At Least a Candidate

Archived news reports can help augment genealogical research, but should come embedded with a caveat emptor warning regarding editorial errors. That, I learned long ago. And don't intend to ever forget.

In the search for details on the life of murdered immigration officer Marshall Jackson of Winnipeg, I was elated to discover the local newspaper during the years he had lived in North Dakota is now part of the Chronicling America collection of the U.S. Library of Congress. Still, I made sure to proceed cautiously in case of any potential editorial hazards.

My goal in checking each mention of Marshall Jackson's name in the North Dakota newspapers in the Chronicling America collection was to see whether the memorial comments printed in Winnipeg following his passing were indeed accurate. In particular, the Manitoba Free Press had mentioned that "Marsh" had once served as Sheriff in Fargo, North Dakota.

Already, I was discovering that that report was not entirely correct. Fargo was located in Cass County, while we have already seen that, at least in the 1900 census, Marshall Jackson was serving as constable in the town of Neche in Pembina County to the north.

While Cass County isn't Pembina County—and constable doesn't equal sheriff—I thought there might still be some truth to the matter, so I trawled through the many references to Marshall Jackson found in the Chronicling America collection to see what I could find.

Right away, I found a mention of some activity of interest. From The Pioneer Express, Pembina's newspaper, on August 24, 1900:

Marshal Jackson of Neche was in the city on Wednesday evening and made us a pleasant call. Mr. Jackson was on his way to Drayton and expected to make several calls on his way. He informs us that he expects to be a candidate for the office of sheriff before the republican county convention, and from present prospects confidently expects the nomination. Mr. Jackson's record as a police officer and constable is of the best and proves him to be a faithful and efficient officer worthy of promotion.

While the slant on that article slides farther toward editorial spin than news reporting, it does show us that Marsh at least intended to run for sheriff.

A second such insertion in the same newspaper—this time on September 7—shows the man was busy pursuing his political dream.

Marshal Jackson of Neche was in town last week talking politics to some of the boys. "Marsh" is spoken of as a likely candidate for sheriff on the republican ticket.

Sure enough, in a column of convention reports gathered in the September 19 edition of the Grand Forks Daily Herald, one day after the republican county convention in Neche, Marshall Jackson's name appeared among those who had been nominated. It was now official: he was running for sheriff.

Now it was time to get to work. As election day drew near, Marsh did seem to be out there, connecting with prospective voters, according to mentions like this one in The Pioneer Express on October 19:

Marshall Jackson and J.W. Harvey have been canvassing this district and apparently are well pleased with prospects. They are both good fellows and deserve a popular vote.

It may have been too early for such confidence. The local newspaper began printing the list of candidates for all offices in late October. Marsh was running against Democrat candidate F.J. Farrow. From what I can glean from other editions of The Pioneer Express, Farrow appeared to be the incumbent.

As it turned out, Marshall Jackson couldn't generate enough support among the voters by the time of the November election. The tally—not printed in the Express until November 9—showed our man gleaning a total of 1,412 votes. His opponent, Sheriff Farrow, came in at 1,759. I'll let you do the math.

Still, there's one thing I've noticed about researching ancestors and others who once served in law enforcement careers: you can find a lot of mentions of their name in the local paper. Considering I received five pages worth of hits at Chronicling America for Marshall Jackson's name—within the limited time frame of his few years in the Dakota Territory and new state of North Dakota—it appeared there was a lot more to learn about his career as constable than in his brief run for sheriff.

    

Finding the Jackson Family

It isn't every day that one uncovers a murder mystery among the stories tucked inside one's family history. Even though the victim in this case—Marshall Jackson of Winnipeg, Canada—wasn't part of my family (sadly, it was his murderer who was a distant relative in my matrilineal line), I wanted to trace his story to find out more about the man.

At the time of his 1917 death in the line of duty, working as part of the immigration service, Marshall Jackson lived with his family in a section of Winnipeg known as Fort Rouge. Newspaper reports of his funeral helped pinpoint his family in the census taken only one year prior to his passing. Although the household listed Marshall, his wife "Ester" and two daughters, we had seen from newspaper coverage that he also had two sons—one living in Brandon in the same province of Manitoba as his parents, the other in the neighboring province, Saskatchewan, in a place called Moose Jaw.

Rather than attempt the rather unwieldy genealogical chore of trying to find these Jackson sons at their place of residence in that same census enumeration—a trying feat, considering such a common surname—I thought it might be more expeditious to wander back through the census records systematically, until I could locate a year in which they all resided in one household.

Pulling up the prior census, though, proved unhelpful. There, still in Winnipeg, were the Jacksons—sans sons, unfortunately. The 1911 census showed wife Hester and daughters Gladys and Eleanor, but no sons.

Again, skipping backwards another five years to the previous census record of 1906, we find the same household. No sons.

Five years prior to that, in the 1901 census: nothing. No Marshall Jackson family whatsoever—with or without sons.

It might have seemed like we were doomed to have to go the more tedious route of eliminating numerous Jackson families in those two other Canadian locations in the hope of finding the right sons of Marshall and Hester Jackson. Except for one thing: looking at the actual digitized replica of the census page reveals much more than the mere transcription provides (at least in current formats). And on that digitized record, we could glean a few more facts to help reconstruct this family tree.

For one thing, the 1916 census showed that the Marshalls' youngest daughter was born in the United States. Because she was twenty one years of age at the time of that census, it would mean that the family—well, this daughter and her mother, at the very least—would not have been in Canada as late as 1895.

This particular census, however, helps us pinpoint the year of immigration a little more clearly—if, however, the reporting party remembered the incident clearly.

The 1916 census record shows Marshall's wife—not a citizen at the time of her arrival in Canada—to have come to that country in 1904. The same thing was reported for her two American-born daughters, indicating they must have been in the United States during the time of that country's census in 1900—thus addressing why they wouldn't have shown up in the 1901 census in Canada.

And sure enough: there the family was, in the town of Neche in Pembina County, one of the most northern counties in the new state of North Dakota.

Although the precise handwriting of the enumerator made reading the names of each family member a snap, it was somewhat complicated by his less than stellar spelling abilities, thus not quite providing us the precise names of each of Marshall Jackson's sons. However, we do have an approximation of what their names were. "Bernatt," the eldest, was fifteen years of age, having been born in North Dakota in December of 1884.

The second son, also born in North Dakota, arrived in June of 1886, bringing him to the brink of fourteen years of age at the point of the 1900 census. The only problem is: I can't read his name. It looks suspiciously like "Irl," making me wonder whether it should actually be Earl—until I succumb to pondering the possibility that it might have been Gil. I find it more forgivable to have to endure bad handwriting than poor spelling.

Of course, the girls were both listed—Gladys, having been born in October of 1891, and her younger sister "Ellen" in August of 1896—as was their then-thirty six year old mother, Hester. Apparently, Marshall and Hester had by then been married for seventeen years, placing the year of their marriage around 1883, and the location—considering Hester was, by other reports, actually American and not Canadian, as this census mistakenly identified her—somewhere in the United States. Indeed, the date of Marshall's arrival in the country was marked as 1881, most likely precluding the possibility of a Canadian marriage.

Another interesting detail of that 1900 census in North Dakota was the listing of Marshall's occupation. The census reported him to be serving as constable. While not to the rank of sheriff that the Winnipeg newspapers had later reported him to be—and certainly nowhere near the size of city his reported location of Fargo would have been at the time—the position of constable was a form of law enforcement officer, in some cases an elected official.

Although by this census record, Marshall Jackson had not, exactly, served as sheriff as the Winnipeg newspapers later reported, there were other indications that the paper may not have missed the mark by as much as it seems here. It was another newspaper report—this time from stateside—that provided a few hints.

Above: The Marshall Jackson household in the 1900 U.S. Census for the town of Neche in Pembina County, North Dakota. Image courtesy Ancestry.com.

Documenting the Details

It doesn't take a deep examination of newspaper articles to realize that the editorial process is prone to errors. Genealogists are often overjoyed to discover mentions—no matter how fleeting—in the daily press of their ancestors' home towns, but that joy can sometimes be short lived if not tempered by a cautious double-check in corresponding official documents.

Take the Find A Grave entry I mentioned yesterday. While I was delighted to find a newspaper reprint of Marshall Jackson's photograph posted on his Find A Grave memorial by a well-meaning volunteer, I couldn't help notice some possible discrepancies.

For one thing, his date of birth was given in the Find A Grave entry only as a year—1862—meaning we'd have to delve further to sharpen that detail. That, however, is not my main concern, as much as the fact that his place of birth was listed as North Dakota. If you are a history buff focused on the American West, you will know that the state of North Dakota didn't even exist then; lumped in with what eventually became its twin state, South Dakota, the area was then known as the Dakota Territory.

More important than that slight error, though, is the fact that this detail disagreed with the newspaper report back in Winnipeg, the day the news of his murder hit his hometown newspaper. According to the Manitoba Free Press on January 26, 1917, Marshall Jackson was not born in Dakota—no matter what one chose to call the place—but was born near Peterborough, Ontario.

Considering such a discrepancy, when his obituary mentioned he was survived by a wife, two sons and two daughters, you know I had to check that one out.

Unlike the census records in the United States—regularly scheduled for intervals of ten years' duration—the Canadian census from the western provinces provided us a glimpse of the listing of local residents only one year prior to this 1917 tragedy. Thus, it was fairly easy to determine just which household was the right Jackson household.

Thankfully, the Free Press had also provided the Jackson family's address in Winnipeg at the time: 697 Warsaw Avenue. While the 1916 census record showed a different house number, the Jackson family was right there on Warsaw: fifty two year old grain inspector, Marshall Jackson (who was indeed born in Ontario, at least according to this census enumeration), his wife, Hester, plus two daughters, "Gladas" and "Ellan." Both twenty four year old Gladys and twenty one year old Ellen were entered as born in the United States.

Those details seemed to corroborate nicely the newspaper report that, before his fifteen years "in the investigation business," Marshall Jackson "had come to Winnipeg from Fargo, N.D., where he had been sheriff."

If you suspect my next point of inquiry will be to check out that claim that Marsh had once been sheriff, you know me well. Count your tally as having gained bonus points if you also wondered whether I would still pursue the record to discover the names of the two as-yet missing sons' names. We'll trace the family back through the 1911 and 1906 Canadian census records, and then jump the border to the United States census record for 1900, to see what else we can discover about this family. 

 

Gone in Five

It was a somber gathering in Winnipeg, that late Monday morning of January 29, 1917, to await the incoming train from Ontario. It wasn't exactly for a passenger that the crowd awaited the train's arrival. It was, however, on behalf of a person that they had gathered: Marshall Jackson, the recently slain detective who had taken on the assignment of conveying an extradited prisoner to Windsor, Ontario. His remains, escorted by an official from the Ottawa Immigration Department, were to arrive home that day.

Marshall Jackson had passed away only days before. According to the coroner's report in the records of the Sandwich West division of Essex County, he had died on that January 25th, near Saint Clair Junction in that same district. The coroner noted the cause as "a shot in abdomen by James Stewart" who was "being brought to Windsor for deportation." Mercifully—at least according to the coroner's reckoning—the victim had "died in about five minutes."

Gathered at the station in Winnipeg, four days later, were members of Marsh's family, along with representatives from "Damon Lodge, No. 5, Knights of Pythias" (listed as "Dominion Lodge" in a later newspaper report, along with a note that he was also affiliated with the Atabara Temple No. 149, D.O.K.K.).

The plan called for a private ceremony at the family's home the following day, from which the funeral cortège would then proceed to the Fort Rouge Methodist Church for a public service. Committal was to be at Elmwood Cemetery.

As I gather these details from the various newspaper articles, I'm working on locating additional documents to verify those reports at the close of Marshall Jackson's life. Indeed, his burial at Elmwood was corroborated by an entry in Find A Grave—although admittedly, that resource is not always error-free. Included in the Find A Grave entry was a clipping from an unnamed newspaper, with the caption,

Victim: Winnipeg private detective shot to death by his prisoner, William Anderson, on speeding train near Windsor, Ont.

The news clipping was accompanied by a photograph of Marshall Jackson, himself. Of course, we now know that William Anderson was merely one alias used by John Syme Hogue, and we've already discussed his side of this story. But now that we have these few details on Marshall Jackson, it's time to delve into his own story—at least as much as online resources permit.

Above: Portion of the death records of Essex County, Ontario, Canada, showing the Medical Certificate of Death for Marshall Jackson. Image courtesy Ancestry.com.

Getting to Know "Marsh"

When the news first broke on January 25, 1917, that a Dominion immigration officer had been shot in the line of duty, the papers back in his hometown of Winnipeg got the scoop, alright—but they got it wrong. Announcing in the Manitoba Free Press that it was Detective Nesbitt who was shot, the editors found themselves in the uncomfortable position—at the bottom of the very same front page column—of admitting there was no such person in the employ of the Winnipeg police force.

What did come to light, though, was a series of articles revealing just a little bit about the man who was killed early that morning. While those articles may be found disappointingly inadequate for genealogists hoping to locate identifying names of the bereaved family members, the series of clues about Marshall Jackson does reveal several details about the man, his career, and his earlier life.

Right away, the newspaper caught its error and explained,

The only Jackson known to the police in Winnipeg was Marshall Jackson, usually known as "Marsh." Mr. Jackson was a prominent private detective, and did considerable work for the [Sir Rodmond Palen] Roblin government. He also figured in Saskatchewan elections. His agency supplied private detectives for departmental stores, banks, and similar institutions, and being an old-timer he was well established in Winnipeg.

The next day, while newspapers on both sides of the border were furiously following the progress of the manhunt for Marsh's slayer, the Manitoba Free Press slipped in a small notice about the man's funeral, in the midst of a brief biographical sketch about Marsh.

Jackson was well known all over Canada, more especially in the west. He was born near Peterborough, Ont. He had been in the investigation business for fifteen years. He had come to Winnipeg from Fargo, N.D., where he had been sheriff. He was about 50 years of age.

There was more explanation of Marsh's connection to government:

For the past four years, Jackson had been employed more or less by the Dominion government. He was a seed grain inspector at one time, and during the latter years was a special investigator, and employed in the deportation of dangerous criminals.

Naturally, with those business connections—and especially considering the manner in which he died—it was no surprise to read that the "Dominion government will have charge of the funeral."

With all that detail on Marshall Jackson's work history, one would have hoped for a more complete obituary than the brief paragraph offered on his family. Still, I'll let that suffice me for a start on the genealogical research trail.

Besides his wife, two boys, one in Brandon and one in Moose Jaw, and two girls, who live with their mother at 697 Warsaw avenue, Fort Rouge, survive.

The Other Side of the Story

Accompanied by an official of the Ottawa Immigration department, the body of Marshall Jackson, the well-known Winnipeg detective, who was killed while escorting a prisoner...will arrive in Winnipeg at 11 o'clock this morning.

That was the news report in the Manitoba Free Press on Monday, January 29, 1917, which brings us back to the other side of the story I set aside, back in January of this year—almost exactly ninety nine years after this newspaper entry. It was—at least on the side I had been talking about—the story of John Syme Hogue, son of a civil engineer in Charleston, West Virginia, whose unfortunate life choices found him on death row in a prison in Ontario, Canada. The reason: murder of an immigration officer handling the process of his extradition to stand trial back in the United States.

The other side of the story, of course, would be that of Marshall Jackson, the Winnipeg detective assigned to escort John Hogue—still being referred to under one of his many aliases—back to Windsor in Ontario, where he was to oversee the transfer of his prisoner to United States law enforcement personnel at the international border.

While there are several newspaper reports which included enough details on the man to develop a sketch of who he was, the downside to that attempt is the typical rush to publish in the face of getting "the scoop" ahead of the competition. At first, the Winnipeg newspaper identified the officer as "Detective Nesbitt"—until someone from the police force must have pointed out that they had no such detective by that name. For a while, it seemed the number of aliases for the reports on the now-deceased detective was doomed to catch up with the number of aliases assigned to his assailant.

It is not simply to sort out the chronology—or merely the correct identity—of the slain officer that I want to pick up this thread of the narrative. As you likely have realized from following along here at A Family Tapestry, it's the stories that exert that powerful pull on me—of course I want to know Marshall Jackson's story, as well.

Even more than that, though, is an additional pull this story exerts on me, personally. Because I am married to a law enforcement professional, I have had the vicarious—albeit admittedly distant—experience of knowing the impact on those on the force who have lost a co-worker who has died in the line of duty. It is an awful experience with multiple repercussions, not only for immediate family, but for those who worked with the fallen officer, and for the community in which that person once served. Whenever I hear of an officer who was injured or killed during the course of work, I can't help but hear echoes of officer safety warnings in my head—the oft-repeated kind drilled into public safety employees over the course of their career. When I read a story like Marshall Jackson's, I can't help but cringe when I realize what happened to him. Stories like his became the training material used to hopefully prevent further such tragedies from occurring.

For the rest of the week, we'll revisit this other side of the John Syme Hogue story. We'll explore what we can reconstruct of Marshall Jackson's own role in this story, his work history, and his family's story. Between newspaper reports, census records, cemetery records and other findings, this will help us understand a bit more about who this seasoned detective was who nevertheless lost his life in the course of a day's work.

Above: French impressionist painter Claude Monet's 1885 oil on canvas, "Train in the Snow." Courtesy Wikipedia; in the public domain.

Off the Shelf: Born For This

April was a month of pursuits that expanded to fill more than my allotted thirty days. I kept stumbling upon an ever-expanding clue trail in tracking down the family of missionary Peachy Taliaferro Wilson (and really, with a name like that, who could resist?). From that conclusion, I couldn't help but ponder the absence of a fellow genealogical researcher—and attempt to find the answer to my question—all the while revisiting reams of printouts and notes on a family tree I hadn't revisited for well over a decade.

When I came up for breath, it was nearly mid-May. And I hadn't attended to my usual monthly posts, like my resolution to do some indexing each month. And my promise to myself to read a book a month. That hasn't happened since the beginning of March.

Besides, I'm mindful of the special occurrences the month of May always brings—especially graduations. So when I saw an announcement that my favorite nonconformist had just published his most recent book, I had to add it to my collection.

Not just for my own reading pleasure, though. I have another motive in acquiring this newest title: I suspect it will be a great graduation present, at least for forward-thinking college graduates.

I was so keen on getting started reading this book that I couldn't wait for the hardcover to reach my home address. (Note: in my world, every book is a keeper, so every book I buy tends to be a hardcover edition.)

So I took Amazon up on their offer and read the first chapter, right off the page on their website. I wasn't disappointed. Chris Guillebeau's Born for This examines three aspects of the enviable work position: doing what brings you joy in life, receiving reasonable pay for the value you add through your work, and a third element the author calls "flow"—"the all-encompassing feeling you get from working well at something you enjoy." If you find yourself getting so engrossed in your task that you are surprised to realize how much time has past since you last took a break, you are experiencing the positive aspect he calls "flow."

Being the nonconformist that he is, Guillebeau isn't merely going to provide pat answers to the career question. In all his books, he's been careful to present a wide variety of perspectives and approaches, courtesy of the many interviews he conducts in preparation for each publication. I trust he won't disappoint on this one.

I've had a set of side interests that have become lifelong pursuits. One of them has to do with the methods of career selection, planning, and development. Maybe that's because I've never really known what I want to do when I grow up—so I've been fascinated with how others have successfully gone about it. The discovery process, that is. Plus the application. And the follow-through. Life purpose is something so easily camouflaged by life itself. Anyone who can simplify or clarify the process has my ear—and, I suspect, a good number of others' as well. I'm hoping to introduce a few freshly-minted graduates to this way of thinking.