Genealogist Has a Novel Idea

Karen Harrington's interest in genealogy led her to write Janeology—a novel that comes with its own pedigree chart.

Jane, a loving mother of two, has drowned her toddler son and is charged with his murder in this powerful examination of love, loss, and family legacy. When a prosecutor decides Jane's husband Tom is partially to blame for the death and charges him with "failure to protect," Tom's attorney proposes a radical defense. He plans to create reasonable doubt about his client's alleged guilt by showing that Jane's genealogy is the cause of her violence, and that she inherited her latent violence in the same way she might inherit a talent for music or a predisposition to disease. He argues that no one could predict or prevent the tragedy, and that Tom cannot be held responsible.

With the help of a woman gifted with the power of retrocognition—the ability to see past events through objects once owned by the deceased—the defense theory of dark biology takes form. An unforgettable journey through the troubled minds and souls of eight of Jane's ancestors (named below), spanning decades and continents, this debut novel deftly illustrates the ways nature and nurture weave the fabric of one woman's life, and renders a portrait of one man left in its tragic wake.

145-Year-Old Book Finally Released

Joyce Yarde bought a copy of The Siege of Kenilworth that once belonged to Union soldier J.C. Sample.

When curiosity about the book’s plot led Yarde to turn a few pages into it, she found an inscription penned by Sample in 1863.

“Captured from the Blount House Little Washington North Carolina in June 1863,” the inscription reads. It is signed “J.C. Sample Corps G 168 P.V.I.”

That sent Yarde, a self-professed history buff, on a quest to return the “captured” property in her possession to its rightful owner, if one were living and if she could find him or her. She Googled “Little Washington, North Carolina” and came up with Blount Rumley, director of the N.C. Estuarium. A few weeks of e-mail correspondence ensued and, confident that she had at least found someone who could point her and the book in the right direction, she mailed the book to Rumley. [Link]

It All Started With a Pickled Bandit Head

This review of the novel L.A. Outlaws has piqued my interest:

Legend has it that infamous bandit Joaquin Murrieta terrorized California until he was shot and beheaded in 1853. Afterward, some say, his head was pickled and put on display until it disappeared in the San Francisco earthquake.

The story of Murrieta captured the imagination of T. Jefferson Parker, who found himself wondering what would have happened if Murrieta had a descendant who was alive today and in possession of the outlaw's head. [Link]

WorldConnect Is Not a Primary Source

A review of Alison Weir's forthcoming biography Katherine Swynford: The Story of John of Gaunt and His Scandalous Duchess raises doubts about the author's "discrimination in the use of evidence."

Weir tells us, for example, that Hugh of Swynford, Katherine’s first husband, was “a shrewd and terrifying fighter”, citing John of Gaunt’s Register as the source for this phrase. Readers might be justifiably perplexed to discover that the fourteenth-century Register of John of Gaunt includes not a single indexed reference to Hugh, and that the phrase “he was a shrewd and terrifying fighter” appears to be borrowed from an amateur genealogical blog (worldconnect.rootsweb.com, posted June 2006), which itself cites merely unspecified “registers” as its source. [Link]

No Room on Her Bookshelf for Hate

Melissa O'Brien's decision to dispose of an unwanted family heirloom led to a really touching piece in the St. Petersburg Times.

On my grandmother's bookshelf, wedged in between Katharine Hepburn's Me - Stories Of My Life and Ernest Hemingway's The Snows of Kilimanjaro was a copy of Adolf Hitler's Mein Kampf. It is a 1939 German edition, and inside the front cover, neatly scrolled like a wedding invitation, are the names of my grandparents and the date of their nuptials. My grandparents told me that this book was issued to every newly married couple in Germany in the late 1930s and early 1940s.

When both my grandparents had passed on, my mother decided to sell some of their things. I specifically asked her not to sell Mein Kampf. I wanted to find a way, short of burning the book, to dispose of it properly. The place I finally found for it may come as a surprise. I donated it to the Florida Holocaust Museum in St. Petersburg. [Link]

Top Ten Worst Ways to Begin a Family History

10. "It was October, 1956. Don Larsen had just thrown the first perfect game in World Series history, President Eisenhower was campaigning for a second term, and somewhere in Manhattan my grandfather was impregnating his sister-in-law."

9. "Down in the constricted, fetid bowels of the steamship, Jacob Horowitz waited to be evacuated."

8. "'Call me Ishmael,' our ancestor Ishmael Johnson might have said if asked 'What should we call you?'"

7. "I have few memories of Sperm Donor 4879."

6. "Let me start by saying this book would have been a whole lot better if my goddamn relatives had answered my goddamn questions."

5. "I set out to find my great-great-grandfather armed only with a tattered obituary and a sturdy shovel."

4. "My father, Mr. Smith, was probably between eighteen and forty-eight years of age when he met his future wife, Mary [--?--]."

3. "The remainder of this book is for Plus Edition subscribers only."

2. "The story of our family begins in a tiny village in northern France—or possibly Ecuador."

1. "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. Several years later, my grandmother was born in Des Moines."

The Dwopps Had a Dwy Sense of Humor

Here's a book for the genealogist who has everything but this book: Larry Ashmead's Bertha Venation and Hundreds of Other Funny Names of Real People.

William Shakespeare was moved to ask, "What's in a name?" Well, in the case of Lavender Hanky, Hedda Lettuce and Stan Dupp the answer is a hearty chuckle.

Not to mention poor old Dwayne, the son of Mr and Mrs Dwopp, who must be rather tired of hearing "Dwayne Dwopps keep falling on my head" every time he enters a room.

Sometimes names only seem funny when put in context, such as Dr De'ath the surgeon, Archbishop Cardinal Sin and Mr Fatty, head of the Freedom from Hunger campaign. [Link]

Another from the book: Nancy Ann Cianci (her last name pronounced See-Ann-See). She's a real person (the ex-wife of former Providence Mayor Vincent "Buddy" Cianci), but Dwayne Dwopp? I'm skeptical.

Some Family Reviewed

Donald Harman Akenson's new book—Some Family: The Mormons and How Humanity Keeps Track of Itself—gets reviewed in today's Globe and Mail. It's going on my Christmas wish list.

"The Saints," [Joseph] Smith wrote in 1840, "have the privilege of being baptized for those of their relatives who are dead, whom they believe would have embraced the Gospel, if they had been privileged with hearing it." This sent the faithful back to their family Bibles for the names and dates of their ancestors. The great genealogical treasure hunt had begun.

In 1918, the Mormons expanded their mission, trawling for names among non- Mormons and baptizing them once their exact place in the tree of life had been determined. The practice continues to this day, spurred on by the wish to save as many souls as possible.

Though the Mormons have instituted an admirable double-blind system for vetting new names, slipups are inevitable, and Akenson gives a few that are absolute howlers. The most laughable by far are the attempts to find a genealogy for the Norse gods Odin and Frigg, reported as having lived in "Asgard, Asia, or Eastern Europe." [Link]

A Sordid Berry-Picking Tale

Schelly at Tracing the Tribe has tagged me for the 161 Meme: open up the book you're currently reading to page 161 and share the sixth sentence. This was a real challenge for me, since I rarely read books longer than 17 pages. Fortunately, I'm just finishing Snow Falling on Cedars by David Guterson. (My policy is, if it's bad enough to ban, it's good enough to read.)

He was in these mounded rows, stooped and picking with the sun on his neck, low against the land in a sea of green and red with the smell of the earth and its berries rising like a mist, filling by the labor of his hands the twelve woven pine baskets in his caddy.

Not sure, but I think that's a metaphor for sex.

I'll Wait for the Movie

Megan didn't think much of Edward Ball's new book, The Genetic Strand: Exploring a Family History through DNA. The reviewer for the New York Post was equally unimpressed.

Ball believes Americans ought to be more skeptical of science in general and of DNA testing in particular. That's not a bad piece of advice. But it would also be a good idea to be wary of the claims of self-absorbed writers. Especially one who informs us that “everyone has 16 great-grandparents," or who tells us of a man who married either the sister or the daughter of onetime Vice President John Garner. Ball refers to the bride as Garner's sister on one paragraph, and as Garner's daughter in the next paragraph. Which one was it? Well, Garner and his wife had one child, a son. Must have been his sister.

That's the great thing about writing. It's not exactly a science. [Link]

A Wench and Her Bench

Nancy Millar—author of The Final Word: The Book of Canadian Epitaphs—says that tombstones are no place to settle scores.

"You cannot step over certain lines and call your wife a bitch or anything like that."

One of her favourite examples of an epitaph done right -- one she describes as "a friendly agreement between husband and wife" -- is a monument along an old logging road in Grand Forks, N.D.

The top inscription reads, 'Here sits the bench of a Viking wench.' Upon the woman's companion's death, a subsequent inscription was added: 'Now the Viking wench has company on her bench.' [Link]

(Almost) Forgotten Ellis Island

Lorie Conway has filmed a documentary about the 22-building hospital complex at Ellis Island. There are also a Forgotten Ellis Island book and website.

Ms. Conway found that hundreds of thousands of patient records had essentially disappeared; she hopes that her film will turn up new clues as to where they have been moved.

Over years of research, Ms. Conway said, she was able to find only one complete patient record — that of Ormond J. McDermott, an Australian who was not trying to immigrate, but merely visit to New York, in 1921. He accidentally left his passport on a ship, and was detained at Ellis Island while the authorities investigated his claims to be a sales apprentice, rather than a contract laborer. While on Ellis Island, he developed scarlet fever; he died. Mr. McDermott’s file ended up at the State Department after his father, part of an influential Australian family, filed a complaint and asked for an investigation. [Link]

Google Brings Me Back to School

Ain't it amazing what you can find online? While playing around with Google Book Search today, I found this—a floor plan of the first school I (and my father and my brother and sister) ever attended.

Despite the title, the report is actually for the year ending Dec. 31, 1891. The school was built in the summer and fall of 1889, and was expanded to three rooms over the years. The building now houses Greenwood's town office, and is also the first place I ever voted against anyone named George Bush.

As a bonus, Google included this image of the book-scanner's fingers. It's good to know that they use protection.

The First Leaves of Grass

Janice of Cow Hampshire emailed me about an unusual research request she received. Researchers at the Walt Whitman Quarterly Review are compiling a census of extant copies of the 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass. One of the copies was described as follows:

Bookplate from Newton Hall, Cambridge on front pasted-down endpaper; Inscriptions on front free endpaper: "Anson G.P. Segur Feb 13th 1856", "Bought by A.C. Smith".

Janice had little trouble assembling an impressive dossier on Anson G. P. Segur (there have been surprisingly few men of that name), but A. C. Smith remains a mystery.

The 1900 census for Brooklyn, N.Y., gives Anson's birth date as February 1839, so the book could have been a gift on his 17th birthday. But who was A.C. Smith? Was he the original purchaser (as the Whitman researchers assume), or did he purchase the book from Anson? If the latter, I wonder if he was Albridge Clinton Smith, in 1880 a lawyer in Dover, New Jersey—the same town where Anson was mayor, 1871-1873.

Feel free to find evidence to support or demolish my theory.

How the English Evolved

While researching his new book, A Farewell to Alms, Gregory Clark wondered if the descendants of English people who survived disasters like the Black Death gained, through natural selection, a greater resistance to disease. This greater immunity, he supposed, might help explain how the Industrial Revolution came about.

In support of the disease-resistance idea, cities like London were so filthy and disease ridden that a third of their populations died off every generation, and the losses were restored by immigrants from the countryside. That suggested to Dr. Clark that the surviving population of England might be the descendants of peasants.

A way to test the idea, he realized, was through analysis of ancient wills, which might reveal a connection between wealth and the number of progeny. The wills did that, but in quite the opposite direction to what he had expected.

Generation after generation, the rich had more surviving children than the poor, his research showed. That meant there must have been constant downward social mobility as the poor failed to reproduce themselves and the progeny of the rich took over their occupations. “The modern population of the English is largely descended from the economic upper classes of the Middle Ages,” he concluded. [Link]

As the wealthy dropped in social status, says Clark, they passed down (culturally, or perhaps genetically) their capitalist values to the workforce that drove the Industrial Revolution.

Most of my ancestors sat out the Industrial Revolution, and, in light of my life of abject poverty, I'm guessing I lack the capitalism gene. I'm well suited for serfdom.

Justice Was Not Always Swift

The good folks at NEHGS sent along some additions to the list of Princess Di's Decapitated Kin:

The following were also executed, presumably by decapitation:

Charles I
William, Lord Russell
Mary Queen of Scots
1st Baron Capell
1st Earl of Holland
1st Duke of Hamilton
2nd Marquess of Huntly
7th Earl of Derby: Lord Derby's last words were “I die for God, the King, and the Laws, and this makes me not be ashamed of my life, nor afraid of my death.”

Lord Russell was dispatched by Jack Ketch—the notoriously inept executioner who later botched the beheading of James, Duke of Monmouth.

On climbing the scaffold, Monmouth picked up the axe and ran his fingers along the blade, asking Ketch if he thought it was sharp enough for the job. He handed Ketch six guineas, promising him six more if he did a clean job: "Pray do not serve me as you did my Lord Russell. I have heard you struck him four or five times; If you strike me twice, I cannot promise you not to stir."

Ketch had an attack of nerves and his first blow only grazed the back of the duke's head. Monmouth, who had refused the blindfold, turned his head around and gazed directly at Ketch, further unnerving him. When two more blows failed to sever the head, Ketch threw the axe down and offered 40 guineas to anyone in the crowd who could do better. At this the Sheriff of Middlesex, who was in charge of the execution, threatened to have him killed if he did not finish his job. When two more blows failed, Ketch had to use his knife, butchering the Duke like a pig. [Link]

Order a copy of The Ancestry of Diana, Princess of Wales for Twelve Generations to learn more about her hapless, headless relatives. I haven't read it yet, but it has already inspired me to add more decapitation stories to my own family history.

Traces of Dorothy

The New Hampshire Historical Society's "book doctor" has been repairing the damage done by overeager genealogists for many years.

In 16 years, Dorothy Emery has patched up The Manning Family and taped together The History of Dunbarton. She's ripped apart and rebuilt The Paine Ancestry and glued Concord's vital records.

"You can see traces of Dorothy all over here," Emery said one morning last week, running her hand over the stacks of books in the hushed New Hampshire Historical Society Library. She paused on a tattered copy of the 1874 Concord city directory. "Does this one need a trace of Dorothy?" [Link]

The Naked Quaker

Diane Rapaport's second book, The Naked Quaker: True Crimes and Controversies from the Courts of Colonial New England, is due out in October. Based on her examination of court records, she has concluded that my ancestors probably did have sex.

“I think most of these stories could end up surprising to readers who imagine Puritan New England was some drab, dull place where people sat around in church and never had fun ... or sex,” she said. “I think people will be surprised by how feisty the early Colonists were.”

The book’s title story involves a 17th century Quaker woman from Hampton, Lydia Wardell, one of New England’s early Quakers, who showed her contempt for Puritan authorities by taking her clothes off during church services. [Link]

Rapaport's first book, by the way, was the indispensable New England Court Records: A Research Guide for Genealogists and Historians. Anyone whose New England ancestor left a will or dropped her drawers at church should own it.

George Bush Wrote a Book (No, Really!)

Professor George Bush was the first cousin of the president's great-great-great-grandfather, and the author of a book critical of Islam’s founder.

“The Life of Mohammed” went out of print a century ago, and there it was expected to remain, in perpetuity. But in the early 21st century, it was reissued by a tiny publisher simply because of the historical rhyme that a man with the same name occupied the White House. The first George Bush never witnessed the Second Coming, but now his book was enjoying an unexpected afterlife.

Predictably, it enraged some readers in the Middle East, where rage is an abundant commodity. In 2004, Egyptian censors at Cairo’s Al-Azhar Islamic Research Academy denounced the book by President Bush’s “grandfather” as a slander on the prophet, and the State Department was forced to issue a document clarifying the family relationship. [Link]

Princess Di's Decapitated Kin

NEHGS is now taking pre-orders for Richard K. Evans' new book, The Ancestry of Diana, Princess of Wales for Twelve Generations, due out in August. I'm impressed by the number of headless ancestors mentioned in the press release alone:

• A significant twelfth-generation ancestor was Queen Elizabeth I’s favorite, Robert Devereux, 2nd Earl of Essex, whose excessive ambition displeased his sovereign and ultimately led him to the chopping block.

• Another Scots forebear was Archibald Campbell, 9th Earl of Argyll, general of the forces that invaded Scotland in support of Monmouth’s rebellion in 1685. As a result, Argyll lost his head at the same place where his father, the 1st Marquess of Argyll, was decapitated for changing sides one time too many during the English Civil War.

It took three strokes of the ax to detach Robert Devereux's head—probably two more than he had hoped.