Remembering That Genealogical Friend: Google

Whenever my college-aged daughter is advising her classmates on study problems, she likes to remind them to consult "Doctor Google." Even though I'm no longer in a degree program at a university, I like to remind myself of her advice. You see, Doctor Google is not only the college student's guide. Doctor Google has wonderful suggestions for genealogical research as well.

Take my quandary, mentioned the other day, about the missing Margaret Tully: did she die young? Or did she marry and disappear from view?

Now, we all know that not everything genealogical has magically migrated to the oft-touted online services marketed to people like us. I'm reminded of the poster created for the California Genealogical Society, which says exactly that:

Genealogy Research: Internet is just the tip of the iceberg; most research is done in libraries, archives, courthouses.

Since I don't have a trip to Paris, Ontario, coming up in the near future, though, I'll have to see what can be found online in the meantime.

My first inclination, when encountering a brick wall impeding my research progress, is to look at the finding aids available online. Besides searching the catalog at Ancestry.com, that means reading through recommended wikis at FamilySearch.org.

Over the past few days, that's exactly what I did. Since I knew Margaret was still in her family's home for the 1861 Canadian census, that became my starting point for testing one of those two hypotheses: that she got married.

Granted, there are many records out there, in all that vast volume of not-yet-indexed resources on FamilySearch.org. Just finding one does not mean I have reached the end of my trail. The next step means taking a close look at just what is included in any possible collection on their website.

For instance, the first stop on my wiki tour was an entry called, "Canada Marriages (FamilySearch Historical Records)." That sounds like a promising file, doesn't it? Looking over the entry on the wiki, it turns out the answer is a resounding, "No." Not, at least, for me; I'm seeking marriage records for the province of Ontario, for which an asterisk marks the matrix, advising me that I need to look for the entries in an entirely different collection. (It would have been nice if the page had included hyperlinks to the specific collections referenced in that note.)

Not to worry. Later in that wiki, under "Related Websites," a link is provided to familiar territory: The Olive Tree Genealogy's page on "Canada Births, Deaths, Marriages Exchange." This address provides a place where researchers can voluntarily share information on births, baptisms, deaths or marriages in the stated provinces in Canada.

I selected Ontario for my search at Olive Tree, chose the entry for marriages, and clicked on the letter for Margaret's surname, which brought me to the page of listings.

Right away, I saw two reasons why this would not be the answer for my search. First, it contained information about certificates registered in Canada. That meant my Margaret's theoretical date of marriage would likely fall before that date at which registrations were required. Indeed, searching for earliest dates on the listing, I couldn't find anything dated earlier than 1868. Second, because this was a volunteer-driven project, it meant there would only be resources placed there by other researchers also pursuing the same surnames. Judging by past experience of the number of people researching the same lines as mine, I had that feeling mine likely would not be among them. Sure enough, it wasn't.

Back to the FamilySearch wikis, I kept clicking through hyperlinks and searching until I found more possibilities. One was a wiki entitled, "Ontario Marriages (FamilySearch Historical Records)." Unlike its similarly-entitled counterpart, this page lacked the detail. My first caution came with the introductory line, "This index is not complete for any particular place or region."

Oh oh.

Continuing my click-through extravaganza, I found another wiki for "Ontario Marriages, 1869-1927." Again, that date: too late. Still, I kept reading, and found a link to another wiki, "Ontario, Roman Catholic Church Records." Now I was getting closer, right?

Not quite. The beauty of looking over these wikis before launching into something like a browse-only collection at FamilySearch is to determine whether the record of interest would even be included in the collection. This wiki listed the dioceses included. Mine was not among them.

The wiki once again warned, "Civil registration began in Ontario in 1869 but was not fully implemented until 1930."

Until 1930?!

I consider myself warned. Dejected, I didn't stop there, though. I decided to brief myself on the basics of acquiring vital records in Ontario, Canada, with one more stop on my wiki tour, "Ontario Vital Records." There, under the heading for "Marriage Records," I spotted this one hopeful observation:

From 1858 to 1869, the province required the counties to keep marriage registers. Clergymen of all faiths were supposed to record information from their parish registers in county marriage books.

Could it be possible that I might be able to find an answer to my Tully marriage hypothesis, after all?

It seemed I had reached the end of the line on the informative wikis on this topic at FamilySearch. But I hardly had all the direction I needed to complete my quest. That's where Doctor Google came in. I had to have somewhere else to search for this generic genealogy question. And why not? May I remind you of all the years of volunteer entries by genealogy enthusiasts, tucking away their research findings in websites as obscure as GeoCities, RootsWeb, GenForum, GenWeb and other now virtually discarded previous genealogy playgrounds. There has to be some way to tiptoe around this digital universe. And Google is just the way to do that!

I played around with a few search terms and ran across this old site hosted by RootsWeb: "Ontario Marriage Registrations, 1800-1927." While the entries are spotty, date-wise, it does seem to include some entries from Brant County, the county jurisdiction where the Tully family settled. Just in case, I also took a look at the marriages post-1869 registration date.

Sadly, no matter where I looked on the pages of this unexpected gift of a website, I couldn't find any possible Tully marriages. But that was just fine. Even though the results upon arrival are disappointing, the journey to get there taught me one thing: don't forget to Google your question—even if it is a genealogical research question. Google does genealogy, too.

Nicknames and Enumerators

One of those areas designed to drive a genealogist to distraction is the realm of pet names. Nicknames have likely been around as long as have the names they were crafted to replace. Consider the longest name in one record of antiquity, the Bible: Mahershalalhashbaz. What do you suppose his buddies called him?

Granted, most nicknames are derived from more manageable proper names. But even then, there is wiggle room. Most people, for instance, can readily tell you the nickname for the inconveniently three-syllable-long woman’s name Margaret would be Maggie.

Or is it Marge? What about Meg? Or Peggy?

See? There are multiple possibilities.

When it comes to the reverse process—determining an unknown given name, based on the nickname we do know—there likewise is such a challenge.

Consider Mayme, the possible nickname of the wife of my grandmother’s brother, Michael Lasko. In searching for listings of traditional substitutionary names, I found a number of resources. All confirmed what readers here had mentioned in the comments yesterday: Mayme is likely a nickname for the given name, Mary. But it could also be a nickname for Margaret, according to the FamilySearch.org wiki, “Traditional Nicknames in Old Documents.” (If you’re curious, here’s their Nickname to Formal Name chart here. And, for those wishing to reverse the process, the US GenWeb Project page, Common Nicknames, also comes in handy.)

Let’s go ahead and test out that hypothesis. What can be found for a Michael and Mary Lasko in either Brooklyn or Queens in New York City?

I had actually started on this pursuit years ago, when I hadn’t yet found enough material to substantiate the possibility. I had poked around on the Italian Genealogical Group website (remember, it's not just for Italians) to find any New York City grooms by the name, Michael Lasko.

There was one: a man whose Brooklyn marriage in April, 1909, was to a bride named Mary Hecker. The only other possibility in that database during that time frame was for a Max Lasko who married in 1917. There were no results for a Michael Laskowski.

Granted, the database was limited. Besides the time frames, there was also the parameter of city boroughs—some had records available for a greater time span than others. For instance, I still can’t find my own grandmother’s marriage record—neither at this website nor in the old-fashioned way, cranking through microfilms. I suspect the city wasn’t too efficient at keeping records of such activities back then.

What if our Miczislaus Laskowski was really this Michael Lasko? Did he marry Mary Hecker on April 14, 1909? What else can we find on this couple?

As has already been mentioned—thanks to a link provided by Intense Guy—there was a Michael and Mary Lasko, living in Brooklyn at the time of the 1920 census. Likewise—although indexed under the spelling “Laska”—for the 1930 census. And again, back to the usual spelling, for the 1940 census.

This same Michael Lasko, on the same Bleecker Street in Brooklyn where he resided at the time of the 1920 census, also completed his Registration Card during the first World War—although his status as an alien born in “Germany” likely didn’t go over too well at the time, despite his attempt at tempering the condition by qualifying himself as a “declared” alien. (Nor have I been able to locate any such Declaration paperwork online, in following up on that assertion.)

Still, these few documents do provide some clues to encourage us. Michael’s Registration Card, for one thing, indicated the name of his wife to be Mary. The card also provided his occupation—a cooper—which happens to be the same occupation of his older brother, John Laskowski.

Best of all—just as had happened when the census enumerator had stopped at Michael’s father’s household in Brooklyn that year—for “place of birth” was indicated not the country, but the region where Michael was born. And, like Antoni Laskowski before him, Michael was apparently also born in the invaded region of Poland the Germans called Posen.

In other words, Michael was born in Poznań.

I’d say we’ve found the right family.

Above: Excerpt from the 1920 United States Census, New York City borough of Brooklyn, on Bleecker Street; courtesy Ancestry.com.  

Revolutionary Resources

As I’ve been pushing my way back through the American history timeline, I’ve finally reached the point in my ancestor quest in which I’m running into family members who lived during the time of the Revolutionary War.

Some of those family members actually participated in the military aspects of that Revolution. You know what that means: eligibility for the lineage society known as Daughters of the American Revolution.

Of course, I’m already working on putting together my application on behalf of my patriot ancestor, my fifth great grandfather Zachariah Taliaferro of Virginia. With the arrival of a couple more slips of documentary evidence, it will soon be all over but the shouting.

In the meantime, as I take a look around at all the siblings of each generation’s direct line, I’m noticing several others in the Taliaferro and associated families who merit such recognition, as well. And you know how I am keen on noticing the names populating my family tree—I still have a mystery cousin to tie in to this ancestral line. So I’ve been taking my time, ambling through all the lines.

A while back, I had questioned why it seemed so many of my ancestors from this line had moved from Virginia, through South Carolina, to Georgia. Now that I’m studying that time period in my family’s history, I’m seeing the answer to my own question unfold with every turn of the page of old military rosters.

Remember Benjamin Taliaferro—Zack’s son who stole away his younger brother’s intended? One could have presumed that Ben’s move to Georgia might have been a judicious choice to put space between feuding brothers. According to land records, however, that may have only been a secondary aspect—Benjamin Taliaferro did quite well for himself in the land grants that followed service in the Continental Army. This I was able to find, thanks to the digitized version of the 1941 Roster of Revolutionary Soldiers in Georgia at Ancestry.com.

While I do have subscriptions to both Ancestry.com and Fold3.com—the logical places to go for military records on our ancestors—I’ve found there are all sorts of other online resources for inquiries about our military ancestors from the American Revolution.

Since I’ve been focusing on Georgia land grants in particular, it helped to see that some old publications are digitized and freely accessible at Internet Archive. One, for instance, is Georgia’s Roster of the Revolution, a 1920 compilation of lists of soldiers, sailors, officers and associated parties either enlisting in Georgia or settling in the state after serving in the war.

Remembering that some of my Taliaferro people lived in Virginia at the outbreak of the war, it was helpful to note that Internet Archive also has List of the Revolutionary Soldiers of Virginia, a 1913 publication, as well.

While Ancestry.com has aggregated a set of data collections from the National Archives, which it dubs “U.S. Revolutionary War Rolls, 1775-1783,” there are other places to look for resource lists as well. FamilySearch.org has a wiki, “Revolutionary War Service Records,” which provides several suggestions on places to look for books and records on this topic. Cyndi’s List has compiled a page of over one hundred links—some free, some subscription-based—to online sites containing Revolutionary War data of genealogical significance.

Of course, the obvious other resource is the national website of the Daughters of the American Revolution, which includes the Genealogical Research System, where you can search for specific ancestors’ names.

It’s been a real treat to see these ancestors named in publications of soldiers from the American Revolution. In some cases, the discovery comes with the bonus of records of children included in the family—a further help to confirm my records are correct. Hopefully, some of those additional mentions will help me straighten out some tangled branches or possibly inaccurate assumptions I’ve run across on my way backwards in time. There are still some discrepancies to be tackled as I do my due diligence to get this genealogical record right.

RSVP For a Year With No Regrets

After all the rounds of holiday parties this past month, you’ve no doubt received some invitations asking for the favor of that small gesture no American can easily pronounce—répondez s'il vous plaît—yet handily resorts to abbreviating for “simplicity.”

Yes, that’s right (I knew my readers were a perceptive bunch): R.S.V.P.

Perhaps you received some invitations from hand-wringing hostesses wishing to nudge the situation even closer to the stress-free response zone for her guests—the “R.S.V.P., regrets only.”

While your holiday party season is undoubtedly now over, I want to borrow from that festive season and lift that “Regrets Only” sentiment for today’s post. For the moment, I wish to address that onerous task of owning up to my misapplied sense of civic duty in formulating what I knew better than to do: compose my own set of New Year’s Resolutions way back at that bright, shiny beginning of 2012.

Here, then, are my regrets.

For the sake of the traditional year-end navel-gazing fest, I will own up to that sense of civic duty once again, in reviewing the year-old list. While there may be no task master more demanding than one’s own self, I find that the reverse is sometimes also true: we tend to allow ourselves more liberties than we would those we hire to complete the same tasks. In both these aspects, I plead guilty…but then I get to wondering: who set me to this task in the first place? Was it a sense of obligation that led me to follow suit? I’ll opt for a more thoroughly thought-out plan for the upcoming year!

I say “navel-gazing,” by the way, from that sheer feeling—sorry to be so bluntly truthful here—of envisioning people patting themselves on the back as they recite their completed list of the prior year’s resolutions. I’m all for self-improvement—but not as a thinly-veiled excuse for self-adulation. What we accomplish would better be done for the benefit of others than the chance to once again pat ourselves on the back.

Okay, ahem, rant over. Here’s my list, now complete with regrets:

Resolution Number One: Giving Back

As you may recall from my post one year ago, I truly wanted to get involved in a number of genealogically-minded projects that would benefit the larger research community. After all, there are so many opportunities for us to participate in projects already being spearheaded by some respected, established genealogy organizations—this past year’s amazing accomplishment of indexing the 1940 census being one example. When we all put our shoulders to the wheel, we may be off to a rough start, but the collective effort, over time, produces beneficial results.

I did manage to participate, as planned, in some indexing projects through FamilySearch.org. To warm up to the process, I tried whatever projects FamilySearch suggested, just so I could get the hang of the process. Then I turned my attention to one project that would ultimately benefit my own research areas: Catholic Church records in Chicago. What a bear! It was tough going, but I did what I could. Shifting from that project to one our local Genealogical Society was co-sponsoring turned out to be a snap, and I saw that project through to the end.

My game plan here was to get those indexing skills up to snuff by the time the 1940 census was released—but by that time, so many other needs were clamoring for my attention that my good intentions never saw fruition. I may have indexed a page or two of the census, but hardly as much as I wished to do—and that was even after setting weekly goals for myself to insure participation.

And those Indiana county marriage records I wanted to help enter? Well, let’s just say maybe that can be a project for another year. Same goes for any other FamilySearch projects.

Did I burn out by trying to do too much too fast? Perhaps. I know now to heed the advice for goal-setting I mentioned yesterday: Start Slow, Finish Fast.

Resolution Number Two: Researching Historically Significant Ancestors

I’ve written, a couple times, about my McClellan line from Florida. One of my direct ancestors played a significant role in the early years of that state. Among other things, this ancestor was one of the signers of Florida’s first state constitution. While I already had learned this from family stories, during the earliest stages of writing A Family Tapestry, I discovered that this ancestor, George Edmund McClellan, actually had an entry in Wikipedia. The entry was what the organization calls a “stub”—basically the beginning of an article that has yet to be written—and was just sitting there in cyberspace, begging to be completed.

Doing that was one of the things I hoped I’d accomplish in 2012.

I didn’t.

There are some reasons for that failure. Of course, first of all, an effort like that requires an immense amount of research. Some of the material I’d need to review might have been accessed online. But I think I won’t be able to do the task justice until I can actually journey to the state and thumb through the repository storing the legislative data which may include his work. Then, well, it was just an intimidating thought: to pull together material that has never before been assembled for this specific focus and put it out there as a completed project. The fact-check part of the back of my brain just recoiled at taking such a project too lightly.

But you know, if I don’t do it, apparently no one else will be doing it, either. So I may as well pursue this idea—if nothing else, in the hopes that it will be of benefit to someone in the future.

Serendipitously, just the other day when I was looking something up on Wikipedia, a header popped up asking people to consider volunteering to be new contributors to that organization. Of course, even though I was eager to pursue that idea, I was under time pressure at the time and didn’t reach for that bright, shiny digital bauble. Now that I try to find that same article and video on Wikipedia, of course—you knew that, didn’t you?—it is no longer there. After some searching, I did find the video here…but no further appeal with handy links to help people get started in this new role of Wikipedia Contributor.

Timing. Ya just gotta have it at the right time.

Resolution Number Three: Finish the Chicago Story

What? A resolution I actually completed? Wait! Surely there’s something missing to this story!

I did…I actually did complete the series on the Tully and Stevens family. All the letters have been transcribed, scanned, posted on A Family Tapestry. The only task left there is to clean up the mess—something I will surely finish this year with some planned posts about archival-quality storage.

Oh, I do have some little wisps of material from the Tully collection that I’ve yet to post. Those, however, are specific time-linked items that I’ve already planned to use for an upcoming Mother’s Day post, and for other holiday posts.

Also included in that yet-to-be-published pile are some letters and photos from distant relatives who are still living. In respect of their privacy, I’ve held off on publishing any of that material.

While I still have much to do before I can break through that proverbial brick wall and land squarely in the Tully family’s land of origin in Ireland, this resolution marks my sole chance to stand up and cheer for getting to check this one off the list.

Resolution Number Four: Still Need to Get Writing

Did I say I wanted to write a book?!?! Whatever was I thinking?!

Well, I didn’t exactly say that.

I whispered it.

But I still want to.

It’s just that I’m not sure it will take the shape of the story that so needs to be written: the story of Frank’s life and how it has impacted the lives of his children, how that legacy has been turned back around, and how it now makes such a difference.

That, however, is someone else’s story. And, if you want to get technical, all I promised in that last resolution for 2012 was to organize the material so it could be used as the basis for a book.

So I did achieve that resolution. As for the book? Well…that will need to be someone else’s resolution.

And you know how I feel about resolutions.

Above left: François Boucher, Le Dejeuner, oil on canvas, 1739; courtesy Wikipedia; in the public domain.

With a Little Help From My Friends

After explaining my Tully puzzle over family members all seeming to bear the same given names, I got a little research help from a reader.

The issue was how to pursue the descendants of one Mary Tully—if there were any.

It turns out there are.

Mary Hogan Tully’s passing was commemorated by the saving of one memento from her funeral by my husband’s grandmother Agnes Tully Stevens. From that, I launched into the sad rehearsal of her family members’ difficulties in life. While perusing our family histories is an apt reminder of how difficult times past could have been for our ancestors—even in “modern” America—it seems like Mary Hogan Tully’s family fared a little worse than some.

And yet, though some of her descendants disappeared into documentation’s deep voids, and others saw their descendants fulfilled by career rather than family, in the midst of sickness and turmoil, it appears that one Tully child emerged to lead a long and fruitful life.

It was Iggy—blogger Intense Guy—who found the link for me. True to his name, he tenaciously wrestles data until it cries “uncle”—and this time, he found an obituary for Mary Hogan Tully’s grandchild, Ruth M. Tully Franzen Werner. Though she was born in Chicago in 1913, and though she lived in a household and neighborhood ridden with tuberculosis, she herself made it to ninety three years of age.

Since her obituary is fairly recent and most likely contains names of descendants still living, in respect of their privacy, I’ll not be sharing a copy of that obituary. However, the gift of that resource has provided me with a link to some living distant cousins, once again courtesy of Iggy.

Family history research, done as a team effort, makes a lot of sense—if you can assemble a team of researchers with like genealogical goals. I’ve already met a few distant relatives with whom I share similar research goals, and from time to time, we are sure to sharpen each other’s iron. I’ve also benefited from online forum members who have shared from their resources.

I’ve particularly been eyeing the connection capabilities of Ancestry.com and other online communities that are seeking to facilitate this type of research connection. Through Ancestry, I recently ran across another researcher who turns out to be a cousin of a cousin. Though this person is what my family likes to term an “outlaw,” I’m still glad to pass along the word to the other side of my family—serving somewhat as a midwife in birthing new family connections. Every little connection helps bring each of us closer to our own research goals. It also sharpens us as we share tips, resources and ideas on how to better tackle our brick walls and black sheep relatives. And those of us fortunate enough to be recipients of family keepsakes—especially photographs—can use digital capabilities to share copies with the multiplied number of descendants that come with each passing generation.

Many people have commented on how friendly genealogists are—and how keen they are to talk shop with anyone willing to listen. When we tap into that friendly tendency to help each other along with our resource—whether through official means like genealogical societies or through the more recent digital frontiers of online forums, wikis, or Facebook groups—we have the potential to accelerate our research results.