Procrastinators and Planning

It's high time for all genealogical-conference goers headed to Jamboree to stop procrastinating and complete their registration before the early bird deadline flies by.

Yes, that means me, the guilty procrastinator extraordinaire. I have until April 14—don't blink; you'll miss it—to decide what to do about my registration.

I know, I know: the conference isn't happening until May 31 through June 2. But that's not what gets you your ticket into the front door. Registration is. And the best price for that can only be gained through an early-bird window that will shut tight April 14. Leaving me stymied by indecision.

Not that I don't plan on going; totally the opposite. The problem is: there are even more offerings. But in less time.

This year, the Southern California Genealogical Society responded to feedback about holding their event through Sunday. So this time—their forty ninth year—they decided to break with tradition and eliminate their Sunday offerings.

No problem for me with that change. We usually duck out early anyhow, since we face a nearly eight hour drive home. Now we can do it on Sunday at a more leisurely pace and get home a bit earlier in the evening.

But the other change...now that's the one causing me problems. You see, Jamboree for many of us traditional attendees was not one event, but two. Coupled with the usual conference was a pre-session known as DNA Day. Thankfully, that event is not going away, which I'm relieved to learn. But what is changing is that the conference is adding yet another special focus: a one day writers' conference.

On the same day. Which one to choose? (Can't I have both?)

Faced with the dilemma of wanting to attend some of the DNA sessions, but some of the writers' ones, too, I'm stalled with the indecision.

An added problem, which I'm sure many repeat attendees have realized, is that conferences tend to focus on the many topics which can satisfy the learning requirements of beginners. That is probably why I opt for attending weeklong genealogical institutes, where a learner can feast on a specialty topic in depth, rather than cherry pick from a smorgasbord of hour-long appetizers.

To counterbalance that attendee's dilemma, to their credit, the Jamboree team offers their own version of in-depth learning with half-day seminars. If, for instance, my procrastination hasn't gotten the best of me and kept me from signing up before the class becomes full, I hope to register for Blaine Bettinger's Visual Phasing workshop. I've read his five-part tutorial on his website, but still feel like I want to pelt him with questions; this will be the perfect opportunity.

All that comes, of course, with cutting out all the indecision and registering. Before April 14.

If you're like me—loving the learning environment of a successful conference like Jamboree—hopefully, you'll find your way to the Jamboree registration page before April 14 as well. And then we can look each other up, once we get to southern California for the May 31 through June 2 event.

Finding Ophelia

Remember back last month, when I was wondering how to find Thirza—that woman whose abandoned family photographs I found in a northern California antique shop—and opted for searching in census records for her name plus parents, instead of looking for the younger siblings with the more common given names?

Well, I should have looked for Nellie and Mabel Browne, too—because they were the ones who held the key to figuring out what happened to Thirza's parents.

Amend that: I still don't know. Not really. Not the whole story. But I did find some convincing records, based on Nellie and Mabel being in the same household as someone named Ophelia. Only she wasn't still called Ophelia Browne. She had gotten married again.

It was the timeline in Thirza's own obituary, years later, which told me I might have the right family. After all, according to Thirza's obituary, she had moved to Sargents, Colorado, in 1892—"with her parents," the obituary had stated. And there, eight years later in the 1900 census, was a family with a Nellie and a Mabel "Brown" listed.

Only thing was, they were labeled as step-daughters to the head of the household, someone named Henry C. Allen. It would be logical to assume, then, that Henry's wife, Ophelia Allen, would be the mother of those two teenagers.

If Ophelia was the former wife of Thomas Browne, Thirza's father, then what happened to Thomas? The 1900 census said Henry and Ophelia were married for seven years, giving us an approximate year of 1893 as the date of their wedding. As it turns out, there was a marriage performed by a judge in Cañon City, the county seat of Fremont County, Colorado, on January 18, 1893. The two parties, aggravatingly, were listed simply as H. C. Allen and O. E. Brown, but their respective ages of fifty four and thirty seven seem to line up with the ages in the census seven years later.

Thanks to my brilliant deductive powers, that leads me to believe something must have happened to Thomas Browne during the year of 1892. As for proving that assertion, I have nothing yet to go by: no record that I can find—at least online—of his death or burial. All I have is the presumption that, since his wife remarried, she had been left a widow. Back in that time period, such logic could sometimes be held up—though not always.

As for Ophelia Ellen, formerly Browne, now Allen, there was a better "paper" trail. With a headstone boldly proclaiming her name as Ophelia Ellen Allen, Thirza's mother was buried, back home in Greeley, Colorado, in June, 1908. 

Constructing Thirza's Timeline

Granted, not every obituary contains as much detail as the one we read yesterday for Thirza Browne Cole, the woman whose photographs I found abandoned in a northern California antique store. Someone must have provided all that information in Thirza's obituary; the question is: who? By the time of Thirza's death in 1979, she had turned 101. Obviously, she outlasted her parents, but not only that: she long outlived her siblings, as well. In addition, she had already lost her only daughter through a tragic event in the 1920s. Who was still around to tell Thirza's story—especially with that type of detail?

The story, if it is correct, does help fill in some gaps in Thirza's history. To help place these events in date order, let's reconstruct her life's timeline. Here's what we now know about Thirza:

• She was born in Greeley, Colorado, on 27 June, 1877.
• In 1892, she moved to Sargents, Colorado, with her parents, Thomas and Ophelia Browne.
• At an unknown date soon after, she moved to Cripple Creek, Colorado.
• Soon after that, she attended the Red Cross hospital school in Salida, Colorado.
• On 28 September, 1895, she married William E. Cole in Denver, Colorado.
• In March of 1897, Will and Thirza's daughter Pauline was born in Colorado.
• By the time of the 1900 census, the Coles were back in Teller County, location of Cripple Creek.
• In 1915, she "first came to Lodi" California.
• According to the 1920 census, she was living in her son-in-law's household in Fresno, California.
• Around 1921, Thirza and her sister Nellie Yates purchased the Mason Hospital in Lodi, California, presumably after her son-in-law, Ralph Lee, passed away in June.

From that point on, Thirza remained in Lodi. That's the easy part to find, since she was listed clearly in the 1930 and 1940 census, as well as city directories.

What I still have questions about are the whereabouts of her family members. As much as her sister Nellie was mentioned as her business partner in buying the hospital, the woman remained in Colorado, as far as I can tell, through at least the 1940 census. And then, there's that small question about whatever happened to their sister Mable. And that other sibling named Adelbert.

More than that, though, is the question of what became of their parents. Thomas Browne seemed to have dropped out of the picture early. And his wife? Named Ellen in one record (the 1880 census), she is called Ophelia in her daughter Thirza's obituary. Is one of those two names her middle name? Or are we talking about two different women?

This is not simply an academic question. There is another reason why I want to know what became of the Brownes. You see, there is a matter of one more photograph. And the name on the back involves the surname Browne. I'm hoping the details from Thirza's own obituary will help lead me to her parents' whereabouts when they had their own obituaries drawn up.

Learning More About Thirza

Among genealogical researchers, a well-written obituary, once found, may be considered a blessing. Not only does the article contain the essentials of the deceased's parents' and siblings' names, but it includes highlights of the person's own life.

While Thirza Cole's obituary didn't appear on the front page of the Lodi News-Sentinel, as had her husband's back in 1947, it certainly bested his in length and detail. Since our primary interest in the Cole family centers on Thirza herself, that's a good thing; we've got quite a bit more to learn about this woman whose photo collection ended up in my possession by default.

Because of the length of Thirza's obituary—which ran in the Sentinel on Monday, January 29, 1979, buried on page seventeen—I'll save most of my commentary on this obituary for tomorrow's post, with the exception, of course, of noting that yes, she did live to be 101 years of age.

 Thirza M. Cole

     Thirza M. Cole, 101, of 207 Pleasant Ave., died Saturday morning in a local hospital following an extended illness. A native of Greeley, Colo., she was the daughter of the late Thomas and Ophelia Browne who were pioneers of that area.

     At age 15, she and her parents moved to Sargent, Colo., and then to Cripple Creek and then to Salida, Colo. She graduated from the Red Cross hospital school in Salida and later became the superintendent for several years.

     In 1915 she came to Lodi and six years later, she and her sister, the late Nellie B. Yates, purchased the Mason Hospital in Lodi and operated it for a number of years.

     She was the wife of the late W. C. [sic] Cole and mother of the late Pauline B. Lee.

     She was a member of the First Congregational Church of Lodi and a charter member of the Lodi Business and Professional Club of Lodi. She was an honorary member of the Lodi Womens Club and Circle Seven of the First Congregational Church.

     She is survived by her daughter, June Buck of Lodi, and two grandchildren.

     Services will be held at 2 p.m. Tuesday in the Gierhart & Wells Funeral Home with the Rev. Paul Donovan and the Rev. Vernon V. Robertson officiating. Private committal will be in the Lodi Cemetery.

     Friends may donate in her memory to the First Congregational Church, Grace Presbyterian Church or to their favorite charity.

The Micro-Biography of an Obituary

An indispensable tool of the genealogist's trade is the obituary—as long as it is, hopefully, the micro-biography we expect it to be. There, we learn about a person's occupations, interests and family. It is in that obituary that we gain clues perhaps not found anywhere else in our family history pursuit.

As far as my search for the story of the woman whose photograph collection I've stumbled upon, we've yet to touch on that research tool. So far, thanks to clues I've found on those hundred-year-old photographs from a Jackson, California, antique shop, I've learned more about their owner's friends and neighbors than I have about the person who owned those photos, herself. It's about time we take a moment to learn more about Thirza Browne Cole and her husband, William.

Granted, we did stumble upon Thirza's childhood home in Greeley, Colorado, thanks to the inclusion of her name in the Browne household in the 1880 census. We also discovered the name of her siblings: Adelbert, Nellie and Mable. We managed to learn that the picture of baby Louise was actually a photo of Thirza's niece. But other than that, all we know is that Thirza was someone who grew up in Colorado, married, and eventually moved to northern California.

It's time to learn a bit more about Thirza, herself. Since we've yet to take a look at another traditional source of genealogical information—the obituary—we'll start with that, today and tomorrow.

Finding someone's obituary can sometimes be easy for researchers. Uncover the date of death, the location, and, thanks to the use of several newspaper archive subscription services—or, better yet, resources to find free access to old newspapers—pull up the very article as it was published.

Not so for people in Lodi, the California town where Thirza and her husband, William Cole, lived in their later years. Until the California Digital Newspaper Collection catches up with more recent dates, folks wishing to research ancestors from that modestly-sized city will either have to go there in person to crank through microfilm rolls, or be thankful that at least some of the editions of the Lodi News-Sentinel have been digitized through the auspices of Google News.

In the case of Thirza and her husband William, I looked up their dates of death, thanks to Ancestry's California Death Index, and then held my breath while seeing whether those would be my lucky dates on Google News.

In William Cole's case—the first of the Cole couple to pass away—I was indeed in luck and found the obituary quickly. William Edward Cole, the man who married Thirza Browne in Colorado, back in 1895, had lived in Lodi for thirty two years before his death on 13 July 1947. His obituary was published the very next day, Monday the fourteenth—on the front page.

During his almost seventy four years—William died two weeks before his birthday—he had seen the death of his only child, daughter Pauline Cole Lee in 1923, and her husband, Ralph Lee. Then, too, as one of six brothers, William had already lost the oldest and the youngest of his siblings. As obituaries often do, this brief article allows us to learn more about the Cole family constellation, and a bit about William's life—and his wife's interests—in the process.

     William E. Cole, a native of Vermont, passed away on Sunday morning at the family home, 209 North School street. He was 74 years of age and death followed a short illness.
     The deceased had made his home in Lodi for the past 32 years and is survived by his wife, Mrs. Thirza Cole, who has operated the Mason Hospital for the past 26 years. He was a member of the Salida, Colo., B.P.O.E. Lodge, having received his 25-year jewel.
     In addition to his wife, the deceased leaves a foster son, Geo. I. Buck of Lodi and was the father of the late Mrs. Pauline B. Lee. Brothers surviving are Clifford C. Cole, Alberton, Montana; Howard H. Cole, Lodi, and Robert R. Cole, Oakland.
     The funeral will be held Wednesday afternoon at 2 o'clock in the chapel of the Wells Funeral Home with Rev. A. R. Boone of the Congregational church officiating.

The Last Baby Picture

Bit by bit, we're working our way through the hundred-plus year old photograph collection of a woman named Thirza Browne Cole. Though I found the pictures in an antique store in Jackson, California, the origins seemed to be anything but from California. We've already observed the studio imprint on one baby picture was from Greeley, Colorado. That led to the accidental discovery that Thirza's childhood home was situated next to the household of an uncle of the young man in the second photograph.

With this last baby picture, we already had a few hints to work with in our search. First, the baby's full name was written on the back of the photograph. And second, there was a nearly-unreadable studio imprint that said—I think—"F. L. Ray" of Salida.

Salida, where? There were two possibilities: Salida in Colorado or Salida in California.

We can't be too fussy about this baby picture, though. At least it contains a full name: Louise Van Noate. So, opting for that first possibility—a baby in Salida, Colorado—off to the most recent census record I went to see how many people there were in 1940 who claimed that exact same name.

As it turned out, not many. No, actually...more than I could handle. It appears that the Ancestry.com search engine doesn't take kindly to two-part surnames. I got plenty of hits, alright, but they were for Louises with every surname imaginable starting with Van. I tried removing the space between the Van and the Noate, but that didn't help.

Well, scratch Colorado. Let's see if California produces any better results.

Yes.

But don't expect it to be for a baby Louise Van Noate. Instead, Louise was married to a Van Noate. And she lived in Lodi, California.

Same place as Thirza.

In the 1940 census, this Louise was thirty four years of age, putting her year of birth around 1906, a believable date, considering the style and appearance of her baby picture. She was born in Colorado, thus telling us just where that town of Salida was where her photographer was located. We also learn from the census that she was married to Leon, owner of a retail drug store, and had a ten year old son named William.

The 1930 census basically agreed with all that information, minus the ten years' span in ages and a change in residence—the Van Noates had moved to Lodi from Vallejo in Solano County, California.

Pushing back another ten years to the 1920 census wouldn't help our quest, though, because by then, Louise would have been about fourteen years of age and obviously not married. So we had to snoop around for other ways to discover her identity. An entry in Ancestry's California Death Index and an obituary (thankfully) posted by a volunteer on her Find A Grave memorial gave us that one clue we were seeking: Louise Van Noate was born to William and Nellie Browne Yates. And Nellie was Thirza Cole's sister.

Thus, of all the photographs in Thirza Cole's collection, the only one I've found so far who was actually a relative to Thirza was this baby Louise. And Louise was born Eleanor Louise Yates, thus explaining why the census entry we found earlier for newlywed Nellie in Colorado hadn't rung any bells: her daughter was listed in the census as Eleanor, not Louise.

Those middle names can get you every time.

Above: Photograph, circa 1906, of baby Eleanor Louise Yates, daughter of William D. and Nellie Browne Yates of Salida, Colorado. Photograph currently in possession of author until claimed by a family member.

A Glorious Hope

Wishing you a peaceful and encouraging Resurrection Day today...