YlzSRQP6b9Y_tPOvtUo6JSAv9DntB0MPmBvXPIJNhg=w492-h640" width="492" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgf2xJpagivKCKmnXeQD9ftppRAebRLs_W-aUgZirZ2UVNVeWP_t5fGRsup8lVipjpdH4C6W_iCD2DzLiNFu54RibR6MBvZme1xKAuoLJJQuhzt2jiQPAky0QDQ61lhd1JcNQ8kkUWfR-SpXt6uLSkiclo0PS2mubxZ_Oud1DWVyzIKCmPw1ddryk2jCQ=s3116" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3116" data-original-width="2368" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgf2xJpagivKCKmnXeQD9ftppRAebRLs_W-aUgZirZ2UVNVeWP_t5fGRsup8lVipjpdH4C6W_iCD2DzLiNFu54RibR6MBvZme1xKAuoLJJQuhzt2jiQPAky0QDQ61lhd1JcNQ8kkUWfR-SpXt6uLSkiclo0PS2mubxZ_Oud1DWVyzIKCmPw1ddryk2jCQ=w486-h640" width="486" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj67PdhRlWPw8VC52vqTYqnrwERqLlEcCBm7iCe4hA2dxONFDNoUWK9TPyzF8OIbt7SYH_jQnLmCzxqaL6XwXzh7tC9NWg8slr0-2dZXJdYkBYlhp8-k55on8T_ohP8yzpuqhmtTysgOQvVg3maYinsl7pGndChRRq0lKtuZ6_wB85LbNA8Mw106pDhaQ=s3112" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3112" data-original-width="2397" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj67PdhRlWPw8VC52vqTYqnrwERqLlEcCBm7iCe4hA2dxONFDNoUWK9TPyzF8OIbt7SYH_jQnLmCzxqaL6XwXzh7tC9NWg8slr0-2dZXJdYkBYlhp8-k55on8T_ohP8yzpuqhmtTysgOQvVg3maYinsl7pGndChRRq0lKtuZ6_wB85LbNA8Mw106pDhaQ=w492-h640" width="492" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFbYv7zIXKBQIxQGWuBJHji1Cv3oSZFnUNaBu5YpEY-MKwP0ErN17-FBRB0G2ZC-JeDDmgMyXu2CE6pCZk5IL1fmenizPHfTiaZUTBJe0JXmbTB42WO2ahO6h7JInA5dAzbLX7T1mSUWRihUiipDiYsbQ9WZp__s1VfcRoPcWON1jFfwEtqlp3Cu48Gg=s3112" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3112" data-original-width="2340" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFbYv7zIXKBQIxQGWuBJHji1Cv3oSZFnUNaBu5YpEY-MKwP0ErN17-FBRB0G2ZC-JeDDmgMyXu2CE6pCZk5IL1fmenizPHfTiaZUTBJe0JXmbTB42WO2ahO6h7JInA5dAzbLX7T1mSUWRihUiipDiYsbQ9WZp__s1VfcRoPcWON1jFfwEtqlp3Cu48Gg=w482-h640" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhG2xz3YydRqKRg6MkXJa9T0PZlQar_TJ7Da8xTuml_vA7j1Ud30cs0WvVKBpb8GVvVM3HiF7mPn0VfD6DLQCy4h8bkYIYgpvpHhFKb_GYQW-PJL1ec_F5XKtSoe81FsiMYX0ad71wS9p9H9DBI3HXkFnJP_rJES8RpkvLT2bbXEnuNYa-HBX9XtDRTEw=s3071" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3071" data-original-width="2392" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhG2xz3YydRqKRg6MkXJa9T0PZlQar_TJ7Da8xTuml_vA7j1Ud30cs0WvVKBpb8GVvVM3HiF7mPn0VfD6DLQCy4h8bkYIYgpvpHhFKb_GYQW-PJL1ec_F5XKtSoe81FsiMYX0ad71wS9p9H9DBI3HXkFnJP_rJES8RpkvLT2bbXEnuNYa-HBX9XtDRTEw=w498-h640" width="498" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj5UIABjijtH4EIUn-C-Rzhunc-3HYknk3mra7RCOno_XzvuLkUR8eLILQ1FNdbU82L8lVKy98aMQTyYlMl_SKyHtxjwUEORpyA3PbX9AbOTZDPExkE9myB4BBEtNZz5BF2LMcdwg_HgzlPZSlqQc7PGiF2ukWfw4ArKKOG6O5ZHV6MOYzQKL3n0TbNOA=s3116" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3116" data-original-width="2372" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj5UIABjijtH4EIUn-C-Rzhunc-3HYknk3mra7RCOno_XzvuLkUR8eLILQ1FNdbU82L8lVKy98aMQTyYlMl_SKyHtxjwUEORpyA3PbX9AbOTZDPExkE9myB4BBEtNZz5BF2LMcdwg_HgzlPZSlqQc7PGiF2ukWfw4ArKKOG6O5ZHV6MOYzQKL3n0TbNOA=w488-h640" width="488" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3116" data-original-width="2272" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgNEeBuiIKVxbnmwokqvO-gB6eWisOeNCR5T8rNWSvKDEqb7-QAOSa5tfBCUG0PR_s6ywNp_j64Bg1EnyeNYE8Wc0oFK-2VpCWHH3WCO72HvMwMoxPK6S1RIlrUmUCZ4N8F2GeFSeWtUf2welRNzp6rhX_Nogk8icyOBBN1kjSttNBuNKoza72bo2diBw=w466-h640" width="466" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1iGl_2i_x_MpEifu6POuTgzaB02K3Ab7urUDRqpwIgF53zpeP-_ynaK4nxRI7XpPDid5sWwmA068akRuJpuW2cun2epq1oeTXj59Qq-tAqN7diBGi2oY1oPptqnva8i_Oa6XFtrsaGOu6x-t0Vmjk2N3L1qnjCzCt2ESCOxK9ACPvulU9x6oMt12GhQ=s3112" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3112" data-original-width="2395" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1iGl_2i_x_MpEifu6POuTgzaB02K3Ab7urUDRqpwIgF53zpeP-_ynaK4nxRI7XpPDid5sWwmA068akRuJpuW2cun2epq1oeTXj59Qq-tAqN7diBGi2oY1oPptqnva8i_Oa6XFtrsaGOu6x-t0Vmjk2N3L1qnjCzCt2ESCOxK9ACPvulU9x6oMt12GhQ=w492-h640" width="492" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhKHmShokTdVZvaOo16h8YTIpo-JfOjB8J1Xu65N3Qse1z7FpzpJCXuFM1HF1mWocpH1U0HaTTGSBwjKvcbBVhN56nOIhj5GE9_t3DttXJOAZnSeMU4h-AGBTeMDC-TU2FsQy8jbTDJ4mVfSg4qsaD3c6zjp3W0heCEZ0If2wO5SRN3NtjKGc1z1oOuAQ=s3112" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3112" data-original-width="2396" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhKHmShokTdVZvaOo16h8YTIpo-JfOjB8J1Xu65N3Qse1z7FpzpJCXuFM1HF1mWocpH1U0HaTTGSBwjKvcbBVhN56nOIhj5GE9_t3DttXJOAZnSeMU4h-AGBTeMDC-TU2FsQy8jbTDJ4mVfSg4qsaD3c6zjp3W0heCEZ0If2wO5SRN3NtjKGc1z1oOuAQ=w492-h640" width="492" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgAeAi_adS75Au7df28JU1eQHxXFd9nJJGakZ7boJq-pikCximenLwxMh7xI4MevJRtr9o991JBzRcSMRmNNU8w8e-Q4MrUU9x_xDsBu9PNbWb2vhL78fsKrFoPJe9stFvROZvpBfnerJ7qmi-pDZtOCQsn5FAF3waPpP19RlOy8yYrZ-I4dchdG7YkVw=s3116" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3116" data-original-width="2396" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgAeAi_adS75Au7df28JU1eQHxXFd9nJJGakZ7boJq-pikCximenLwxMh7xI4MevJRtr9o991JBzRcSMRmNNU8w8e-Q4MrUU9x_xDsBu9PNbWb2vhL78fsKrFoPJe9stFvROZvpBfnerJ7qmi-pDZtOCQsn5FAF3waPpP19RlOy8yYrZ-I4dchdG7YkVw=w492-h640" width="492" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4GVJNfsM6-TUyPyl4WRJ7NmSpD7CYbedTUeaSEnlVSEY-x2DHTLNZt5QNijPFKYskUFaphAN-2nwPBYvagiRE_of1L-Rs7dSz-Webm0flOUOJyoJyS1EgGpwDZM0cQ0VU0hoC_0xt8JtyMqozddouxODM8mcT_4cDjvjHkudzavlnPbMrCkJMX8Pr_Q=s3104" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3104" data-original-width="2408" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4GVJNfsM6-TUyPyl4WRJ7NmSpD7CYbedTUeaSEnlVSEY-x2DHTLNZt5QNijPFKYskUFaphAN-2nwPBYvagiRE_of1L-Rs7dSz-Webm0flOUOJyoJyS1EgGpwDZM0cQ0VU0hoC_0xt8JtyMqozddouxODM8mcT_4cDjvjHkudzavlnPbMrCkJMX8Pr_Q=w496-h640" width="496" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjLUknPbtn20XEG4pGdvK29i5_fLQC9zXvhvUI86CtYWv2MC8RNApIGdZP9C5MEwzsW-Krij4YHNIi5usGYbzm1qTxdI2zZMRLEt3WSzW2K10cx1MhUhLgUP9OH0-AQfxjsrBSRW9Tvth-ZnAfSATVmFWoyojtKRH7FF7iHVie_1Yr4myBgKu1fJiiX-w=s3112" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3112" data-original-width="2404" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjLUknPbtn20XEG4pGdvK29i5_fLQC9zXvhvUI86CtYWv2MC8RNApIGdZP9C5MEwzsW-Krij4YHNIi5usGYbzm1qTxdI2zZMRLEt3WSzW2K10cx1MhUhLgUP9OH0-AQfxjsrBSRW9Tvth-ZnAfSATVmFWoyojtKRH7FF7iHVie_1Yr4myBgKu1fJiiX-w=w494-h640" width="494" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">So that's it until next month when we render a tale about Evanston's richest woman who liked young men so much she married two different ones.</span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Don't forget, I am still looking for a copy of this booklet:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYCzmof3HebdNgv-CbLkOtBplJ2iEgEE6LZaYwwc8XcDZ1FAn5PvgFf1cAwx3ajNjZIuwZsMerVL2b6rq9rr6Fuc08mLdh1LStNZeyc9fhx3DoUpt1ejihWFNBoGt0yIHZ94xrqzgnZchoTNJsNiSiVtCYpUQZycEGiNYYrKhFaAPBOOsobQFM6iWeww=s350" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="250" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYCzmof3HebdNgv-CbLkOtBplJ2iEgEE6LZaYwwc8XcDZ1FAn5PvgFf1cAwx3ajNjZIuwZsMerVL2b6rq9rr6Fuc08mLdh1LStNZeyc9fhx3DoUpt1ejihWFNBoGt0yIHZ94xrqzgnZchoTNJsNiSiVtCYpUQZycEGiNYYrKhFaAPBOOsobQFM6iWeww=w458-h640" width="458" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>Jim Craighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17632163179301859640noreply@blogger.com0