Quest for Collateral

 

When stuck on the line of a direct ancestor, a suggested work-around is to examine what can be found on that individual's collateral lines—the lines of siblings or other relatives. Our quest seeking the roots of our many Falvey-surnamed DNA matches has led us from Ireland to New Zealand to, in this instance, the in-laws of Mary Falvey O'Leary.

Apparently, some people's obituaries are more equal than that of others. For all the accolades we could find for Mary Falvey's spouse Humphrey O'Leary in New Zealand newspapers, there are comparatively few for the father-in-law of his daughter, an immigrant by the name of Garrett Barry. So much for my idea of tracing that Barry connection back to Ireland, where a possible baptismal record for Humphrey also included a mention of that second surname, Barry.

Still, for the record—and since I went through the steps to find this—here's what we can learn about the direct line of a DNA match whose Falvey ancestor was connected by marriage to relatives with that Barry surname.

The nexus is Mary and Humphrey O'Leary's daughter Ellen. The third of the O'Leary daughters, Ellen was generally known by the nickname Nellie. In 1914, Nellie said "I do" to a young man by the name of Patrick James Barry—that Barry surname echoing the name of a sponsoring relative named in a possible baptismal record of the bride's own father, back in County Kerry. Could Nellie have married a cousin? Could that connection help us confirm whether we had identified the right record? 

From her untimely death in 1937, we can glean from Ellen O'Leary Barry's several obituaries the details of her life. For one, we can verify that we are indeed talking about the right Nellie Barry, for her siblings are mentioned in reports of her death. Other details of her history come out in, for instance, this 23 August, 1937, insertion in the Wairarapa Daily Times, which mentioned that the late forty seven year old woman was once a "noted Wairarapa hockey player" active in many tournaments with her champion team.

For our genealogical purposes, though, we are keenly interested in any listing of her children, and find them in an obituary dated that same day in the Manawatu Herald: surviving were daughters Joan, Molly, and Helen, plus sons Frank and Pat. But for our pursuit of the origin of that Barry connection, we need to push still further.

A Foxton cemetery transcription shows us not only the inscription for Nellie's headstone, but indicates that a contiguous plaque provides the date of death for her husband, Patrick James Barry, in 1950. That later date, of course, makes it difficult to obtain any records or even newspaper reports, but there were still some details I could glean on the Barry family tree. 

Let's see what can be found for the new son-in-law of Humphrey O'Leary. Turning to New Zealand birth records, which fortunately are available for the beginning of his life's story, we discover that Nellie's husband, Patrick James Barry, was born to Hannah and Garrett Barry in 1883. That documentation of a New Zealand birth, of course, requires us to push back another generation before we can find the Barry family's origin in Ireland. 

Unfortunately, I was unable to locate any passenger record for a reasonable date range for the elder Barry, but lack of such record was nearly compensated by the discovery of a mention in a newspaper of Garrett Barry's arrival in New Zealand. Though not as much could be found of newspapers mentioning the senior Barry man, the Marlborough Express on May 10, 1894, reported, following his sudden death, that Garrett Barry had lived in Blenheim in the South Island for the past thirty years, and that he first arrived in Nelson in 1859. His origin in Ireland? No other detail but County Kerry.

Interestingly, the newspaper article also mentioned his brief business partnership with a "Mr. Humphrey O'Leary of Redwoodtown," likely the other Humphrey O'Leary I had found in passenger records. Whether that was strictly business, or a hint of a family connection, I can't tell.

From this point, it was to searches of records in County Kerry in which I tried, in vain, to locate a reasonable document indicating Garrett Barry's own origin. Based on his 1894 death record and mostly brief newspaper reports, he had died at age fifty, pinning his birth date around 1844. Once again, however, tracing a collateral line has failed us in leading to the vicinity of the extended Falvey, O'Leary, and Barry families' origin.

That said, though it may still be possible that Nellie O'Leary chose as her spouse a cousin—if the Barry line were indeed connected to her father's line, back in County Kerry—we have no way to document such a possibility.

With all that exploration, we now need to step back, dust ourselves off, and reassess the research situation. It's possible that, for now, we may need to set aside this pursuit of New Zealand Falvey connections and await further availability of documentation.

 

Relentlessly Circling the Drain

 

Does it seem, in some genealogical tasks of identification, that the effort seems to repeat, ad nauseam, the same iterations with only the slightest of variation? We test one hypothesis, then another ever so slightly updated, and then still another—and are still left with the same doubt. Perhaps this is the fate of anyone attempting to circle the specific family origin of their Irish ancestor.

Yet, with the case of Mary Falvey—whose descendant is a DNA match to my husband, leading us back to County Kerry, Ireland, from Mary's final resting place in New Zealand—she may have left us some sturdy hints with the identity of her own children. If that is so, we may also be able to confirm the identity of her husband's parents through a possible baptismal record for him—Humphrey O'Leary—back in that same County Kerry location.

From Humphrey O'Leary's 1934 obituary, the listing of his surviving sons provides their birth order: John, Joseph, Humphrey, and Mark. While we are unable to place the deceased son Patrick in that sequence, based on what I can find from other online trees—I know, a risky proposition at this point—he may have fallen into line as the second of the sons, between John and Joseph.

As for the daughters in this O'Leary family, their birth order may have been Margaret, Mary, Ellen, Kathleen, Annie, and Ella Josephine—the anonymous "Mrs. J. Brophy," whose given name surfaced after I located her record in the New Zealand database of marriages prior to 1940. I emphasize "may have been" as the previously-deceased daughter Mary was not included in the obituary in birth order.

Now that we have this data laid out in an order we can study, a few details surface. Recall that there were two possible baptismal records I could find for Humphrey O'Leary back in County Kerry, Ireland. One was from a digitized copy of the actual parish record for a son born in December of 1854—a bit late for the details gleaned at the opposite end of this man's life—citing "Dionysii Leary" as the father and Anna Sullivan as his mother, with two "Leary" relatives listed as sponsors. The other baptismal record was a transcription for a Humphrey O'Leary born in September of 1853, agreeing more closely with the date suggested by later reports.

Admittedly, there are difficulties with assuming that our choice lies with one or the other of these two records. The possibility is there that other baptismal records might also have existed at that time for someone with that same name in County Kerry, but which unfortunately did not survive to the present day, or have not yet been included in either scans of documents or transcription projects. Who knows? Perhaps another such record does still exist, but because of abysmal handwriting, the details were incorrectly transcribed or indexed, and thus will not come to our attention without a deeper search. We cannot simply assume there are no other choices.

However, given these two possibilities, we may have enough information solely from the names of Humphrey's own children to deduce which of those baptismal records might be the more reasonable choice. It all comes down to the question of whether Humphrey and Mary, being immigrants in a new land, chose to carry forward to a new world the naming traditions of their Irish origin.

One cannot help but notice that Humphrey's obituary featured as his oldest son a man by the nickname of Jack—typically a substitute for the more formal John. Likewise, the transcribed baptismal record from the parish at Tralee declares the father's name to be John.

Granted, this naming pattern does not always hold fast, as one website devoted to researching Irish ancestors explains. If we turn to the listing of Humphrey's daughters, we now know that the oldest daughter would appropriately receive the name of her mother's mother—which in this case would indicate that Mary's mother was named Margaret, not Humphrey's. And yet, that same article on naming patterns in Ireland explains that sometimes the sequence is set aside for extenuating circumstances; the recent death of a close relative might call for the naming of the next child in that relative's memory.

All that to say, it is not lost upon me that Humphrey's mother's name in that transcribed baptismal record—same as for his oldest daughter—was Margaret.

The other troubling detail about that possible baptismal transcription is that the mother's name is listed as Margaret "Leary," not O'Leary, which would be her married name. Baptismal records generally used a woman's maiden name. Was hers actually Leary? Or was the priest—or the transcriber—in a rush, inadvertently substituting the wrong surname?

Looking at the names of the sponsors to this baptism brings up another question: how are they related to the parents? According to that same Irish naming tradition article, each godparent was either a sibling to one of the parents, or a sibling-in-law. With this Humphrey's sponsors listed as James Barry and Elizabeth Hurley, we wonder how each of these were related to the parents. James Barry would either be the husband of Margaret's sister, or the husband of John's sister, for instance. Likewise, Elizabeth Hurley would need to be an in-law, as her name as given in the record would have used her maiden name.

The curious detail is that, looking back to Humphrey O'Leary's obituary, we spot that same Barry surname echoed in the married name of one of his daughters. Could she have married a cousin? Can we trace the roots of daughter Ellen O'Leary's husband, Patrick James Barry, back to County Kerry, as well?

And, once again, we take another lap around the question of where, exactly, Humphrey O'Leary and his wife Mary Falvey originated. Perhaps, in circling this research problem one more time, we will find a clue to lead us to answers.

Or not. 

 

Sketching a Tentative Tree for Mary

 

When working with DNA matches for whom I only have the vaguest of theories of family connection, I've taken to plugging their founding ancestor in to my family tree—anywhere, just pick a place—and then "detaching" her from the tree. I just need a toe-hold to get started—say, part of the Falvey family branch of the tree—but no choice in the current tree will be quite right.

Having found the obituary—make that several obituaries—for Humphrey John O'Leary, husband of the mystery Mary Falvey who somehow is related to my husband's second great-grandmother Johanna Falvey, we now have a listing of the couple's descendants. Though I am an American researcher stepping tentatively into the world of New Zealand genealogy—Mary's descendant, my husband's DNA match, came from ancestors who immigrated to New Zealand—there are a few similarities in the records we rely on. Thankfully, the birth order listing of children is a common thread between the two countries' obituaries.

Thus, from Humphrey O'Leary's 1934 obituary, we learn that his sons, in likely birth order, were Jack (probably John), Joseph, Humphrey, and Mark, with the already deceased Patrick left out of the sequence. 

Finding the details on Humphrey's surviving daughters was not the same one-step process as for the sons, as each was listed under her own husband's first initial plus married surname. To piece this together took some searching through the New Zealand government's Births, Deaths and Marriages Online website. This, of course, meant that only marriages prior to 1940 would be revealed in this listing—of which I was certain to have no hindrances, given the O'Leary children were all born before 1900.

Then, from those O'Leary women's marriage records, I cross checked names with the birth records, to ensure we had gleaned the daughters of Humphrey and Mary O'Leary and not another O'Leary couple. Based on that two-step process, I determined the following from the married daughters listed in their father's obituary:

• Mrs. T. Peters was Margaret O'Leary
• Mrs. P. Barry was Ellen O'Leary, nicknamed Nellie
• Mrs. A. Ascott was Kathleen Elizabeth O'Leary
• Mrs. J. McKenna was Annie Agnes O'Leary
• Mrs. J. Brophy is still unidentified
• the deceased Mrs. P. Griffin was Mary O'Leary

All but the deceased daughter were listed in order of their age, though when I checked for birth records, Mary appeared to be the second-born of the daughters.

This brings up a couple research questions. First, knowing that Humphrey and Mary were emigrants from County Kerry, Ireland, how likely would it be that they kept their homeland's naming pattern tradition—and if so, can we extrapolate anything from this particular listing? The second question considers the surnames of these spouses: were any of them also born in Ireland? If so, could there be any connection between them and the parents of either Humphrey or Mary?

This latter thought was prompted by my exploration of baptismal records, back in County Kerry. There is, after all, this other hint about baptismal records: that the sponsors for the child were likely siblings or in-laws of either of the child's parents. Could that Barry name from one of Humphrey's daughters be related to the godfather listed for Humphrey, himself? 

Connecting With County Kerry

 

How hard it seems to be to connect the generations of Irish descendants with their origin in famine-era Ireland. Especially for those with Catholic roots, the question is always there whether records have even survived over the generations—or, for those few which have been preserved as transcriptions, whether the records were accurately reflected in the process.

To search for the Falvey line among our DNA matches has been straightforward on one point: these Falvey ancestors claimed their heritage as County Kerry. But where in County Kerry? For my husband's second great-grandmother, the best we could find was a newspaper article at her passing which credited the location as the Lakes of Killarney. While that may seem helpful, it is nearly useless as such a generic label.

Tracing the generations of my husband's Falvey DNA match in New Zealand—one match of many, though the closest to date of the tests at Ancestry.com—I chose not to trace Mary Falvey, the actual ancestor, but her husband, Humphrey O'Leary. There were several reasons for this, not least of which is the difficulty with searching not only a married woman—who most likely would be listed in the few public mentions I'd find as Mrs. H. J. O'Leary—but a woman with a name as common as Mary.

Fortunately, Mary's husband was held in high regard at the time of his 1934 death. Correspondingly, there was much to be gleaned from New Zealand newspapers concerning the man and his personal history. In one memorial, however, I couldn't help but notice a treatment similar to what I had found for our Johanna Falvey in Indiana at the time of her passing: that he was "born near Killarney, County Kerry, Ireland."

There was much to learn about the life of this Humphrey O'Leary from this August 6, 1934, article in the Wairarapa Daily Times. Although the date of arrival in New Zealand given in the newspaper does not agree with the passenger record we've already examined, the Times article also mentioned the age at which Humphrey arrived in New Zealand. Whether we rely on the data provided in the newspaper or that from the passenger record, either combination of dates leads us back to an approximate birth year of 1853.

Now that we have a likely birth date, what are the chances that we can find a baptismal record for this particular Humphrey O'Leary? With a surname like O'Leary, I figured the chance would be slim, indeed, but that didn't stop me from looking.

Just in case everyone had that year of birth miscalculated, I searched with a two year range on either side of the 1853 date extrapolated from Humphrey O'Leary's date of death. Though the baptismal date for one finding—December 9 of 1854—was a bit later than I felt prudent in accepting, it was still within a reasonable range. That digitized record of the actual baptismal entry showed a "Humphreus," son of "Dionysii Leary" and Ann Sullivan—yes, another Sullivan—with sponsors listed as John and Julianna Leary. An encouraging detail was that the baptism occurred in a location in which I've found other family records: Molahiffe.

While not wishing to discard this entry prematurely, I also wanted to see what other records might be available. Although not a copy of the actual parish record, there was a transcription for a baptismal record for another son named Humphrey O'Leary. The entry was copied from the parish record for Tralee, and gave the residence for the family as Cahirleheen (likely a misspelling of Caherleheen, townlands which span two civil districts in County Kerry).

This transcription extrapolated a date of birth—"based on other date information"—as 22 September 1853. The parents were listed as John O'Leary and Margaret "Leary," leaving questions as to whether that was her maiden name or a poorly copied married name. Still, the listing of baptismal sponsors caught my eye. The godparents were listed as Elizabeth Hurly and James Barry.

With the surname Barry, we stumble upon our first sign of what may become yet another difficulty we'll confront with researching the families related to our Falvey line. From Humphrey O'Leary's own obituary, we can see that one of his daughters happened to marry a man by that same surname, Barry. Could that be coincidence? Or did that Barry also arrive in New Zealand from County Kerry, Ireland? It was not unusual for settlers in the early years of colonization in North America to marry cousins; perhaps that was not an unlikely scenario for those emigrants from the British Isles, headed in the opposite direction to the shores of New Zealand. 

Far More Than Just a Toe-hold

 

Newspapers may not always "tell all"—and sometimes can be counted on to get the story wrong—but they often can be relied upon to guide us in our pursuit of family history.

Yesterday, I took the advice given in a comment by reader Lois and tried finding Mary Falvey and her husband Humphrey O'Leary in New Zealand newspapers. Despite Mary being the actual relative connecting my husband with his Falvey DNA matches in New Zealand, I began instead by searching for Humphrey. My reason was simple: women in that era were expected to stay out of the public eye—and even if they were mentioned in newspapers, it was far more likely they would see their given name replaced by their husband's initials.

To ensure that I didn't follow the wrong Mrs. O'Leary, I first oriented myself to reports of the family constellation by searching for her husband's name. Thanks to yesterday's discovery of Humphrey's probate file, we already were advised of his date of death: August 5, 1934. What could be easier than searching the local newspapers around that date to find his obituary?

Sometimes, of course, obituaries are not available in online archives, or cannot be found in print at all. For all I know, speaking from my uninformed point of view as an American mounting the steep learning curve of familiarizing myself with research resources half a world away, perhaps the custom in New Zealand might be to not mention any family members' names at all.

As luck would have it, some of the first entries I found for Humphrey O'Leary following his death seemed to indicate such an unfortunate result. One article waxed on about the many qualities of the deceased, and shared some details about his personal history—but nary a word was offered about his bereaved family. Though we learned that through his many years of public service, he was considered "always a radical in his views" though one with "a heart so large," published eulogies such as the one appearing in the Wairarapa Daily Times just a few days after his death didn't tell the genealogists among us anything we wanted to know.

Fortunately, that August 8, 1934, entry was only one of many. There were entries brief and to the point—such as the blunt death notice printed the day after his passing—and, thankfully, flowery remembrances in an obituary which did not neglect to name at least his descendants.

While his widow remained nameless, we learn that the couple were parents of five sons and six daughters, including a Marist priest and a barrister who later was appointed as King's Counsel. These details will come in handy when we attempt to locate an obituary for the right Mrs. H. J. O'Leary after her own death a few years later.

True to form, though, the many newspaper reports at the passing of Humphrey O'Leary conflicted each other in some of the details researchers like you and I consider important—age, for instance. Depending on the publication, Humphrey was reported to be eighty, eighty two, or "in his eighty third year." Take your choice. And though his arrival in New Zealand was confirmed to be aboard The Ocean Mail, it was said to have arrived in Nelson in 1871—not the 1874 date we located in records—and his age at the time said to be eighteen, not the record's twenty one.

All that said, could a transcribed baptismal record back in County Kerry for a Humphrey O'Leary born about 22 September, 1853, be for the right Humphrey O'Leary? How hard it is to make these connections across oceans and continents.

One Rood, One Perch, and Nine Tenths of a Perch

 

I give, devise and bequeath to my son Michael Joseph O'Leary all that piece of land situate in Bunny Street Masterton containing One rood, One perch and Nine-tenths of a perch....

It is only in family history, I suppose, that we meet people in the most backwards of ways: from the end of life we move toward the beginning. Thus, for one potential Falvey relative who emigrated in the 1870s to New Zealand as a near-invisible female subject of the Dominion, it is through the very end of her husband's life that we gain our first glimpse of this branch of the family.

Mary Falvey, assumed ancestor of one of my husband's DNA matches, must have arrived in the South Island by 1875, for October 30 of that year was when she was married at the Catholic church in Blenheim. Though I have no documentation—yet!—for either of those events, my research collaborator on the New Zealand side of the Falvey family assures me that was the case.

Mary Falvey's intended apparently also hailed from her native County Kerry, back in Ireland—if, that is, I've located the right emigration record. Arriving in the Marlborough region August 17, 1874, on the Ocean Mail, there were actually two men with the same name as that of Mary Falvey's future husband.

One was twenty one year old Humphrey O'Leary, the blacksmith from County Kerry, and the other was nineteen year old Humphrey O'Leary. Not that their surname is making this search any easier for us, but at least the second Humphrey, despite coming from the same county in Ireland, was labeled a mere farm laborer.

Both Humphreys had arrived in Marlborough region as part of an "Assisted Emigration" program and, as can be seen from the record of their arrival, were listed as if they were two in the same party—perhaps relatives?

Finding any record of Mary and whichever Humphrey O'Leary ended up being her husband was challenging. Though there are ample online research opportunities for other regions of the world, not much is available currently to Americans wondering about their distant cousins in New Zealand. 

I did find, however, two possible records for the O'Leary family's oldest child, a daughter our Falvey DNA matches assure me was named Margaret. One was for a birth in Wanganui in the third quarter of 1876. The other followed right afterward, in the fourth quarter of the same year, but was reported in Wairau. Of course, neither transcribed record included the names of parents, and neither location was quite in the region of either Falvey family's later residence. For all I know, neither of these two documents could be the one representing our collateral Falvey line.

So much for my attempt to trace Mary Falvey's life forward through history. Fortunately, there was more to be said about the family of Mary Falvey and Humphrey O'Leary, if we started our search from the end of his life. There, following Humphrey John O'Leary's death on August 5, 1934, his last will was filed in the Wellington Judicial District. 

First encouraging note was to see that the man was clearly labeled as a blacksmith, allowing us to determine which of the two arrivals from County Kerry was the one destined to marry Mary Falvey—who, incidentally, was provided for in her husband's will.

Then, too, the listing of family members, though limited, allows us to connect other names to this family tree of Falvey descendants. According to Humphrey O'Leary's will, there were two other relatives beside his wife whom he wished to name. One, of course, was his son to whom he gave his property, Michael Joseph O'Leary. Though Humphrey and Mary had several children (according to others researching this particular line), only one other name was recorded in Humphrey O'Leary's will: that of his grandson, Edward Humphrey Peters.

With that last record of the husband of our Falvey DNA match's ancestor, we now have a toe-hold to enable us to walk the line of the right Humphrey O'Leary and, by extension, the descendants of a collateral Falvey line which is somehow connected to Falvey descendants in America, as well.

 

Above: Excerpt from the Assisted Emigration Passenger List to Marlborough, New Zealand, dated 17 August 1874, showing the entries for two single men named Humphrey O'Leary; image courtesy FamilySearch.org.   

Seeing the Air

 

Yesterday was one of those unfortunate days we've lived through lately, here in northern California, in which we could actually see the air we were breathing. The smoke from fires near and far was, once again, descending upon us, swirling around us, and reminding us of components we wouldn't normally expect to include with our every breath.

Breathing that kind of air is not a habit I'd advise for anyone, yet it did prompt me to think about other invisible materials which, not normally seen yet once rendered visible can, instead, help our situation. If there is anything invisible in the world of genealogy, it would be those untraceable links from one mystery generation to another, hidden behind those insurmountable research brick walls that have us struggling. Oh, to be able to actually visualize those invisible links!

Surprise! We can see those invisible threads tying our ancestors' generations together. At least for a few generations, the tool which renders those invisible connections visible is the process which shows us the patterns laid down in the very genes in our own bodies. Those genetic patterns, when compared to other people's genetic signatures, can lead us to people who "match" a portion of our own DNA records.

When it comes to my convoluted research attempts to find the origin of my husband's second great-grandparents, John Kelly and Johanna Falvey, I have certainly put in my fair share of time twisting and turning in the face of a wide variety of records—all to no avail. Of course, from their records left after their immigrant years in Fort Wayne, Indiana, I already know John and Johanna were born in Ireland. Furthermore, chatty resources like newspaper reports of their death lead me to believe they both originated in County Kerry. But where, specifically? And who were their parents?

Enter the key to unlock the code so I can actually see the invisible "air" of their genetic record. I have the DNA test results for my husband and his two sisters. Though those test kits at five DNA companies plus GEDmatch.com haven't garnered a great number of matches with Falvey kin—searching for Kelly matches would not be a productive foray just yet—there are a few matches to work with. Now is the time to re-evaluate just whom to pursue on this next attempt at finding the answers I seek.

Starting with Ancestry DNA, I limited my search to those matches who also have the surname Falvey somewhere in their family tree. Of those results, there were only three customers who placed high enough to be listed as possible fourth cousins—nothing closer. 

Of those three matches, one shared thirty five centiMorgans with my husband, all in one lone segment. Examining her tree, I see one encouraging detail: this Falvey ancestor ended up traveling from Ireland to New Zealand—a good sign, as we already have another Falvey match from a different testing company with those specifics. This line very likely will align with that other New Zealand match, an answer I'm already off and running to pursue.

The second of these three closest matches is someone who is far closer in relationship to my husband. An actual descendant of Johanna Falvey's own children, this match already has a place in my husband's family tree, confirmed as a third cousin, once removed. Their shared thirty four centiMorgans, though only one count less than that shared with the first match, is actually distributed over three separate segments. Because of the already-known relationship, pursuing this match will likely not reveal any information I don't already know. The only way it could help with my research problem now is if this person is willing to collaborate with me and share the details she has on any of her DNA Falvey matches to whom she might be connected through genetic material my husband or his sisters did not inherit from those ancestors.

The third of the three closest matches is someone who shares just a little less genetic material: twenty nine centiMorgans. Like the first match, this amount is shared in only one segment, likely pointing to a specific inheritance from someone coming at least a generation prior to our Johanna Falvey. This information may prove valuable, so my next task will be to examine this match's family tree and pull up all associated documentation related to that Falvey line. You can be sure I will be examining each of the digitized documents for any details omitted in the indexing process, as well as seeking out further records to round out the narrative.

Thus, our next task will be to meet Catherine Falvey, presumably the daughter of immigrants from County Kerry known as Daniel Falvey and Mary O'Leary. We'll take a look at whether the documentation on this family will reveal anything new about the extended Falvey family. Hopefully, it will lead us back to the right townland location in County Kerry.

But first, we need to start from step one: the same step we take when we begin our own tree. Just as we would start with ourselves on our own family history project, we'll begin this new exploration with a Falvey descendant in a much closer time and place than pre-Famine Ireland.

Our first visit in this research trial will be to travel to a place not far from the Toledo home of all those Sullivans we've been agonizing over: we'll start our journey in Detroit, Michigan.