Sometimes, Older is Better

When our family history takes us across the Atlantic to homes in other countries, we need reliable resources to achieve our research goals. As I work on the roots of my father-in-law's great-grandmother Johanna Falvey Kelly, I've been faced with a collection of place names in County Kerry but I'm lacking any sense of place. Especially when it comes to the concept of townlands, I have no way to relate. I need a map.

Fortunately, Google brought me back in time to a website resource which, years ago, I had known all too well. In its heyday, it was a go-to site for those of us chomping at the bit to use online resources for genealogy—before archives and other repositories were ready to technologically accommodate the deluge of our research demands.

That old resource was called RootsWeb. Originally a smorgasbord of family history tidbits submitted by users around the world in that each-one-help-another spirit, it is now hosted, years after it was launched, by Ancestry.com. Thankfully, many of the original submissions posted on the site are still preserved and accessible. Many of the pages put up by individuals and collectives included efforts which were not only helpful back then in the late 1990s and past the turn of the century, but useful today, as well. It's just that now the material is in read-only format.

Yes, it's been about thirty years since RootsWeb appeared on the online genealogy scene, but now that I'm puzzling over County Kerry townlands for my father-in-law's Falvey roots, what should appear in my Google search, but a link leading me to a wonderful old RootsWeb post on that very subject. And—this is the important part—it includes a series of maps.

Granted, for this month's research puzzle, I had been using the Irish website, townlands.ie, and it is indeed helpful. But frozen in time in the RootsWeb collection is a page explaining Civil Parishes of County Kerry, with links to townland lists and maps. Thus, scrolling down that page to the section containing the map of County Kerry's eighty seven civil parishes, I can click on Kilcummin, for instance, and find the Falvey family's former residence in Knockauncore, just as the church records had indicated. And when I start finding Johanna Falvey and her husband, John Kelly, appearing in townlands in other civil parishes—Killeentierna, for instance, as we'll see next week—I can see the location for myself, and determine the distance between each townland.

The RootsWeb website is now read-only, since its functionality has morphed over the years as computer technology requirements have, by necessity, had to change and upgrade. Seeing what has happened in the effort to preserve Rootsweb over the decades, I shudder to think that someday, that one section of the website with those helpful maps might disappear. My many thanks to those who worked to create those interlinking resources—and I hope those resources remain accessible. But just in case, I did print out a copy of the maps so I could make some handwritten notes as I follow the Falveys and Kellys about in County Kerry. This may be an "old" resource, but it certainly has not lost its usefulness. 

Adding Anne and Patrick

 

What if Patrick Falvey and Anne Fleming could be the parents of my current research target for this month? The documentation I found yesterday looks promising, but of course not sufficient to firmly clinch the relationship between this couple and my father-in-law's great-grandmother, Johanna Falvey Kelly.

I decided to take the risk and enter their names in my father-in-law's family tree for a test run. Then, I jumped over to Ancestry.com's ThruLines tool to see what might materialize among the scant few DNA matches related to Johanna Falvey's line.

While not a stellar result, Patrick and Anne are now listed as the ancestors of eleven of my husband's DNA matches. Most of those matches actually connect through direct relationships to Johanna, of course, but there are now two other supposed siblings from whom some DNA matches descend. The majority of these new connections tie us to descendants from New Zealand, as I had discovered in the past. These are matches whose founding Falvey ancestor, whoever he was, emigrated from County Kerry in Ireland. We still haven't been able to discern the connection, though we've struggled with that for years. Hopefully, discovering more about Patrick and Anne may lead us closer to an answer.

However, since I now have Ancestry's ProTools to experiment with, I can use their "Shared Matches" provision, then sort the results for any given DNA match from closest to most distant relationship.

This approach expands the range of possible Falvey DNA matches from the original eleven proposed by ThruLines to a much broader set of cousins. And depending on the luck of the draw, as I move from one possible Falvey connection to his or her shared matches, I can sometimes find matches whose close relatives have also tested, helping me pinpoint the exact spot in the family tree.

Granted, not that these tools make sorting matches an automatic—or even streamlined—process. I am still bouncing between matches in the United States, in New Zealand and Australia, even in Canada, besides the expected descendants still living in Ireland. But by returning to the original church records in Kilcummin parish, and especially looking for residents of the townland of Knockauncore, I am beginning to piece together a network of parents, children, and even godparent relationships that might reveal a bit more information, despite lack of explicit documentation. Coupling that with a network of DNA matches may supercharge the effort.

The network which draws together these distant cousins from around the world may well be the tool which defeats the destruction of so many historic documents back home in Ireland.

Could This be the One?

There are some times when, seeking records of Irish ancestors, we stumble upon an old entry, stare at the miserable handwriting, and wonder, could this be the one? 

"Is it or isn't it?" That's been a question I've been asking myself repeatedly this month, while trawling through digitized copies of baptismal and marriage records from the 1800s in County Kerry, home to Johanna Falvey in her native Ireland. Despite her position as my father-in-law's great-grandmother, that near relationship could just as well have been several more generations removed, judging from the scarcity of Catholic church records from that century. However, I think I may have found something.

Examining the entries from the church parish of Kilcummin, the same place where we discovered the entry about Johanna's own marriage to John Kelly, I ran across one entry dated years before that, in November of 1824. Seeing the date, I nearly held my breath; it's been so hard to find records from that early in the century for the other branches of my father-in-law's family.

The entry named the groom as Patritius Falvey—Patrick—and his bride as Anna Fleming. Fast forward from that 1824 wedding to the 1853 entry in Griffith's Valuation, and perhaps we have discovered the maiden name for the Anne Falvey listed in that later record from the townland of Knockauncore. And though I haven't yet been able to locate a baptismal record for our Johanna, seeing her years later with her husband John Kelly in their immigrant household in the 1870 census in Fort Wayne, Indiana, reveals one encouraging note: their second-born son was named Patrick, just as Irish naming traditions would lead us to expect—if this marriage record for Patrick Falvey and Anne Fleming is the correct couple.

Finding these encouraging entries bids me take a closer look at what else might have been entered in that church register. After all, between pages fading over time and the challenges of deciphering handwritten entries, a surname like Falvey doesn't always make the transition unscathed in indexing processes. I've seen some entries listed as "Felvey," so I wouldn't be surprised at other variations which could foil the search process. Spotting the family's surname through a page by page search may be my only alternative, but at least there are some compelling possibilities, even on first glance. We'll review some of those next week.

Townlands and Tax Records

 

Working our way backwards in time for Irish ancestors can be challenging, once we've pushed beyond the dates of those most recent publicly available census enumerations—1911 and 1901. It's a struggle to find records on Irish ancestors, once we dive into the 1800s. Still, we've been fortunate to find a church record which seems to be the couple we've been seeking, Johanna Falvey and John Kelly, which contained a reference to the specific townland where Johanna once lived.

Once we've found that potential townland residence for Johanna Falvey's family, let's take a look at any records we can find around the time of her 1859 marriage to John Kelly. One obvious resource would be the tax records of the time, with the one most well-known to researchers being Griffith's Valuation.

Granted, Griffith's Valuation was completed in County Kerry several years before that point, in 1853, but at least that is one resource now available to us online. I pulled up the transcription for the specific townland we're zeroing in on—Knockauncore—to gain a listing of names of the residents.

According to Griffith's, the townland of Knockauncore contained a total of eighteen entries for taxable properties, illustrating the diminutive size of such geographic entities. Even within those eighteen entries, we can see some names repeated within the list.

My first goal was to look for the surname of our Johanna—Falvey. Sure enough, there was one person listed there, by the name of Anne Falvey. Could she have been the mother of Johanna? Hard to tell at this point, but it was definitely encouraging to find someone there in that townland with that same surname.

Next question: what about Johanna's husband, John Kelly? Any promising signs for him? After all, the marriage record only designated where Johanna had lived; there was no such mention for John's residence. Griffith's, however, revealed another encouraging detail: there was someone in that same townland named Mary Kelly.

In addition to those two family names, I decided to make a note of the other surnames in Knockauncore since it was such a small area, keeping in mind the concept of cluster genealogy. After all, those neighbors could also be family members; I just haven't yet been able to see any connections.

Among the neighbors of Anne Falvey and Mary Kelly, I found Fleming, Keane, Duggan, McCarthy, Ryan, Connor, and Sullivan—all very traditional and easily recognizable Irish surnames.

Since I realized that there are other valuation records besides Griffith's posted online, I decided to review the surnames represented in Knockauncore for those other records, as well. After finding two more such records, the next step was to list each tenant's name and create a chart to track which names appeared in which of the three total tax records I had found. This, of course, is almost like the valuation records we find in Ireland today, where one tenant's name remains on the books until lined out with the new resident's name written over the original entry—a great way to trace a house history.

My hunch about the value of tracking neighbors' names may turn out to bear results, an encouraging sign I spotted when looking further for records with the Falvey name. We'll turn to one such possibility tomorrow.

Getting Situated

 

An ancestor's records may point us to her Irish origin in a particular county, and we foreigners get all excited. For someone living in North America, the designation of a county may sound fairly specific, but for those in Ireland, there is quite a way more to drill down before we hit the real answer about where that ancestor's home was actually situated. 

In her adopted new home in Fort Wayne, Indiana, Johanna Falvey Kelly, my father-in-law's great-grandmother, was said to have been born in County Kerry. Admittedly, finding that information on her death certificate and in her obituary represents a great start. But researching Irish forebears, as the advice goes, requires us to drill down to the most specific local region, known as a townland.

Finding a townland can be challenging. Think of this: in County Kerry, there are a mere 2,756 townlands within its boundaries. Ready to start searching?

One way to divide and conquer this maze of possibilities is to seek for the correct civil parish. That approach will essentially whittle down the total of possible townlands to a more manageable number. If we look at the civil parish of Kilcummin, for instance, we now have only seventy six townlands to contend with.

Looking for Johanna—or any sign of other Falvey family members—in County Kerry is best accomplished by looking through government or church records. Fortunately for this particular month's research project, Johanna and her family were among the most recent of my father-in-law's migrating Irish ancestors, leaving Ireland long after the Great Famine—though not long enough afterwards to have made an appearance in the only preserved census records the country now possesses, those of 1901 and 1911. However, the more recent date of migration means we may find her name in better-preserved records than the crumbling, gap-ridden, or entirely missing documents of the years prior to 1850. 

Sure enough, I was able to find one promising marriage record for Johanna Falvey and John Kelly in the church parish of Kilcummin. On March 2, 1859, the Catholic priest noted that he married John Kelly and Johanna Falvey of Knockauncore, with witnesses' surnames Fitzgerald and Fleming.

That "Knockauncore" refers to Johanna's possible townland, a 266-acres package of rural farmland which the Falvey family and their neighbors likely called home. Let's take a closer look at what we can find about records in Knockauncore tomorrow. 

Where the Falvey Name Leads Us

 

While the search for other ancestors may eventually put us in a tailspin, looking for a surname like Falvey has one fortunate benefit: it points us straight to County Kerry, Ireland. Granted, I already know that fact from Johanna Falvey Kelly's obituary, published in Fort Wayne, Indiana, following her 1903 death. But even if I hadn't accessed that old newspaper article, the history of the Falvey surname would guide me in that direction.

It's not every surname which warrants an entry on Wikipedia, but there it is among all the digital entries: a brief overview of the history of the Falvey surname. While it is interesting to know about the long span of the surname's history—or at least its conjecture—descending from one of the High Kings of Ireland, what I want to zero in on this month will be far less regal. All I'm hoping for is the specific line involving my father-in-law's great-grandmother, Johanna. 

For that, just as the Wikipedia entry pointed out, I'm far more likely to find kin if I look at the region around the Lakes of Killarney, or the Dingle Peninsula, as the Wikipedia history surmises, though anywhere in County Kerry or nearby County Cork might be a reasonable target. And, as that article also noted, to look among the common folk in those more humble rural areas.

Sure enough, if we push our search closer to modern times—at least by the time of the still-existent 1901 or 1911 census enumerations—we can see the spread of Falvey residences across the southwestern part of Ireland in surname distribution maps.

Our task this week will be to push back as far as modern documentation can go, to see where the Falvey surname is listed. Granted, this will be a spotty picture, taking in only those on property records or tax rolls. As we do that, we'll also need to get up to speed on the lay of the land: the names and the locations of the townlands in County Kerry which contain mention of the Falvey surname. We have a lot to cover this week, but let's make those townland diagrams our next stop.

Meet Johanna

 

When it comes to stories, we often think of the quaint launch into the narrative: "Once upon a time." That may work well for fairy tales, but in the tales of our family's history, we sometimes must rely on the end of the story before we can learn about the "once upon a time" beginning.

That's the way it has been for my father-in-law's great-grandmother, Johanna Falvey. Most of what I learned about Johanna came from obituaries published in local newspapers in Fort Wayne, Indiana, far from her native home in Ireland.

However, even in the obituaries, I ran into conflicting information. Delighted to learn she had other relatives who also emigrated from County Kerry, I then was stumped by their identity. According to the May 1, 1903, edition of the Fort Wayne Sentinel, Johanna was survived by "several sisters living in Ireland and one in New Zealand." Turning to the next day's edition of the Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette, however, I see she had "several sisters and brothers who live in Ireland."

Fortunately for all us Falvey researchers one hundred twenty-something years later, we now know it is far more likely that the Falvey connection in New Zealand was a brother, if a sibling at all. But even that will take time to puzzle out.

Slowly, I've been trawling through digitized microfilmed records preserved in Ireland, piecing together the story of the Falvey family in County Kerry. Though the specific townlands vary from record to record, it seems the documents are talking about the same family. We'll take a closer look this month at Johanna Falvey's earlier years, long before her arrival in the United States in about 1869. But even piecing that together may rely on more records stateside than across the "pond." And what is found in Ireland may need some additional conjectures as to whether they appropriately fit within Johanna's own family story.

What we know for now is that, back in Ireland, Johanna Falvey married John Kelly, and together they raised three, possibly four, of their children before deciding to move across the Atlantic for a better future. In America, the family headed for Fort Wayne, Indiana—not a typical immigrant destination, but likely in pursuit of a job, based on information already provided from relatives who had traveled there before them.

There in Fort Wayne, the couple welcomed two more sons into the family, and suffered the loss of two other children. There, after working in one of the railroad shops as a blacksmith, John Kelly died in 1892, and his wife Johanna joined him eleven years later in 1903. (Incidentally, never trust what's engraved on a headstone; always seek additional confirmation.)

From what's been preserved from the end of their story in Fort Wayne, we'll try to inch our way backwards through time to discover the earlier years of this couple in Ireland and, hopefully, to piece together names of possible close relatives in County Kerry. In the end, our goal will be to follow those lines of collateral relatives to reveal the connection with not only the DNA matches in New Zealand, but in all the other locations where Johanna Falvey's relatives eventually migrated.

Counting the Results of our Efforts

 

Some research projects seem to shower down multiple tidbits of information, while others only eke out a bare hint of an answer. With last month's slow progress on my father-in-law's Flanagan line, you might expect today's biweekly report to be lackluster. Surprise! That simply isn't so, now that I've counted the results of my efforts.

Truth be told, the jump in this latest progress report is actually owing to a persistent refusal not to let go of the research goal for the previous month. Yep, I've still been working on my mother-in-law's Rinehart line from June, behind the scenes.

While that chore is nothing to write home about, the quest to include descendants of the newly-discovered children of Simon Rinehart has added up to a significant number of names on my mother-in-law's side of the family tree. Just in the past two weeks, with hardly a Flanagan among the names I've been finding, I managed to enter 212 additional Rinehart descendants to my in-laws' family tree. The tree now has a total of 41,059 individuals documented. And I'm still not quite done with that task from June.

My own tree, in the meantime, has stood stock still at 40,259 individuals. I'll resume work on that tree in the last quarter of the year, when I move from my father-in-law's Irish ancestry to the Polish forebears of my own father. In the meantime, we'll begin work in earnest on my father-in-law's Falvey ancestors from County Kerry tomorrow.

When There's a Job to be Done

 

Whether working in genealogical research or in any other line of work, to get a job done, you need the right tools. If this isn't the first time the job's been done, hopefully those tools will be found stored in the right place.

In the case of our task for August—the eighth of my Twelve Most Wanted for 2025 being my father-in-law's great-grandmother Johanna Falvey—I was unfortunately remiss in putting away those tools from the last time I visited this brick wall ancestor's records. Granted, I haven't struggled to piece together Johanna's story since July of 2020, so I guess a little self-forgiveness is in order. Besides, I made up for my shortcomings with some remedial effort yesterday.

Of all my gleanings on the Falvey family in the past, I gained the most information by emailing with an unlikely research partner: a Falvey descendant living halfway around the world from me. For almost five years, we had put our heads together over this research mystery, each of us sharing what we knew about our respective sides of the family. From time to time, we were joined in the conversation by mutual DNA matches, though even with all the input, we still couldn't pinpoint the most recent common ancestors back in County Kerry, Ireland.

Apparently, the Falvey family's descendants are widespread; among the contacts made were descendants all across the United States, as well as in Australia and New Zealand and, of course, Ireland. Comparing notes with several researchers keen on finding their roots can add up to a considerable amount of correspondence. Even if it is digital, it does take up storage space. And it still depends on the organizing skill of putting things where they can be easily found once again.

That was the main task at hand. I've always kept a set of digital folders in my email account for family research communication, organized by surname. At the end of this review session yesterday, I can now say all the Falvey communication is tucked away in its rightful place, having been reviewed as a launching pad for the continuation of this research journey in the coming weeks.

On Monday, I'll re-introduce Johanna Falvey and review what we've already uncovered about her story, but first, we'll need to check on that biweekly review tomorrow. Then, on to the brick wall battle for this month.

Will it be Any Better The Next Time Around?

 

Every time I select another Irish ancestor to research from my father-in-law's roots, I wonder: will it be any better the next time around? There is such a dearth of Irish records. It seems like not much more than an invitation to jump into the document void when I choose another one of those Twelve Most Wanted for the year; all my father-in-law's ancestors came to America from Ireland, the land of destroyed records.

For this month, we'll return to puzzle over Johanna Falvey, my father-in-law's great-grandmother from somewhere in the region known as the Lakes of Killarney. My only positive signal is that her 1903 obituary mentioned being survived by several siblings remaining back in her Irish homeland.

As I mentioned back at the beginning of the year when I selected Johanna as the eighth of my Twelve Most Wanted for 2025, it may be possible that any research progress we make will be thanks to the addition of more DNA matches. I've already been in correspondence with one Falvey DNA match. As if a sign of forthcoming serendipity, not long ago I received an email from another Falvey researcher who was sharing recent discoveries. Perhaps there will be more to find in Ireland, after all.

Each time I return to wrestle with those brick-wall ancestors, I struggle with the idea of trying, once again, to succeed at what I had already failed to accomplish in prior years. Then I remind myself of all the advances in online searching—FamilySearch.org's Full Text search, for instance—and I'm encouraged to try once again. This month's pursuit of Johanna Falvey Kelly will be one of those "once again" attempts at discovering her roots in County Kerry. 

Next Steps

 

At the close of a research project—and that end does come, no matter what the cause hastening it—I always like to provide a to-do list for the next time I tackle the topic. Especially for this Flanagan question, I'll need to keep several next steps in mind.

This month's project involved research on two fronts. On the one hand, knowing that my father-in-law's great-grandmother, Anna Flanagan Malloy, eventually settled in Chicago, this month I searched for more information on possible Flanagan relatives who also may have joined her and her brother William in emigrating from their home in County Limerick, Ireland. This work will need to be continued, especially as I uncover any more on the second front, Ireland.

That second front, thankfully, involves a precise location in County Limerick: the townland of Cappananty. It also includes some distant DNA cousins who also trace their roots back to the Flanagans in that specific townland. The drawback is that, currently, the only records available to me online are some baptismal records, valuation records, plus the 1901 and 1911 census enumerations.

As I build out the family line for James, that possible brother—or cousin—of Anna Flanagan Malloy, I'm not only working on connecting those several distant DNA matches. I'm also watching for clues in naming patterns through the generations, seeking consistency which might inform likely names for Anna's own siblings left behind. I'm also keeping my eye on news about reconstructed record sets previously assumed to be lost to time. And I'm exploring other resources for information, such as websites actually housed in Ireland. International research needs more than just an "international subscription" to an American website; sometimes the key to finding records regarding our international roots is to examine what is available in that country, itself.

I'll need to keep building out those Flanagan and Lee collateral lines, both for the Chicago immigrants and for those family members still listed in records back home in County Limerick. That alone will be plenty of work for the next time I revisit this research brick wall. And, of course, I'll continue the conversation with those DNA matches already contacted, as well as adding new matches who fit specifically into this line. Hopefully, with enough DNA cousins in the picture, we all may be able to come up with a reasonable answer to what happened to the Flanagan siblings both during and after the Great Famine.

For now, another month is almost here—and time to shift to another research project on my father-in-law's Irish roots.

Fading Into the Future

 

There's been a volley of messages exchanged this week between myself and one DNA cousin connected to my father-in-law's Irish Flanagan roots. I'm certainly thankful for the willingness of total strangers to provide so much family information from personal experience and from the memories of their immediate family members. But I'm also awakening to the painful realization that these ephemeral memories are precariously perched on a point in a calendar which stands still for no one. Those memories are fading into the future with each approaching new day.

One Flanagan cousin has been sharing notes about the extended family on the Irish side of the equation, and telling me about the sources for these remembrances. One detail was passed along to me from the preserved memories of an eighty five year old woman; another source was a cousin moving into his nineties. These remembrances represent micro-histories of average, everyday people which, if not preserved, will someday be entirely lost. At some point, there will be no one left to ply with our endless questions about our ancestors' history.

On my side of the equation, I wasn't only asking the questions. I sent back photos and stories of what we had found on that Flanagan family from our trip to Ireland, now over ten years ago. Just to review the details for myself, thankfully I could refer back to posts made here at A Family Tapestry, as this blog has become somewhat of a research journal.

I sent this cousin the story—how grateful I am that someone in our family saw the need to preserve it over the years—of the 1849 letter sent to Anna Flanagan from her husband, Stephen Malloy, on the eve of his departure from Liverpool for Boston. I also shared our experience tracing the very address on that letter's envelope which led us to the place where, most likely, Anna stayed while awaiting news of her husband's arrival in America, and what we found when we got there to see the place for ourselves. 

Perhaps those photos will jog some memories, back in Ireland, for those who still live in that same area. I hope so, for in some cases, all we have left for some family research there is the memories of the oldest generation. And they are beginning to fade.

At the close of a month, I hate to lay aside the research project selected for the past thirty days. The "Twelve Most Wanted" project is helpful in keeping me on task in my research, as well as keeping the research moving through the entire spectrum of the family's ancestry. But thirty days—or even the bonus thirty one days for a month like July—can never truly be enough, especially as we move back through the generations, where the records become sparse and the brick walls impenetrable. I confess I may linger on this Flanagan research problem, even as we launch into a new inquiry in August.

With a Little Help From Friends

 

Lately, I've been clearing out some saved files from family history correspondence years ago. When I say years ago, I do mean that: from the 1990s. In retrospect, I'm amazed at how much we all relied on friends helping friends during those earlier years of online genealogical research. Granted, now there is so much more that is instantly accessible online. Believe me, when I pulled out a twenty-five year old record on all the steps required to order information from the National Archives, that realization was instantaneous. 

Research connections weren't just between individuals and institutions. There were many fellow researchers out there who were willing to share what knowledge they had gained during their own research struggles. Examples of such notes were among those saved in my files. Those genealogy friends' guidance was sometimes priceless during those years of limited—but gradually expanding—resources.

Now that I'm stuck on this research question about Anna Flanagan Malloy's parents' names, the dearth of Irish records from that mid-1800s time period is calling for a work-around. And talking through that research project with some friends and family may be just the answer—or at least the salve to heal my frustrations if there are no answers to be found.

Just this week, I decided to reach out to a Flanagan researcher who had been helpful in prior years. Within less than twenty four hours, this researcher replied, sending photos and writing some memories. While we are both stuck at that mid-century mark, the information shared helped me build out some collateral lines I didn't have before. Filling in these blanks may enable me to play a "what if" game regarding the Flanagan DNA matches I do have, to answer the question of whether the James Flanagan who stayed on in County Limerick was emigrating Anna's brother—or cousin.

Though most of my husband's Flanagan-related DNA matches are distant relationships, if I can connect enough of the collateral lines on the family tree, perhaps I can use the "What Are the Odds" program at DNA Painter to calculate the most probable relationship. With a little more precise information and just the right tool, I may be able to foil this Irish records stand-still, after all.

When You Can't Look Up, Look Out

 

The main research goal this month has been to find the parents of my father-in-law's great-grandmother, Anna Flanagan Malloy. So far, the best I've been able to do is ponder the possibility of a sibling, James Flanagan. However, I can't be sure James was Anna's brother; he could just as well have been her cousin. The only way to confirm that would be to build that family tree upward—but I can't look upwards.

Since that is so, my only other option to looking upwards is to look outwards—to explore Anna's possible collateral lines. In this last week of the month, I'm exploring what else can be found on the line of this James Flanagan of the townland of Cappananty in County Limerick, Ireland. As best I can—keeping in mind the dearth of remaining records in that country—I'm building the lines of descent for the elder James Flanagan, born about 1814 in County Limerick.

Currently, there are seven DNA matches to my husband's test results on Ancestry.com who are possibly descended from this eldest James Flanagan. I need to identify where they fit into this possible collateral line.

Part of that quest can be accomplished through that very slim window of time when these Irish relatives' names showed up in census records in 1901 and 1911. I've already traced the son James and his mother "Bess" that way, but I'll need to branch out and see what can be found in more recent years.

Another approach will be to reach out to the DNA matches, themselves, and see if anyone has a clearer idea of the family history of their Flanagan ancestors. Sometimes, letters or Bible records or other keepsakes can shed light from a more personal aspect than I could gain from my vantage point, an ocean and a continent away from that mile-square townland of Cappananty.

And finally, I've reached out to a Flanagan contact who had exchanged emails with me in past years. While no one is getting any younger, I'm hoping there are still distant cousins left who know some of the old memories and stories from their own grandparents, shared with them years ago.

In the meantime, you know I'll be building out this potential collateral line on Ancestry ProTools' "Networks" beta offering. That tool has become a go-to resource for me so far this summer. Hopefully, it will help piece together the story of James Flanagan's descendants, as well.

Flanagan Fatigue

 

Like a door-to-door salesman, I've pounded the genealogical pavement for over three weeks now, hoping to just get my foot inside an open record collection and find my father-in-law's missing Flanagan forebears. With hardly any prospects at all in that dearth of historic Irish records, by now I'm suffering from Flanagan fatigue.

Granted, I've watched the news eagerly when spotting announcements about reconstructed Irish record sets. There's always the hope that a newly-discovered cache of duplicate records will emerge. As it is, I'm back to hunting for baptismal records on possible collateral lines and hoping a key relative will be mentioned as a godparent.

And then, there's DNA. Knowing that my husband has a few DNA matches related to that Flanagan line back in County Limerick, I thought I'd try out that recent beta offering at Ancestry ProTools, called Matches by Cluster.

Almost immediately, I noticed my downfall: the Clusters program at Ancestry is set for a minimum threshold of twenty centiMorgans. Guess who falls below that minimum...

However, there are quite a few features which I want to explore further on this tool. The enhanced shared matches tool alone has helped me piece together some unexplained DNA matches, and I need to keep working at that task to add in others who are close matches to already-identified DNA matches in both my husband's tree and my own.

As for the Clusters program itself, expanding the clusters readout to take in information on one specific cluster can be useful—although again limited to that minimum threshold of twenty centiMorgans. I may try to partner with some of my known Flanagan matches to see if their readout, above that threshold, will reveal anything about relationships that I can't see due to the slim genetic connection. After all, I did see some others among those Flanagan DNA connections who share a greater amount of genetic material with each other—just not with my husband.

Looking over at the DNA results at MyHeritage, I will update the clusters readout there and see whether there are any Flanagan DNA connections at that website. After all, there are several who have Flanagan in their family tree—but that doesn't necessarily mean their Flanagan connection is on their direct line. Re-doing the clusters there may point to a new connection.

Other than that, for this last week of the month, it will be back to drilling through what few records from the 1840s through 1860s can be found for my father-in-law's Flanagan ancestors. I'm still hopeful—though the research energy is flagging.

The Long and Short of It

 

I have always known, in researching our family history, that ours is an unusual case due to one peculiarity: we have long generations. By that, I mean that from one generation to the next, you will find a longer stretch of time than might be seen with the "average" family's shorter generations. Knowing that my own father was nearly fifty years of age by the time I was born has prepared me to not be thrown by such long spans of time when I research other lines.

Still, when I started work on my father-in-law's Flanagan line—and, in particular, the family of this Flanagan DNA match we've been eyeing this past week—I had my doubts that the match's tree had all the dates right.

Granted, looking at Anna Flanagan Malloy's own line of descent, my father-in-law's great-grandmother, we can see some long generations. If Anna was born in 1812—our guess based on second-hand verbal reports concerning her age, noted in documents—she would have been thirty six by the time her daughter Catherine was born. In turn, Catherine's daughter Agnes arrived forty years after Catherine was born. Agnes' son Frank, my father-in-law, appeared on the family scene when Agnes was thirty six. That was likewise Frank's age when my husband was born.

Still, the span of ages stretching from this DNA match's ancestor to the present generation pushes the envelope even farther. If James Flanagan was born in 1814, as the age at his passing in 1900 indicates, the 1864 arrival of his son James came when the father hit fifty years of age. Almost matching that age span was the next generation, when the younger James' son was born in 1910, forty six years later.

When I first observed the span of years between each generation in this DNA match's James Flanagan family, I felt as if there were one generation missing in that line of descent. But now that we've found the 1864 baptismal record for the second James, and done the math on the elder James' age, at least we now have documentation to back up the assertions.

All that is missing is documentation to give us an idea of how James Flanagan and Anna Flanagan Malloy would be related. If the two were siblings, then my husband and his DNA match would be third cousins once removed; if James and Anna were cousins, the relationship would be fourth cousin once removed. Frustratingly, each relationship could be borne out statistically, the closer at a twenty three percent probability, the lesser at a fifteen percent chance. Now what?

More Flanagan Sightings

 

Still in pursuit of documentation on the extended Flanagan family of my father-in-law's great-grandmother, I went looking at what few records are still available from that time period in County Limerick, Ireland. James Flanagan was listed as the ancestor of a DNA match to my husband's test at Ancestry.com, so I've been keen to piece together that family line.

It was helpful to find someone named James Flanagan listed in the property valuation rolls in the townland of Cappananty in County Limerick at about the same time as our relative William Flanagan, before William left Ireland around 1855. Finding that James once, I wanted to find more of him in Irish documents. That, of course, is difficult, considering the tragic loss of records between that time in the mid 1800s and the 1901 Irish census. But I tried.

Part of the attempt, by reason of loss of alternatives, is to trust what family members post in online trees about their own direct family line, but part of the effort is a leap of faith into the vast void, extrapolating a person's landing place in, say, 1901, after nearly fifty years of absent records. Here is what little I could find.

First of all, we've already found a James Flanagan and Elizabeth Hanrahan in Catholic baptismal records, presenting their son, also named James, for baptism on November 7, 1864. Presumably, as was traditionally the case with Catholic baptisms, the child was baptized as an infant, so likely born in that same year of 1864.

Fast forward thirty seven years, and let's see what can be found of the Flanagans in the townland of Cappananty in the 1901 census. The entire townland is transcribed in the website of the National Archives of Ireland, and by the fourth page of listings, I spot an entry for someone listed as James Flanigan. Looking at the actual document for the 1901 census, we see that James Flanigan listed as head of household, along with two older women, one of whom is listed as Bess Flanigan, his mother. 

Elizabeth?

Granted, James' claimed age as thirty five doesn't quite add up, considering our James was baptized in 1864, but with some rounding upwards, I suppose that estimate could be passable. If this was our James, seeing his mother living in his home suggests she had lost her husband by this point. Indeed, if we can rely on the family tree of our DNA match, the senior James was said to have died in 1900.

Moving on to the next census in 1911, James was in the same townland, but his family situation was different. Gone was any mention of Bess, his mother, narrowing her estimated date of death to a ten year parameter—unless she had simply moved to the home of another Flanagan child.

In her place were six additional people. First listing was for James' wife, Ellen, whom he had married five years prior to that census enumeration. Following Ellen's listing was that for what appears to be two twin daughters, Kate and Lizzie, who at that point were four years of age. Following the twins was another daughter, Mary, three years old. The youngest child in this family was the long-awaited son, also named James.

In addition to James' immediate family, there was one other relative living in the household: a sister, by the name of Anne. That, if you remember, was the name of the other child of the elder James Flanagan and Elizabeth Hanrahan, baptized on July 14, 1867, helping bolster my confidence that we have found, in 1911, the right Flanagan household linked to those baptismal records from almost fifty years prior.

There is one other reason I needed to find some sort of documentation about this James Flanagan family: the ages given. From the family tree I had found linked to that Flanagan DNA match, the generations seemed separated by a bit too long of an age span, causing some doubt. Before we move further, perhaps it would help to examine that sequence of generations, as given by the family member who had posted that tree online. We'll take some time to review that tomorrow. 

Looking for Flanagans in Town(lands)

 

Familiar Irish surnames sometimes cause me to struggle. I can't help but wonder whether I've found the right Flanagan, for instance, since the name is quite common. So I over-extend my search efforts, perhaps for no useful advantage.

Let's consider, for instance, William and James Flanagan, both of whom once lived in the Catholic parish of Ballyagran in County Limerick. The two possible townlands for their residence would be Cappananty and Cappanihane. The two townlands lie side by side just to the west of the modern road N20, exiting the road about halfway between Charleville and Croom.

Cappananty is the smaller of the two townlands, less than even one square mile in area. Cappanihane, which is just over one and a quarter square miles in size, is not much larger. Being rural areas, neither boasts a robust population. I'm hoping that would mean less of a chance of stumbling upon name twins in either place.

Taking my search to old valuation records of the time period when William and James might still be in the area, I did a basic search first for James, opening the search to all of County Limerick, just in case. Of the thirty two results in the valuation records collection at Ancestry.com, one James was in Cappananty Townland, another one was in Cappanihane Townland, and a third entry was noted as "Cappanchane."

Looking further, I realized the records were for different years. While James Flanagan appeared in Cappanihane in Griffith's Valuation—completed in County Limerick by 1853—in an earlier survey which was completed in September of 1849, there was an entry for a James Flanagan in Cappananty Townland, only a few lines away from the 7f entry we had previously found for William Flanagan. James likely moved away from the property neighboring William's, then when William relinquished his lease there, perhaps it was this same James Flanagan who moved back. Remember, after William left, Catherine Flanagan claimed the property until 1866, and sometime between then and 1868, James moved in. 

While I'm guessing the James Flanagan of the 1849 valuation and the James Flanagan of the Cappanihane entry as well as the later 1868 return to Cappananty are one and the same man, I must concede I don't have any paper trail upon which to rest my case—at least, not from property or tax records. There are, however, other places to look for any sign of who this James might have been. 

About Those Irish Naming Conventions

 

As I agonize over lost Irish records, either civil or ecclesiastical, while searching for Anna Flanagan Malloy's parents in County Limerick, I've been trawling through tax records and any other forms that could at least point to a Flanagan name and say, yes, that family was there. Granted, the search has been convoluted, tedious, and frustrating—until I straightened up from my hunched-over position at the computer screen and realized this one thought: the Irish used traditional naming conventions.

Those Irish naming patterns could very well lead me to a likely answer. I say likely, because I may never find an actual document with an official signature that says, "I told you so." But let's take a moment to think this thing out.

According to information on Irish naming conventions, a first daughter would be named after her mother's mother—in other words, the girl's maternal grandmother.

Let's think about this for a while. Here I have Anna Flanagan Malloy, my father-in-law's great-grandmother, who left Ireland sometime between 1855 and 1860 and moved to the American city of Chicago. She it was who received that letter from her husband Stephen Malloy, advising her of his impending departure for Boston in 1849—barely a year after she had given birth to their daughter Catherine.

As far as I know, Catherine was the only child born to Stephen and Anna. Granted—especially considering Anna's age when Catherine was born—there could have been older children lost during the famine. But I don't know that. And I certainly have no records to show that. Nor even any family lore to fill in such blanks.

Considering that, if we consider Catherine to be Anna's only child, that also would mean she was the first-born daughter. In turn, that would mean—if we consider traditional Irish naming patterns—that Anna's mother should also have had the name Catherine.

That would also provide us with the clue, if we find any Flanagan siblings left in Ireland, of a first-born daughter named Catherine among those other Flanagan descendants, as well.

Will the pattern hold true? I certainly can't say. But of one thing I'm sure: it may be harder to find the actual documentation reaching back to that time period than it would be to assemble family groupings of Anna's possible siblings, back in County Limerick.

I will, however, keep an eye on that possibility as I return to the drudge work of drilling through those old tax and property records, looking for nearby Flanagans calling County Limerick their home.

Considering James Flanagan

 

Could the ancestor of a DNA match lead us to the answer we've been seeking about Anna Flanagan Malloy, my father-in-law's great-grandmother? All I know about her Irish origin so far is that her brother William claimed Catholic parish Ballyagran in County Limerick as his native home, and that she received a farewell letter near that spot when her husband sailed for America.

As it turns out, the DNA match I'm considering claims an ancestor by the name of James Flanagan. That ancestor shows up in two baptismal records from that same parish of Ballyagran. In each of the baptisms, James is named as the child's father (in Latin, as Jacobo), along with Elizabeth Hanrahan as the child's mother. 

The older of the two children, a son whom they named James, was baptized on November 7, 1864. Following that birth, their daughter Anna was baptized at the same church on July 14, 1867.

It was interesting to look at the actual handwritten record, specifically to view the names of the godparents. While I'm having trouble deciphering the handwritten entry for son James' sponsors, the names of Anna's godparents nearly jumped right out at me: Ellen Gorman and William Lee. While I can see that the Gorman (or O'Gorman) surname figures in this DNA match's family tree in later generations, what I was keen to notice was the mention of someone with the surname Lee.

Lee, as you may remember, was the married name of another Flanagan relative who eventually migrated from County Limerick to Chicago in the United States. Johanna Flanagan Lee was mentioned as niece of William Flanagan, whose sister Anna was my father-in-law's great-grandmother. While I still don't know who Johanna Flanagan's parents were, it is encouraging to even find mention of another Lee family member in the vicinity of our Flanagans' origin.

Up to the point of the Great Hunger—the cause of so many making their exit from their Irish homeland—tradition had it that godparents were selected based on their relationship to the parents of the child being baptized. Thus, a child's sponsors would be either the sibling or the sibling-in-law of either parent. After the famine years, the tradition wasn't as tightly adhered to, so one can't be sure that William Lee had to be an in-law of James Flanagan or Elizabeth Hanrahan. But I'll certainly keep that possibility in mind as we look through more records in pursuit of this possible Flanagan family connection. 

Probing the Possibilities

 

When it comes to playing the genetic genealogy "what if" game, fortunately there are now some useful tools to help us probe relationship possibilities between specific DNA matches. As we focus on the possible connection between Anna Flanagan Malloy's descendant (my husband, the willing DNA test subject) and a DNA tester descended from someone named James Flanagan, there are indeed a few relationship possibilities—but there are also a few roadblocks standing between us and an answer.

Let's break down the few facts already known in this case. First, despite not yet knowing the relationship between the two test-takers, we can at least affirm that they share seventeen centiMorgans. Granted, that is not a very large amount of genetic material shared between them, but it does tell us something. If we plug that amount into the interactive updated beta version of Blaine Bettinger's Shared centiMorgan Project at DNA Painter, we see some encouraging news: there is a 23% relationship probability that the two subjects in question could be third cousins, once removed. 

For now, I'll provide a brief overview of the descendancy chart provided by the DNA match's own tree posted at Ancestry.com. This person's ancestral connection, James Flanagan, was listed with a birth year of 1814—quite close to our Anna's own supposed year of birth in 1812. According to that same match's family tree, there are two additional generations between that original James and the DNA match, whereas in our case, there are three additional generations.

In other words, comparing the two DNA matches' trees, it looks like the relationship for the two matches would be third cousins, once removed. That level of relationship, according to the Shared centiMorgan Project, would be statistically supported at the 17 cM level—an encouraging sign.

What if, instead, Anna and James Flanagan were not siblings but, say, cousins? Even a fourth cousin once removed relationship would be supported by statistical analysis, with a 15% probability. 

There are some other promising signs. One is that the property in question, that lot listed as 7f in the Valuation Office records for Capananty Townland in County Limerick, was eventually passed from William Flanagan to someone named James Flanagan. And a note in the property records indicated that the property in question was in probate by 1939—one year after that same DNA match's ancestor James Flanagan had died.

Granted, we always need to double check any family trees we find online, to prove the record for ourselves. Since there are a few details in this review which cause me some doubt, that is exactly what we'll need to do next. 

Nothing to Write Home About

 

When it comes to the grunt work of searching for family history documentation, face it: there's nothing to write home about. Grinding through records, page by page—yes, even in this high tech, easy search age—can be, well, a grind. I don't talk about it much, but this tedious searching does keep rolling on, day by day, in the background.

With today's biweekly count, it is easy to see that looking for signs of the Flanagan family in County Limerick adds up to more searching than finding. Last month's research adventure, trying to figure out my mother-in-law's ancestor Simon Rinehart, generated far more documents—and thus, individuals added to her tree—than what we'll see for this month.

Granted, I've continued the search for Rinehart ancestors in the background, despite July's stated goal of moving to my father-in-law's Flanagans; it's just that the routine of adding descendants for those Rinehart matches also belongs to the category of "nothing to write home about." However, that effort did manage to add most of the 232 new individuals included in my in-laws' family tree now. I suspect, once faced with the Flanagan brick wall, that even that halfway decent progress report will come close to a dead stand-still. We'll see in the next two weeks.

Still, my in-laws' tree now has 40,847 individuals recorded. The search is on to see whether any of those will generate notifications of DNA matches, my main goal for adding descendants to each collateral line. I have seen a couple new DNA matches linked, via Ancestry.com's ThruLines tool, to Simon Rinehart's line, thanks to continuing the grunt work following last month's research goal.

Now that I'll be working on the ancestral roots of one Flanagan DNA match during the remainder of this month, perhaps that will generate additional searches for descendants. That, however, is only dependent on whether I can find documentation for the right James Flanagan, the ancestor said to have come from the same townland in County Limerick—Cappananty—as William Flanagan and his sister Anna.

In turn, that means grinding through some digitized microfilmed records. Don't count on seeing any handy hints pop up. This will take some old-fashioned research legwork through documents originating in Ireland. Thankfully, I can now add James Flanagan using Ancestry.com's ProTools option to build him into my already-set-up Flanagan network. Tools can make the job progress so much more smoothly, and I have high hopes that there will be documents to add to this Flanagan network, soon.

Genealogy Gets the Spa Treatment

 

Are you a member of The Club? You know, the one that costs $5K per year for exclusive services for the "most passionate" of genealogy researchers. If you haven't yet heard of it, well, neither had I—until last weekend when the buzz exploded onto several of the genealogy blogs I follow. Curious, I had to take a look. After all, I'd consider myself among the most passionate about genealogical research, not to mention the services which help provide the material needed to find answers about my family's roots.

Apparently, one segment of the genealogy community will soon be getting the spa treatment. For a price.

My first clue about the launch of Ancestry.com's "Club 1890" came in the form of a blog post from outside my own country: Canadian blogger John Reid, mentioning on Anglo-Celtic Connections about an analysis of the offering, posted by genealogist Amy Johnson Crow. Curious, I Googled this new offering to find out more.

As it turns out, Club 1890 had been announced at this year's RootsTech. In addition, Thomas MacEntee, long known to the genealogy community, had posted about the Ancestry offering in his blog, Genealogy Bargains, back in March, shortly after Ancestry's announcement. He has since come out with an in-depth analysis of this development in the genealogy world, posted on his blog just yesterday.

At the same time, he also distributed an article to those in the genealogy community, especially those involved in continuing the work of nonprofit genealogical societies. This emailed article provided suggestions for how genealogical societies could market their own contributions to the world of family history research in the wake of Ancestry's product launch, such as providing affordable alternatives to those wishing to learn how to find their own family's roots—at a far more accessible price point.

Whether Ancestry's new "Club" meets your every research need at precisely the right price, or you are among the vociferous many experiencing negative reactions to this product announcement, it is important to be aware of the developing changes in the world of genealogy—in other word, in the world of the genealogy community. Whether you spring for the price or not, the impact of this new product on the genealogy community may indeed affect you.   

Playing the "What If" Game

 

When DNA testing presents us with a possible family relationship—but doesn't explain how those two people are connected—it's time to start playing the "What If" game. Now's the time to look more closely at collateral lines connected to that brick wall ancestor. In fact, it might be appropriate to take a deep dive into that someone else's family tree—not just reviewing what a DNA match might presume is the family tree, but going so far as to do our own work in building that family tree.

In the case of my father-in-law's great-grandmother, Anna Flanagan Malloy, that is exactly the tempting point where I'm standing now. I can't find any record of her parents' names, but I do have some other information. As far as collateral lines go, I already know that when Anna migrated from County Limerick, Ireland, to Chicago in the United States, at some point she was joined by her brother William. A further collateral line springs from another, as yet unnamed, Flanagan brother whose daughter Johanna also ended up in Chicago. And now, to add to the possibilities of collateral lines, I have a DNA match whose Flanagan ancestor also hails from that same townland in County Limerick—Cappananty—who was known as James Flanagan.

Before I start searching for documentation to confirm or reject this James Flanagan as a possible family connection, let's run down the property record paper trail that I discovered during my trip to Ireland a decade ago. While I wrote about my research in the Valuation Office in Dublin at the time I had found the records—I'll provide the links in this synopsis—I'll just give a quick overview here.

Basically, records used in Ireland for property taxation came in big ledgers with each resident's name in the left column. As the years moved on and changes to residences occurred, the original resident's name was lined out, and—with changes marked in a different color ink—the new resident's name was entered. Thus, going through the property ledgers provides us a house history, so to speak, as the property changed hands.

Back in 2014, I provided the photo of the ledger page where I had found a Catherine Flanagan listed, living in the same property identified as 7f that had been labeled William Flanagan's place on Griffith's Valuation in 1853. Keep in mind, that property would have been within the boundaries of the Catholic parish Ballyagran, which our William, himself, had stated was his native home.

Following the trail of that property labeled 7f through the years, here is the progression of residents' names:

• 1853: William Flanagan
• 1855: Catherine Flanagan
• 1866: Catherine's name lined out, James Flanagan entered, labeled "68."
• 1906: Property now listed as owned by James Flanagan
• 1939: Property in probate (possible date of death for James?)
• 1941: Ledger entry states property "in ruins" with tax only for land, not structures

My "What If" question: what if Catherine Flanagan were William's mother? And what if James Flanagan were a brother to William? Or what if Catherine were a sister to William and James? Or mother to James? 

There could be all sorts of permutations to that "What If" game, and a thousand ways the unsuspecting genealogist could be led down the wrong branch of the family tree. Despite the risks, though, it warrants a closer look at any documentation we can find on this James Flanagan and his family—including the results found among those DNA matches who tie my father-in-law's line to the descendants of one James Flanagan of Cappananty. 

The Gift of Collateral Lines

 

Genealogy is a process of pushing backward through the years, one generation at a time. Eventually, we run into a brick wall that impedes our research progress. Then what? 

I've found one approach to making an end run around those brick walls is to research an ancestor's collateral lines—those brothers and sisters who might have been more fortunate to have their life's story captured by documentation. Using that research technique has been more than just another process; for me, collateral lines have often become a research gift.

With this current puzzle about my father-in-law's great-grandmother Anna Flanagan Malloy and the siblings who traveled with her from County Limerick in Ireland to, ultimately, Chicago, one key collateral line has been Anna's brother William. He was the one who made sure to leave behind a record—carved in stone, no less—of his origin in Parish "Ballygran." Once I took the search for the Flanagan family to that very parish in Ireland, I couldn't help but notice the entry in one 1841 record book signed, in a very clear hand, as Jacobus Flanagan, pastor of Ballygran.

It is in that same parish, whether you spell it precisely as Ballygran or Ballyagran, where the ancestors of one DNA match also happened to live. The ancestor, named James Flanagan—yes, that name, too, would be Jacobus in Latin—may have been born about the same time as Anna and William.

What is further interesting is to see how the names of the next generation echo those of the families of the Flanagan relatives who left Ireland for Chicago. While traditional Irish naming patterns may have been forsaken by those emigrants who left Ireland far behind, those who remained on the home turf were more likely to keep up a tradition which, in turn, could help solve our puzzle—with an added boost from genetic genealogy.

A further point to consider is to trace the changing hands of the property we had found, whose resident was, in 1853, listed as William Flanagan. As a first step in delving into this question about possible collateral lines, we'll take some time tomorrow to review my discoveries from that Ireland trip over ten years ago.

The Lay of the Land

 

It may seem an abrupt jump to leave Chicago and head straight to Ireland in our quest to discover more about the extended Flanagan family of my father-in-law's roots, but there is a method to this meandering: eventually, I hope to explore some collateral lines. To do this, though, we first need to zero in on the lay of the land, back where William Flanagan and his sister Anna, deserted wife of Stephen Malloy, once lived.

Though there were many key Irish documents destroyed in political struggles of the early 1900s, there are enough left us which, combined with that precious saved personal letter to Anna, may point us in the right direction for research in the Flanagans' Irish homeland.

Stephen's letter to Anna, for instance, was addressed in care of a man named John Mason in the townland of Cappanihane. If we pull up records from Griffith's Valuation, which was completed in County Limerick in 1853, we can see, first, a John Mason listed as the holder of several plots of land in that same townland. More helpful to us, though, is the entry above that listing on the same page, where William Flanagan himself is listed on land in the townland just to the west, known as Cappananty (see line entry 7f).

In the property valuation, William's property is listed as a house, office, and garden. It is doubtful the edifice was of much value; driving by the location during our visit to Ireland, of what little we saw still standing in that area, all were modest—and decrepit—structures. But what is beautiful about that discovery is that, if you fast forward through time by visiting the Valuation Office in Dublin to consult the property records from that time onward, you can see one occupier's name lined out and replaced by another, then another, over the course of time.

The first line which replaces William Flanagan's name was that of someone named Catherine. After that point, the next name was lined out and replaced by yet another name as the property changed hands again.

Is this mention in Griffith's Valuation naming our own William Flanagan? I can't yet be sure. However, what is curious about that progression of names seen in the valuation records is that it is echoed by the ancestors named by some of my husband's DNA matches. While we have yet to figure out the Flanagan DNA connection, it may be worth our while to revisit this puzzle once again.

Pulling Out Those Old Files

 

The Flanagan, Malloy, and Lee connection to County Limerick is one that has had me stumped for well over twenty years. That means, of course, that I have files dating back that far—notes that I've kept along this research journey to remind me of what I've already accomplished, what helped, and what still needs to be done. For the past decade, I can safely say that most of those old records have been kept online or in some digital format. But those others? Well, it was time to pull out those old file folders and take another look.

Frankly, I'm stumped on this search. I remember having one printout, faxed to me by a helpful office worker in one Chicago cemetery, which outlined just who was buried in the Flanagan family plot. I remember one of the names on that chart being Edward Flanagan, a puzzle piece I never did manage to connect with the rest of this family.

I went looking for that old Flanagan record, and found...something else. Those old file folders included notes from twenty three years ago, as well as other records gathered in preparation for my research trip to Ireland ten years ago. There were printed copies of death records and census pages and obituaries—all the stuff we are more likely to store digitally, now.

Among those records were notes about the gap in William Flanagan's story. A printout from my visit to the National Archives of Ireland, with penciled-in notes by the archivist who helped me with William's puzzle, listed his trial date for "stealing trousers and former convictions" as March 23, 1851. The trial took place in County Cork, and the sentence was indeed, as the family had insisted, transportation to Australia for a term of seven years.

Underneath that readout was a typed addition: "Convict ordered to be discharged" on May 9, 1855. The archivist added the comment, "shows up in Chicago by 1860," possibly making the note from my report during the archives visit.

That file folder I retrieved also contained a copy of William Flanagan's death certificate. Apparently, William died at 6:00 a.m. Chicago time on August 14, 1893, at the home of his niece Catherine Malloy (by then Tully), so I am fairly confident that the reporting party for that record would be Catherine, herself. In answer to the question, "How long resident in this State," she had responded that William had been in Chicago for eighteen years.

That would date William's arrival in Chicago as approximately 1875—and yet, we had already seen him listed in Chicago in the 1860 census. It's little conflicting notes like this which make me wonder whether more such discrepancies are what cause the man—and the rest of his family—to be so invisible.

However, other notes in that old Flanagan file folder remind me that, in Dublin, I had searched in governmental offices for records showing the location of possible property where the Flanagans may once have lived. At the time, I couldn't be sure my discoveries were of the right family, but now, looking back, I'm ready to reconsider. 

That change of mind is owing to one other observation. I checked my husband's DNA matches again to see who might be connected to that Flanagan side of his father's Irish roots, and was reminded of one contact who, like me, was stumped about the connection—but agreed that there definitely had to be one. Perhaps this time, we can figure out how that connection was made.

But For a Letter Saved

Here I am, grinding slowly through the microfilmed and digitized baptismal records of Flanagan descendants in 1870s Chicago. The pace is slow, despite the awesome advances in online search over the past few years. Even so, this may be no more than a dreary exercise in going through the motions; there is no guarantee I will find any more records from this family, once I move on to the 1880s. 

Thinking of this particular Flanagan line, it occurred to me that I wouldn't have been able to delve any deeper than I have into these Chicago records had it not been through one item: a letter sent in 1849 from Liverpool to County Limerick in Ireland. More to the point: but for that letter having been saved by its recipient, I would now be sorely lacking in any research direction for Anna Flanagan Malloy's roots.

How slim a thread upon which the realization of our family's history may hang. Yes, family research is indeed a case of here a little, there a little—but some of that information gathered here and there wouldn't make sense without the glue of some additional personal material. In Anna Flanagan Malloy's case, that otherwise missing glue would be the letter from her husband.

I've written before about that letter and what it revealed about Anna's possible home in Ireland. I first presented a copy of the letter in the early years of this blog, only months before our research trip to Ireland. Following that post, I added a copy of the actual envelope, which provided the location where Anna Flanagan Malloy was staying in her husband's absence. Only four years ago, I had revisited that letter once again, hoping to find anything more about Anna's husband Stephen Malloy. So far, I've drawn a blank, both about Stephen himself, as well as the Flanagan family.

The lesson that was missing from those experiences has been impressed on me as I revisit this research problem yet again: if it weren't for even having the letter to refer to, I would be hard pressed to move the search anywhere before Anna's appearance in the 1860 census in Chicago.

For those who are fortunate enough to have "packrat" relatives, that pile of hoarded papers may be just that—junk to be quickly discarded—or those papers could be the rare and precious key that links us to our family's otherwise obscured past. 

Sometimes, All You Get Is an Initial

 

I may be focusing on my father-in-law's Flanagan family for July, but behind the scenes for the past two weeks, I've still been trying to build out the family tree of Simon Rinehart, last month's research project. Since I had discovered the name of several more of his children, one goal was to build out the family tree so that I'd find hooks to connect with those mystery DNA matches. Such a process can sometimes be tedious, moving from parent to child to grandchild, and on down through multiple additional generations for each line of descent. If you've worked on a family tree, you know the drill.

For some branches of the Rinehart tree, the process these past two weeks went rather smoothly, but for others, it was a difficult slog. Reviewing document after document, there were instances where the effort yielded very few additional details. Sometimes, despite hours of searching, all that is gained might only be the addition of a person's middle initial. Our tiniest battles are often hard won.

Eventually, though, that puny middle initial gets added to another tiny detail, and then another. Over the course of several searches, we see that mystery ancestor's being take shape before us in our database, and the fuller picture allows us to connect the dots on a family's composition, or point us to the answer we didn't even know we were seeking. We are conjuring up ancestors, data point by data point. Eventually, there is enough data dust accumulated for that ancestor to take shape.

I remind myself of this, every time I weary of the routine—that tap dance in front of my computer screen, reviewing census enumeration after enumeration, or digging through wills or juggling sequential tax records, looking for that elusive connection to the others we can family. For every middle initial we do find, the search brings us one step closer to an answer. It's in the incremental advance that we journey towards finding the completed family picture. 

Where the Flanagan Family Worshipped

 

While we are struggling to determine more about the Flanagan family members after their arrival in Chicago, perhaps it might help to pause the search and explore what we can find on the place where the family worshipped. 

We learned from the baptismal records for three of Johanna Flanagan Lee's children that the family's church was known as Holy Family Catholic Church. Upon learning that name, you might have—as I had—presumed it was yet another of many Catholic Churches in the area. Come to find out, it was worth the effort to learn a bit about the people and places important in our ancestors' lives.

Holy Family Catholic Church was apparently the second-oldest Catholic Church in the city of Chicago. In addition, it has the claim of being one of the few buildings to survive the 1871 Chicago fire—despite the rumor that the barn of one of the church parishioners was where the fire actually started.

More to the point of our inquiry, Holy Family Catholic Church was originally a congregation comprised mostly of Irish immigrants. Eventually, the church grew to claim over twenty five thousand parishioners, so it is no surprise to learn that some estimate one third of today's Chicago Irish-American residents can trace their roots to this church. Should any family historian care to research their roots via the baptismal records from the church, they would be in great company; since the parish opened in 1857, there have been over fifty six thousand people baptized there.

The church itself, located at 1080 West Roosevelt Road, once was a parish encompassing a distance of nearly seven miles, far beyond just the downtown area. However, looking at a map of the area, I can spot some of the streets named in our search for the godparents mentioned in those baptismal records we've reviewed. And Johanna and her husband, John Lee, had moved their family to Fourteenth Street by the time of the 1880 census, still within the boundaries of the church parish.

However, whether the Lee family still lived near the church by the time of the 1881 birth of their daughter Lillian—the first of their children whose baptismal record I could not find listed in the church's index—I haven't yet been able to determine. This will, I suspect, require a second search through those listings or those of other Chicago Catholic Churches, all which will take time. The goal, as before, will still be to see what family-linked godparents might have been identified on those baptismal records—if we can find them at all.    

Our Man Flanagan

 

Chasing after clues about Edward Flanagan, the man named as godfather of Johanna Flanagan Lee's son George, has yielded very little. That he might have been Johanna's father is unlikely, given the impracticality of her father fulfilling the role of godfather for her child. But whether this Edward Flanagan could have been her brother, while a possibility, still leaves me with doubts.

Since we had found two entries for men by that name in the Chicago city directory for 1878, a logical next step was to go back and check the 1880 census once again—this time, eyeing all the different possible spelling variations. With that approach, two possibilities presented themself: twenty two year old Ed on Laurel Street, and the twenty one year old Ed on Fifteenth Street.

Ed on Laurel Street was an Irish immigrant boarding with the Sullivan family, who apparently was joined on his trans-Atlantic adventure by George Flanigan, possibly Edward's younger brother. The other Ed was living in the home of his parents, John and Elizabeth Flanagan. While this Ed's parents were born in Ireland, Ed and his older siblings were born in New Jersey, painting a far different immigration story.

Granted, either of these two young men could have been the correct identity for a godparent of John and Johanna's son, even if they weren't relatives. The baptismal traditions from the Old Country may well have been disregarded so many years after immigration. This may leave us at a loss for how to reconstruct a picture of the cluster of family members who may have immigrated together—but not so severely hobbled us as to cause us to give up the search. There may be other ways to explore this mystery.

One possible way is to take a break from genealogical pursuits and step back to absorb the history of the place where those Flanagans now called home. Since church was such an important part of Irish life, learning something about the family's new church home may provide some pointers.

For one thing, I noticed that the three baptismal records that had been shared by another Ancestry.com subscriber all focused on births from the 1870s. However, when I located the online resource to view all the baptismal records from the Lees' church in Chicago—Holy Family Catholic Church—missing from the index were all the children born after the 1870s. This would include daughter Lillian in 1881, son Edward in 1883, another son David in 1884, and daughters Deborah in 1886 and Mary Elizabeth in 1888. Each of those documents would give us more opportunities to explore whether family members were named as each child's sponsors.

While we're stuck on this pursuit, let's take some time to set aside the certificate search and learn a bit about the church in Chicago where the Lee family attended and had their first three children baptized. Then we can figure out what, if anything, changed for the Lees, once those children of the 1880s were added to the family.