Not a Moment Too Soon

 

Just as I was puzzling over the lack of direction in searching for Flannery ancestors—as they say, not a moment too soon—a book arrived in the mail for me. And though I'll close out my official Twelve Most Wanted search for my father-in-law's Flannery ancestors with the close of this month, this book will form my continuing education plan for not only this family line, but for that of all our family's other Irish immigrants to Canada.

The book was recommended to me in a reader's comment here at A Family Tapestry in a previous year when I had tackled this same family history question. Being an excruciating procrastinator, I only ordered the book this past month, while reviewing the work I had done on the Flannerys in past years' blog posts. And since I tucked in a week's trip to a conference in Houston this month, the book's arrival on my doorstep meant waiting until I came back home—just in time to wrap up the month's research and move onward.

What arrived on my doorstep was a 424-page paperback second edition of Bruce S. Elliott's Irish Migrants in the Canadas. As professor emeritus of eighteenth and nineteenth century social history at Ottawa's Carleton University, Bruce Elliott used the book's platform to delve into a different approach on examining Irish immigrant arrivals specifically from County Tipperary in Ireland—the perfect focus for my Flannery research problem.

While the index does not appear to include any specific entries on the surnames I'm studying, that is not the point of the volume—although several immigrant families are mentioned specifically by name, which can be helpful for some family historians. The value of the work is to guide us through the bigger picture of the immigration patterns found through the author's extensive research both in North America and in Ireland. The underlying historical forces which coalesced to impel many in County Tipperary to migrate, particularly to Canada, will help form the basis of our understanding of why our own ancestors chose that particular route.

When the time comes for me to revisit my unfinished research on the Flannery family in the County of Brant in Ontario, having studied the chapters in this book will have provided me a broadened understanding of the impetus behind the Flannery family's decision to leave home and family for new possibilities in a New World. 

Brick Walls, Canadians, and D N A

 

There comes a time in every family historian's life, I suppose, when one needs to concede arrival at a brick wall. In the case of my father-in-law's Flannery roots, that point may well be looming. On the one end, I'm stuck wandering in circles after the 1851 census, back in Ontario, Canada, seeking whatever became of his great-grandmother Margaret Flannery, while back at their pre-1850 origin in County Tipperary, Ireland, all signs of life for either her Flannery family or that of her husband, Denis Tully, disappear in the early 1830s.

It is, however, still hard to give up. That is what prompted this weekend's turn to DNA results. I experimented at first with searching for other matches whose family tree includes the surname Flannery. Several results popped up—even one whose own surname is actually Flannery. There is, however, one problem with building out our Flannery tree to the present time to connect with such matches: for those who live in Canada, I have few resources to help research living Canadians.

Privacy is highly valued, and rightly so, but I can think of so many resources I have in my own country to find living descendants of my family's ancestors. Many of them are accessible on genealogy services like Ancestry or MyHeritage, while Internet search engines can handily go beyond that to fill in the blanks. But for Canada? No matter how close Canada may seem to me, that is a different research world entirely.

Sometimes, as the saying goes, you can't get there from here. Not easily, at least. Though those Flannery descendants may have migrated to the western portions of Canada as our family has done in the United States, that border between neighboring countries seems impermeable.

There are ways to get around that impasse, as I've discovered while researching an Irish puzzle a while back. Even searching using Google.ie rather than the usual Google suffix here in America brought up a different set of search results for my Irish question. It will likely be the same for my Canadian puzzle this month. It's just a matter of digging deeper, checking resources, and experimenting with different approaches. 

And then, there's always that old fashioned approach, too. You know, just sending a message directly to that DNA cousin. Even in our high-tech world, the personal touch can still bring us a long way.  

Rich Uncle, Elected Nephew

As we follow the immigrant trails of the earliest Canadian settlers in the riverside valley locale eventually known as Lodi, California, we begin to see connections between these families. Just yesterday, not only did we realize that John Hutchins of Ontario, Canada, arrived along with his entire family, but that his oldest sister had married another of Lodi's early landowners, Ezekiel Lawrence. It was these two men, along with some others, who apparently secured Lodi's downtown site as stop along the way for a new Central Pacific Railroad route in 1869. If nothing else, John Hutchins was rich in land and ingenuity.

After their 1857 marriage and move to San Joaquin County, John's sister Mary Hutchins and her husband, Ezekiel Lawrence, had three children: William, George, and Nettie. The middle child, George, became focus of one of the many biographical sketches in George Tinkham's History of San Joaquin County. From that resource, we learn that George was born on his parents' property in Elkhorn Township—eventually to become the city of Lodi—and attended "district schools" until his enrollment in Saint Mary's College. After receiving a bachelor of science, George Lawrence returned to his hometown to study law. He soon was elected Justice of the Peace of Elkhorn Township, the same place where his parents had settled, back in 1857.

By the time citizens of Elkhorn Township were ready to entertain the possibility of incorporating the city of Lodi, it was 1906. The vote passed, by a margin of two to one, and immediately after the official date of incorporation on December 6, the new city's board of trustees elected George Lawrence as their first mayor.

By the time George Lawrence was elected to the first of his two terms as mayor, both his dad and his uncle—the two neighboring landholders who had been so instrumental in the formation of what would eventually become the city of Lodi—were gone. His dad, Ezekiel Lawrence, passed in 1899, as did his uncle, John Hutchins.

It will take a lot more reading between the lines to learn what roles, if any, were played by these two brothers-in-law in the political success of Lodi's first mayor, George Lawrence, but that is all the same as the original quest which introduced me to this research project in the first place: just who the city had in mind when they named one of their major streets after someone named Hutchins.

From Canada to California: Finding the Path

When our ancestors reported their place of birth as a foreign country—as, for instance, simply "Canada"—there is not much to learn in such a statement. Canada is a wide country, stretching from ocean to ocean in the same manner as the country to which our specific immigrant subjects immigrated.

One research technique is to follow the families backwards in time through each decade's census. That means, taking the John Hutchins family of Lodi, California, as an example, we would locate them in the most recent census record we can find, and then, using the details gleaned from that document, work our way backwards through the decades.

We already know from his biographical sketch in George Tinkham's History of San Joaquin County that John Hutchins crossed the continent from Ontario in 1853. Just which direction his journey took him, the article doesn't mention. To read Tinkham's entry, one would think John Hutchins—a teenager of about seventeen at the time of this migration—had made the journey by himself, but that is apparently not the case.

Looking at the 1880 census, we can find John along with his wife, the former Anna Nevin, and their children, Nellie, John, Edward, and Mary. The census reports that John was born in Canada, and that his parents were from Ireland. Likewise, the 1870 census shows that John was born in Canada, but that his two year old daughter was born in California—thus, gradually narrowing the time frame of his travels.

Moving beyond the date of his marriage to Ann Nevin to find John Hutchins before that 1870 census means looking for a single man—or, possibly, a young man in the household of his parents. This, fortunately, became the case for our search, finding a possible John Hutchins in the home of his namesake, his father John Hutchins, in the same Elkhorn Township of San Joaquin County, the very place from which the city of Lodi was later established.

The 1860 census shows this young John Hutchins reporting his age as twenty four, putting his year of birth as 1836, agreeing roughly with what we had gleaned from later census enumerations. Again, it showed his birth to be in Canada, and his parents, John and Catherine, to be from Ireland. Along with the junior John, the other family members were his (presumed) siblings James, Thomas, Hannah, Catherine, and Henry. All but the youngest—who at that point was listed as twelve years of age—had been born in Canada. Henry provided the location of the next stop in this Hutchins family's migration by the place of his birth: Iowa.

Indeed, in Dubuque County, Iowa, for the 1850 census, there was a family of an Irish couple, John and Catherine Hutchins. With one addition—that of a daughter named Mary—the family constellation remained the same, with John, James, Thomas, Hannah, Catherine, and Henry all making their appearance. The only catch was that each of the children was listed as having been born in Michigan, not Canada. Could that have been the family's entry point from Canada? Or were their parents fearful of divulging their foreign origin?

A quick double check of California's Great Register in the 1870s confirms, however, that Elkhorn Township resident Henry Hutchins—the baby of the family—claimed to have been born in Iowa (see entry 2538), while older brothers John (see entry 2485) and James (see entry 2565) had to declare the date and courthouse of their naturalization, as having been born in Canada, not the United States. Unfortunately, any Canadian census records before that point of the Hutchins family's departure from Ontario only sparsely covered the territory, leaving us without any further direction as to where, exactly, the Hutchins family had settled in that part of the British Empire.

There was one bright spot in the monotony of this exercise, however: the discovery of oldest sister Mary in the 1850 census, and her subsequent disappearance from the 1860 Hutchins household. By the time of that later census—if we can believe the age reported for her in the 1850 census—she would have been twenty eight. Very possibly, she was by then married and living in a household of her own. But where? Left in Iowa? Or continuing with the family to California?

Perhaps it was merely coincidence, but appearing in the biographical sketch of another pioneer of Lodi was the mention of his mother's maiden name as Mary Hutchins. As it turns out, that same person's father's name is one we've seen before. The father, Ezekiel Lawrence, was one of the men named as having had a hand in the establishment of the downtown area of what was to become the city of Lodi, California. If this is so, the younger John Hutchins and Ezekiel Lawrence were not only business associates and neighboring property owners, they were also brothers-in-law!

Of a Feather

One discovery, in researching the five men credited by local history as having a hand in the formation of the city of Lodi, California, was how many of them had Canadian roots. This could merely be a curious coincidence, or it might be a detail worth pursuing. Since the pursuit of family history is not simply the study of individuals—as if they were independent, individual actors throughout their lifetime—but an observation of the collective actions taken by people who were closely associated with each other, it makes sense to handle this study of Lodi's founders in the same way.

Cluster genealogy—that study of the micro-history of families in relationship to their social and other connections—may serve our purposes at this juncture in my research project. Sometimes called the "FAN Club," this cluster, people taken in the aggregate, may provide hints generated by the whole group, whereas studying each person as an individual might fail to reveal broader connections.

One of the principles of the "FAN Club" is that people, moving from their home to settle in new territory, seldom make such long journeys alone. While I've been wandering in research circles, trying to determine just how the California city of Lodi actually was established, I've run across enough clues to tell me that not just one of the original settlers in this new state came from Canada. There apparently were several more.

Now, considering that Canada is a large country—and that even saying something like, "They both came from Ontario" seldom tells us much—it might seem like a fool's errand to determine just where in that immense dominion the exact town might have been, if even one location. But I'm game to trace these Canadian immigrants to see whether their paths coincided on their way from Canada to California.

For one thing, migration patterns seemed similar. Wherever these settlers started in Canada, their goal was to arrive in California as soon as possible after the news flash about the discovery of gold in the northern foothills. Young men being young men, the pattern included a marriage to another Canadian, usually in El Dorado County, likely at the county seat of Placerville—or, as it was known in that era, Hangtown. The finale to this pattern was obtaining a large tract of government land somewhere in the new state of California—for some coincidental reason, specifically in a place called San Joaquin County.

I've been focusing, in the past week, on the men named in an old history of the county as being key in establishing the downtown area which eventually became the city of Lodi. My original focus was on a man whose surname has somehow—through recognition of this man, himself, or others—become the name of a major street and cultural center in the city. However, as I branched out to the other four men listed as city fathers, I began realizing some of them, too, claimed to have come to this isolated valley in California from an undisclosed place in Canada.

The question is: which place in Canada? Or should we say, places?

To start this exploration, let's take a deeper look at the paths taken by the families of John Hutchins and Ezekiel Lawrence, tomorrow.

O Canada!

For those of my friends beyond the border up north—and for all those distant cousins of my father-in-law's Irish-Canadian ancestors whom I've yet to meet—today begins an extended weekend's celebration of Canada Day, anniversary of the July 1, 1867, British North America Act that united four provinces into the Dominion of Canada. Not only that, but this year marks an especially significant designation: Canada 150.

Those of us so focused on researching our American roots that we won't even lift our heads from our computer screens until the Fourth is upon us may want to pause to take note of our neighbors to the north. Sometimes, that "kith" may turn out to be "kin"—as I found out when puzzling over where my father-in-law's Irish ancestors disappeared after leaving famine-stricken County Tipperary. I knew where they lived in Ireland, and I sure knew they ended up in Chicago—but where were the passenger records to demonstrate their arrival in the United States? Clue: they didn't arrive in the U.S. They came by way of Canada—staying long enough to be counted in at least two census enumerations in Ontario.

The same can be said for family members I've researched who settled out in the western territories of the northern United States. Reading through accounts of the era in places like the Dakota Territory, it seemed like a small thing for a family to bounce between, say, Fargo and Winnipeg. It didn't matter that each of those cities belonged to different countries. The affinity to the locale was regional, not geopolitical to a specific nation. Once again, the full story could only be pieced together by documentation from each of the two countries.

It is true that, like the United States, Canada has a rich multicultural heritage—as, for instance, Canadian genealogy blogger John D. Reid mentions in a recent guest post for MyHeritage. However, it is also true that some of the people now celebrating Canada Day on the first of July may once have had ancestors who saluted the Stars and Stripes on the Fourth—and vice versa, for many living in the United States who now assume their roots were always solidly established in the lower forty eight.

I am quite certain there are more of us who, if we took a look across that same border, might find the missing pieces to our genealogical heritage. That's why I have two must-read Canadian genealogy blogs on my daily reading list: John Reid's Canada's Anglo-Celtic Connections and Gail Dever's Genealogy à la carte. Both are excellent resources for those wishing to familiarize themselves with what's available for researchers seeking their Canadian roots. I consider a daily tour through their informative offerings to be my learning-by-osmosis opportunity.

Of course, there are many more Canadian resources—including Gail Dever's constantly updated listing, "Facebook for Canadian Genealogy." There are also quite a few excellent genealogy blogs produced by our fellow researchers in Canada. And though one blogger's "Canada's 150th Genealogy Challenge"—post a list of all your ancestors living in Canada in 1867—may have originally expected participants joining in to be fellow Canadians, I'm sure quite a few of us from the States could add our list to the comments there, legitimately, as well.

Hiding in an Outpost Up North

Oh, dear. It seems there might be a tiff brewing in a neighborhood across the border. Why is it no good deed can go unpunished?

Since I've been floundering around in my desperate attempt to find missing ancestor Margaret Tully—last seen in the tiny village of Paris, Ontario, in 1861—I've been keeping a close eye on all developments Canadian. Especially on those resources which promise to help me find said Margaret via online access. After all, I'm in California and she—or whatever shred of evidence may remain to perpetuate her memory—was in Canada. Eastern Canada. Like, about twenty five hundred miles from here.

Over the years in which I've been pursuing the Tullys—backwards in time, of course, starting with their landing place in Chicago after that temporary Irish immigrant's lull in Paris—I've been gathering what resources I could find for Canadian genealogical research. I have always been thankful for the genealogical forums at RootsWeb and GenForum, where helpful fellow researchers have pointed me in the right direction, no matter which (awkward beginner's) questions I asked. But I've certainly been glad when the avalanche of digitized documentation began appearing on sites like FamilySearch.org and Ancestry.com. Even better, I've just loved the appearance of those blogs written by Canadian genealogists—but then, perhaps you could say I'm partial to the blogging medium.

So it was with great interest that I read a recent post by long-time blogger, Lorine McGinnis Schulze. Lorine has been online for years—make that decades—so she is well known by those who have benefited from her many blogs, books and other genealogical publications. If you have ever heard of Olive Tree Genealogy, you have heard of Lorine.

Apparently, although I'm sure Lorine meant well—and provided some sterling ideas on how researchers and bloggers can support each other—it seems some have taken exception to her post.

Here's what happened.

First, let's get some background details. A few days ago, another Canadian genealogist posted a brief article on her blog (which I follow), including a side observation that "there has been a fair amount of discussion about the all too small number of Canadian genealogists recognized" in the survey known as "Rockstar Genealogist 2015."

What is the Rockstar Genealogist survey, you ask? Ah, here's some more background information. The Rockstar Genealogist survey is now an annual occurrence created and coordinated by another Canadian blogger (whom I follow) named John D. Reid. Voting this fall concluded his fourth year of hosting this online event.

The way Mr. Reid conducts this activity is to first open with a call for nominations, which is accessible by all online for a set period of time. Once nominations are closed, he opens the slate for all who are interested in voting—once again, conducted online. Voting is open to all who wish to participate and closes at a designated date and time.

This past year, the Rockstar Genealogist survey was completed by a total of just over two thousand participants. That, by the way, is the worldwide count for everyone who voted. Keep in mind, Mr. Reid also keeps tabulations on who it is that voted, and divulged that information—as well as the voting results, of course—in subsequent blog posts.

It is interesting to note that, of those two thousand genealogy enthusiasts participating—limited to what he dubs the "English-speaking genealogy world"—while there were votes garnered from Australia, New Zealand, Ireland, the U.K., the U.S., and, of course, Canada, the largest voting block was comprised of Americans. In other words, 58.8% of votes came from the U.S., while the percent of voters from Canada edged in at just 11.87.

If you were not aware of this keenly-followed contest, you are likely not alone. Save for those two thousand some-odd in the know (people like me, following his blog because we are researching our Canadian heritage), the rest of the genealogy world has been oblivious.

On the other hand, at Mr. Reid's invitation—"Tell your friends; ask them to vote; suggest who to vote for"—I've seen some competitive and fun-loving bloggers lobby hard for their followers to vote for them. Frankly, I saw so much of that this year that I refrained from voting, myself.

When it came time for the big reveal, with barely twelve percent of the respondents voting hailing from Canada, was it any surprise that their best-loved, nationally-known genealogists didn't show well in the final count? They were out-voted by the larger, non-Canadian voting block.

Perhaps this was surprising, considering the idea was originated by a Canadian and promoted on a Canadian blog. Yet, apparently, since then, a number of Canadians have been disconcerted by the outcome of this Canadian poll. Thus, the comment by Gail Dever. And the post by Lorine McGinnis Schulze asking, "Where (and why) are Canadian genealogists hiding?"

What was encouraging about Lorine's response—"I'd like to see all of those who contribute to Canadian genealogy recognized, not just those who speak at conferences"—was encapsulated in her suggestion to draw up a list of Canadian genealogists and bloggers to share. Already, there is a list on her blog of nineteen names and links that she supplied, plus upwards of fifteen additional resources provided by her readers in the comments.

But it was in the comments that something started brewing. Perhaps someone took the post in the wrong spirit. Or misunderstood. Whatever happened, hopefully, everyone can evade further negative energy and get back on track, pursuing the pertinent issue: who are the Canadian genealogists, and how can we find them?

Lorine promised an updated, combined list in a subsequent post—likely, next week. No matter who you are—Canadian, American, Australian, New Zealander, Irish, British, Scottish—if you are researching any roots (or branches) in Canada, this will be a list you'll want to save.