text:
tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44844543655590457262015-10-05T06:42:03.071-07:00Pages from the Ancestry BindersI like telling stories - and true stories are the best kind. That's why I like genealogy.Susan W. email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-58387763754096718942015-06-15T06:00:00.000-07:002015-06-15T06:00:00.912-07:00Mystery Monday: Otis

I recently completed an ancestry binder for a co-worker—we'll call her "Binny." She was my youngest client ever, and she wanted to know more about her paternal ancestry. Binny knew only a few facts, and one of them was that her father's father was a man named Otis Coleman. Grandpa Otis soon became my favorite person on Binny's tree.<o:p></o:p>

Otis Coleman was born on February 9, 1918, according to various public records. His obituary in the La Salle (Illinois) News Tribune(9-24-2001) corroborates this, saying, "He was born February 9, 1918, in Buchanan [Henry County], Tenn., to Richard and Ristie (Green) Coleman."<o:p></o:p>

So, I concluded that Otis' parents—and therefore my client's great-grandparents—were Richard and Ristie Coleman. Or were they?<o:p></o:p>

According to the Henry County, Tennessee marriage register that I found online, Richard Coleman and Miss Rista Green were married by a Justice of the Peace on January 3, 1920. If Otis was really their child, it would have been more typical for them to marry before their child was born in 1918, not two years later—but it's possible they weren't. <o:p></o:p>

Moving ahead ten years, in the 1930 census for Henry County, Tennessee, Richard and Risty are listed with four children including Otis, and Otis is 12 years old. His relationship to Richard is listed as "son." And they have been married for 16 years (since ages 21 and 19), which would be 1914—not correct... They've extended their marriage back to encompass Otis' birth!<o:p></o:p>

However—things got squidgy when I went back to the 1920 census. Here are Richard, age 25, and Rista, age 16, married and living in Henry County, Tennessee, just where I expected them. But—no child named Otis is listed! No children at all… So—where was Otis in 1920?<o:p></o:p>

And wait a minute!… If the 1920 census gives the correct age for Rista, then she was just 14 years old in 1918, the year that Otis was born. Could Rista really have been his mother at such a young age? I know it's medically possible—but is it likely?<o:p></o:p>

I took a closer look at Rista's age. According to the 1910 census record, listing her as age 6, she would have been born around 1904. Her 1920 census with Richard, listing her as age 16, would also put her birth at around 1904. Unfortunately, no ages are given on the 1920 marriage register. <o:p></o:p>

In 1930 she is listed as 35—very doubtful... Findagrave.com wasn't very helpful either, giving her birth as 1908—but no grave marker or other proof. So the best evidence still points to Rista being born around 1904, and being no more than 14 when baby Otis was born in 1918. <o:p></o:p>

Binny and I want to know… Who were Otis' parents, really? I did some digging online, and made a few phone calls, and although Henry County didn't have birth certificates that old, I was glad to find out that the State of Tennessee began keeping them in 1916—just in time to have one for Otis' birth in 1918—at least I hope so. Compliance wasn't 100% in those early days, as any genealogist knows. Nevertheless, Binny and I ordered Otis' birth certificate a couple of weeks ago—and now, all we can do is wait, and hope for some answers.<o:p></o:p>

Susan W. Moseyhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-3165775995134838032015-05-25T10:46:00.000-07:002015-05-25T10:46:09.719-07:00Thank you, Harold!

Working on an ancestry binder for a client, and came across this 1930 census record for Aurora, Illinois... Census taker was Harold Forsyth. Look at the wonderful rows of neat printing! What if all census records looked like this!Susan W. Moseyhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-77998440725142983032015-05-16T06:00:00.000-07:002015-05-16T06:00:00.484-07:00Sibling Saturday: Captain Jack
Recently I found another great story from the vast riches of my latest client's family tree. This one crosses two centuries and four states. It's the story of his 5th great grandfather, John "Captain Jack" Hurst, and his two wives and many children. For the details of this story, I draw from the work of many researchers before me, who left notes on several trees on rootsweb.<o:p></o:p>

John Hurst was born in 1732 in Virginia; his father William had come from England in 1715. He was married to Lydia Ann Smith around 1760, and they had ten children. (One daughter, Nancy, was most likely an orphaned niece of Lydia's whom they adopted.) But Lydia died in 1786, not long after having her last child. This left John, who by now was a Revolutionary War veteran and a prosperous landowner in Virginia, a widower at age 54—but not for long.<o:p></o:p>

John was called "Captain John" or "Captain Jack" during his lifetime, but this was a nickname. His rank in the military was Lieutenant, according to what scant records exist, and that's what the military grave marker issued in 1955 says (application pictured). His large family was often referred to as an "army," so perhaps that's where the nickname came from. <o:p></o:p>

Researchers John & Cindy McCachern relate this story about John's second marriage:

<o:p></o:p>

"John heard of Mary [Lindsey], a widow in Georgia, and hitched up his 4-horse team and, taking several of his slaves and provisions for the journey, went to see her. Immediately on his arrival, he proposed and gave her until the next morning to think about it. Next morning after breakfast he pushed back [the table] and said (he had a deep commanding voice), "Well, what do you say about it?" and she said "Yes." He gave orders to his slaves and promptly loaded up her household effects and along with her children, took them to his Virginia home." <o:p></o:p>

Descendant Benjamin Franklin Hurst gives these details about their life afterwards:<o:p></o:p>

"John [Jack] Hurst was raising an army of his own which was destined to fight battles west of the Cumberland Mountains, as we shall see... He chose his first move to Green County, Tennessee about 1790 and remained there ten years… He then gathered his large family of sons and daughters and many grandchildren, and moved north-eastward through Kentucky, stopping at Beargrass Creek in what is now Bullitt County, Kentucky. <o:p></o:p>

John Hurst, now 71 years of age, marshaled his forces and crossed the Ohio River in 1803. John settled his "army" twenty miles west of New Albany, Indiana… John Hurst had now found his Paradise in a new land far from the grand old dominion of his nativity. He now had all of his family with him, with the exception of one, son, John, who broke ranks and strayed off to Kentucky… In 1806 this John Hurst and his family drifted across the Ohio River and renewed his place in the hitherto unbroken ranks. It was a second lucky twist of fate that his son William 14, was not drowned in crossing the Ohio River, or else you would not be reading this story."<o:p></o:p>

John and Mary each had around ten children from their first marriages. But this is one "blended family" that truly got along! They stayed together as they moved westward from Virginia, and two of John's children from his first marriage ended up marrying two of Mary's children from her first marriage. Yes, indeed—two different pairs of stepsiblings ended up marrying. Elijah Hurst married Mary Lindsey, and Leah Hurst married Jesse Lindsey. And thus, Leah and Jesse became my client's 4th great grandparents.<o:p></o:p>

John became quite the leader in Hursttown, Indiana. According to a history of the area written by Mrs. Victor MacIntosh, John deeded land for a school house, a Methodist church, and a cemetery. Other families came and settled near them, and Hursttown became a community center with a post office, shoe shop, and blacksmith's shop. John served as sheriff of Harrison County from 1812 to 1816. Whitten Chapel, the church he founded, was the first church built in Jackson Township. One researcher claims that John bought eighteen quarter sections of land and gave one to each of his eighteen sons and stepsons, so that they would settle there. <o:p></o:p>

Captain Jack died in 1825 at the ripe old age of 93 and is buried at Hursttown Cemetery in Harrison County, Indiana.

Susan W. Moseyhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-80098960403349107832015-05-04T06:00:00.000-07:002015-05-07T14:16:50.292-07:00Military Monday: Levi Newton Scott, In War and in Peace

I found another great story on my latest client's tree… This one concerns one of his 3rdgreat grandfathers, Levi Newton Scott. <o:p></o:p>

Levi was born in Tennessee in 1841, fourth son of Anthony "Hanty" and Lucinda Barnes Scott. (Family tradition has it that Lucinda was Cherokee Indian, but that remains to be proven.) He grew up in a large farm family that moved from Wayne County, Tennessee to Dallas County, Missouri in 1854.<o:p></o:p>

Levi served in the Union forces during the Civil War (as did his father). Familysearch.com turned up three different service records for Levi. The first shows him in Company G of the Dallas County Regiment of the Missouri Home Guard, where he served from June to September 1861. The Missouri History Museum website (www.civilwarmo.org) tells us this about the Missouri Home Guards:<o:p></o:p>

Created in the summer of 1861 by General Nathaniel Lyon, the Home Guard were to stay at home and go into action only to defend their neighborhoods. Around 15,000 Home Guard were enlisted. They were armed by the Union government but received no pay unless on active duty. They wore no uniforms, and only 10,000 troops actually received weapons—the rest used their own. Camp gear and food were supplied for some when on active duty. Approximately 241 Home Guard companies were formed, but they were disbanded in late 1861. <o:p></o:p>

By 1862 Levi was married for the first time, to Elizabeth Ann Box. They had at least three children in the next six years. <o:p></o:p>

In the meantime, Levi ended up back in the military—pressure must have been strong for volunteers, even married men. This time, he was in Company M of the 8thCavalry Regiment, Missouri State Militia. The regiment saw action all over Arkansas and Missouri—scouting, attacking trains, capturing a fort, and other operations. He also spent some time in Company H of the 14th Cavalry Regiment in April 1862 to March 1863. The 1890 veteran's census tells us that he served three years (1862-65) during the "war of the rebellion" and that he was injured—but at least he survived. Civilwararchive.com tells us that the 8thCavalry Regiment lost 77 enlisted men to war injuries and 131 enlisted men to disease during the course of the war. <o:p></o:p>

A few years after the war, Elizabeth died at age 25. Levi found himself a widower at age 27 with three young children—Sarah, Melissa Ann, and Henry. As was often the case in those days, within a year the young father had found a new mother for his children. His second wife, Mary Catherine Hoover, helped him raise his three children, and they had two more—James and Cora. By the 1870 census they had settled down to spend the rest of their lives farming in Dallas County, Missouri. <o:p></o:p>

The Veteran's Schedule of the 1890 Census lists Levi as a Civil War veteran with an invalid pension. His disabilities included catarrh (chronic sinus problems) and "injured with powder, right leg." Pension index cards indicate that he received a pension starting in 1880, and it was increased in 1912.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>Mary Catherine died in 1904, but Levi was a widower for only a few years, marrying a third time in 1907, to Caladonia Russell Engle, who outlived him.

<o:p></o:p>

Levi and his family must have been proud of his wartime service to his country; his gravestone proudly displays the details. He died in 1915 at age 74 and was buried at Reynolds Cemetery, next to his second wife.<o:p></o:p>

Photos: Connie Chrisman Hatch on findagrave; ancestry.com; Amanda424 on findagrave.
Susan W. Moseyhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-6960451030067796012015-04-26T06:00:00.000-07:002015-04-26T06:00:05.406-07:00Black Sheep Sunday: Falling Off the Wagon
Lately I've been working with a distant cousin to explore my Erickson roots. (My mother was an Erickson.) Recently I told the story of Great Grandpa Karl Erickson's farm that became a church; this story is about Karl's father, John Erickson. He fell off the wagon—both figuratively and, at the end of his life, literally.<o:p></o:p>

John Erickson was born Johann Erichson in Mecklenburg, Germany in 1838. He came to America in 1868 with his wife Caroline and their two sons, Johann and Karl, on the clipper ship "Electric." I've seen a drawing of the ship, and it looks so romantic in the picture! But in reality, crossing the sea in a sailing ship in steerage class was more like a nightmare. I should write about that some other time.<o:p></o:p>

The 1870 census finds John and Caroline living in Will County, Illinois with their two young sons and Mary Erickson, 73 (likely John's mother). John is a farmer with a couple of cows, according to the agricultural schedule. He doesn't own land and he is not yet a citizen, but he was naturalized in 1876—almost as soon as he could have been, since the waiting period was five years at the time.<o:p></o:p>

John's wife Caroline died in 1872, when the boys were thirteen and eleven. Could that be when John's life started to unravel? By the 1880 census, both boys were working as farmhands on other farms, and John is nowhere to be found in the census. He remarried around 1882, to the longsuffering Sophia Schultz, ten years his junior. By the 1900 census John and Sophia are living in a rented house and he is a day laborer—tough work for a man in his sixties! <o:p></o:p>

By 1908, when John was 70, things had gotten bad. The Joliet Herald News ran a short article on October 26 entitled "Sons Cited to Give Support to Father." Apparently John Jr. and Karl were called before a judge and asked why their homeless father was about to be declared a pauper by the courts, when he had two perfectly healthy adult sons who could support him. The October 27 edition reported that "John Erickson Sr… for whom a petition was filed to have him declared a pauper, will be given a home with his son John, and another son will contribute to his support." The end of the story? Not by a long shot.

<o:p></o:p>

The very next day, the October 28 Joliet Weekly News fed the flames by publishing a shocking exposé about "John Erickson, the aged Romeoville resident who with his wife were alleged to have had to sleep on the island at Romeo, driven forth into the cold by an unnatural son." The story went on to indicate that "the elder Erickson was a hard-working man, deserving of success, and his sons, though wealthy, denied him financial assistance."<o:p></o:p>

Two weeks later on November 9, the Joliet Weekly News was singing a different tune. This time the headline said this: "Aged Romeo Man Booze Victim – John Erickson's Sons Not Heartless as Reported." <o:p></o:p>

The story went on to say, "The father, it appears, is a victim of drink and had been living in a house belonging to the Romeo saloonkeeper. He had worked a little garden and this, together with his earnings as an occasional worker in the neighborhood, and the efforts of his wife at washing, had supported them. For twenty years, however, the old man's surplus had gone for drink and in the evening of life when [his] earning capacity had been… ruined by alcohol, he became a dependent."

<o:p></o:p>

John Jr. and Karl were exonerated. "The old man's sons were cast adrift at 15 to shift for themselves, never seeing their father except when in liquor… When the old gentleman was without a home, he was taken care of on the farm [of one son] several miles west of Romeo. The farm was so far from the saloons, though, that it was not satisfactory to the old gentleman… The rest of the story is known. He was found on the island with his aged wife and all parties suffered the humiliation that booze had brought, not only to the old man, but to the family." <o:p></o:p>

Two years later at the 1910 census John and Sophia are living in a rented house and he is a "garden laborer." Perhaps the saloonkeeper allowed him to move back into his little house.<o:p></o:p>

John managed to live to the age of eighty, but his luck ran out in November 1918. I wondered if he died in the influenza epidemic—but when I ordered his death certificate, it told a different story. John died of "shock and injuries" resulting from "falling from a wagon." He was buried at Lace Cemetery in Lemont, Illinois, in an unmarked grave.<o:p></o:p>

Susan W. Moseyhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-87911058354681119892015-04-18T06:00:00.000-07:002015-04-18T06:00:00.716-07:00Sibling Saturday: Name That Child
I was digging around in a client's tree last week, and I came across a couple who were very creative in naming their children. When I come across one unusual name it amuses me, but when I come across a handful, that's even better.<o:p></o:p>

John Brittain was born in 1796 in South Carolina. He took Sarah Lindsey as his bride in 1825, when he was twenty-seven and she was just seventeen. Over the next 30 years they had at least twelve children, most of whom lived to adulthood and beyond. Findagrave was a wealth of information on the children and their families, most of whom spent their entire lives in Indiana.<o:p></o:p>

First was William Brittain, born in 1826, named after his paternal grandfather, nothing fancy there. But then things got more creative. <o:p></o:p>

Jamima America Brittainwas born in 1828. She went by "America" so she must not have minded her unusual name. She had nine children, all with quite typical names.<o:p></o:p>

John Columbus Brittain– Named after his father John and Christopher Columbus, perhaps? John named his son born in 1861 "Abraham" and his son born in 1865 "Ulysses," perhaps after the Civil War heroes of the North. (This was Indiana, after all.)<o:p></o:p>

Mary Indiana Brittainwent by "Indiana" all her life—her tombstone even gives that name. So being named after the state of her birth must not have bothered her too much. (I'm glad my parents didn't name me "Illinois"!) Her eight children all had common names.<o:p></o:p>

Virginia Brittain– another state name. Her mother's parents came from Virginia, so perhaps that's the connection. She named one of her sons "Washington," but the other seven children have more typical names.<o:p></o:p>

Marquis (Marion) Lafayette Brittain – I wonder what caused John and Sarah to name their child after this famous French aristocrat and military officer who fought for the United States in the Revolutionary War? Was it because the war hero had died two years earlier, in 1834? At any rate, this Lafayette had eleven children with two wives, and although some of the girls had unusual first names (Phelda, Lola, Orpha), none of the names had political or geographical overtones.<o:p></o:p>

Leah Frances and Sarah Catherine Brittain came next. Both had ordinary names and as far as I could tell, ordinary lives. I think Sarah might have died young, possibly after having daughters named Dora and Flora, but the records aren't clear.

<o:p></o:p>

Theodore Hyson Brittainwas a Civil War veteran. His seven children had fairly typical names. The youngest was a daughter named "Tillie Belle," which I think is very cute.<o:p></o:p>

Sidney Smith Brittainwas married twice. He and his second wife (pictured here) named their sons Simon Sidney, Orville Lee, and Orbra Ivan, and their daughters were named Bessie, Eutha, Lura, and Lenore. Perhaps these were popular children's names in Oklahoma, where they lived.<o:p></o:p>

Taylor Adolphus Brittainhad the dubious distinction of dying of scurvy at a time when that was rare. He was unemployed at age 52 in the 1900 census; perhaps he was already sick.

<o:p></o:p>

Queen Victoria Brittain– What a name! She was born in 1851, at the height of the reign of England's queen (pictured)—before her beloved Prince Albert had died and turned her into a perpetual mourner. Our Victoria had nine children, according to the 1900 census, but only two survived—daughters Artemesia and Estie May. One son was named Algain.

<o:p></o:p>

Lovina Brittain died at age 24, perhaps in childbirth. No children are recorded.<o:p></o:p>

I love finding a collection of names like this, all in one family! What's your favorite name in your family tree?<o:p></o:p>

Susan W. Moseyhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-34136307949399296092015-04-12T06:00:00.000-07:002015-04-12T06:00:00.840-07:00Black Sheep Sunday: The Greedy Priest

Well, now—it seems that my latest client is not the only one with a black sheep in the family! After I posted "Inlaws and Outlaws" recently, blog reader Arlene sent in the story of her great-uncle, a priest who apparently didn't take a vow of poverty.

<o:p></o:p>

Father Peter Gaborski (name changed to protect a certain elderly relative who might have a stroke if she knew about this) was a priest in a Lithuanian Catholic church in Chicago, Illinois. The story opens in 1935, when an elderly man within Father Peter's sphere of influence died. The elderly man lived in a local flophouse—but as it turned out, he was no pauper. He had sixteen bank accounts initially estimated at upwards of $90,000—which in today's dollars would be equal to something like $1.5 million. Later estimates more than doubled that number.<o:p></o:p>

The man had a shady past, and according to a newspaper account (Alton Evening Telegraph, 3-7-1935), "Although he possessed a fortune, the ex-convict, James Thomas Kelly, 62, preferred to live in a west side flophouse at 25 cents a day." The proprietor of the flophouse, a Mrs. Butnam, figured out that her tenant was not the pauper he appeared to be. She moved him from his 25-cent room (a price he had negotiated down from 35 cents) to her own home after she discovered that he was wealthy. She then teamed up with an attorney and several others to draft a phony will. In it, Mrs. Butnam became Mr. Kelly's common-law wife, to whom he left nearly all his considerable worldly goods.

Witnesses were needed—and that's where Father Peter comes into the picture. The article goes on to say that there were two "witnesses" to the phony will—"Peter Gaborski, 48, who described himself as a priest and is a painter by profession, and John Dallyde, 54. The witnesses, police said, confessed participation in the plot, admitting that they signed the purported will after the death of Kelly. They were to receive $100 each for their signatures."

<o:p></o:p>

The undertaker also got in on the action, apparently to make sure his bill (an inflated $4,500 for a $98 coffin) was paid… Altogether six people conspired to relieve Mr. Kelly of his estate. But the forgery must not have been a good one; as the will worked its way through probate court, suspicion of foul play was strong enough that poor Mr. Kelly's body was exhumed! The Decatur Herald (3-9-1935) says that "Dr. Jerome Kearns, who examined the exhumed body, reported that Kelly did not die of cancer as the death certificate stated, but further examination will be necessary to establish the death cause." I'm not sure what came of that—but another article (Decatur Herald, 3-11-1935) said that Mr. Kelly—known in various newspaper headlines as the "Mysterious Miser," the "Wealthy Hobo", and the "Flophouse Midas of Madison Street"—was not the first lodger to die suspiciously under Mrs. Butnam's care, and that toxicology tests were being run to see if Mr. Kelly had poison in his system.<o:p></o:p>

Other beneficiaries included the attorney who drafted the will, who was to receive 6% of the estate, and the undertaker's assistant, who was left 4%. So, let's review: The landlady, the attorney, the undertaker, and the undertaker's assistant, all beneficiaries of this man's will… Imagine that not raising red flags to a probate judge!<o:p></o:p>

The two witnesses were the first to crack and confess to police, and after that, the plot unraveled quickly. By May of 1935, all six were convicted on forgery and conspiracy charges. According to the Valparaiso Vidette-Messenger(5-9-1935), the landlady, the attorney, the undertaker, the undertaker's assistant, and the two witnesses to the phony will each received a sentence of one year in jail.<o:p></o:p>

So here's hoping that Father Peter learned his lesson… I'm guessing he did a lot more painting, and a lot less preaching, after this affair. <o:p></o:p>

Susan W. Moseyhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-7057563042701501302015-03-29T06:00:00.000-07:002015-03-29T15:25:13.064-07:00Black Sheep Sunday: Inlaws and Outlaws
I've been working on a project lately, for my first client from the great state of Alaska. No ancestry binder for this client—it's all being done online—just growin' an online tree. <o:p></o:p>

And I am telling you, this tree is a gold mine! I have never seen a tree so rich with information… His ancestors were in the United States so far back in time, on so many branches of his tree, that researching it is like Ancestry Disneyland! One of my favorite finds has been his Aunt Maggie and Uncle John.<o:p></o:p>

I was tracing a line on his maternal side and came a across a great-great-grandfather who has my favorite name in this tree—Willis Woody Corn. Willis and his wife had a number of children, including Mary Elizabeth, my client's great-grandmother. But Mary Elizabeth had a sister—Maggie—with an interesting story. <o:p></o:p>

Maggie was born May 15, 1885 in Kerrville, Texas, the seventh of ten children of Willis Woody Corn and Susannah Covey Corn. The 1900 census tells us that by the time she was fifteen, the family had moved to Bonito, New Mexico (now under 75 feet of water because of the Bonito Canyon Dam), where her daddy was a farmer.<o:p></o:p>

Somewhere around this time, she met John Franklin Greer. According to a biography by C.W. Barnum on nmahgp.genealogyvillage.com, John had just come from Pecos, Texas, tarrying there after his family moved to New Mexico to close up his father's hardware store. He also kept busy working on his gambling skills—which became his chosen career path.<o:p></o:p>

John left Pecos in a hurry after a gambling dispute led to gunfire. Two angry card players followed him from Texas towards New Mexico Territory, but he ambushed and killed them both along the way. He arrived in Bonito soon afterwards, and began a life of gambling in the boom towns in the area. Somehow he and Maggie met.<o:p></o:p>

Maggie was married to John at the tender age of sixteen, in January 1902. Ten months later she had the first of their six children—four daughters and then two sons over the next eight years. Perhaps life was reasonably quiet for those years, although I wouldn't bet the farm on it.<o:p></o:p>

After some trouble that resulted in a shootout in the spring of 1910, John headed for El Paso, Texas, where he graduated to robbing trains with his brothers and his friend John Gates, who were known as the Greer Gang. He hid out in Mexico for a while (even joining the Mexican Army of Revolution). Eventually he ended up back in New Mexico, where he resumed his career of robbing trains. But when he walked into the jail in Deming where his friend John Gates was being held, stuck a gun Sheriff Dwight Stephens' face, and freed his friend, the end was near. Sheriff Stephens formed a posse and a week later, he cornered the Greer Gang in a steep canyon called Sandy Draw. John walked out and pretended to surrender, then shot both his pistols from the hip, killing two deputies. Moments later he was dead in a hail of gunfire at age 30. The inscription on his grave says "beloved son." Was he also a "beloved husband and father"?

<o:p></o:p>

From what I can see, Maggie didn't remarry for twenty years. Why was that? Was she grieving for her husband? Was she afraid of getting her heart broken again? Or was she just fed up with men? At any rate, in 1932 she and Clyde Lee Thompson were married in Hurley, New Mexico.

<o:p></o:p>

Clyde passed away in 1940. Maggie died in 1945 and is buried next to him at Memory Lane Cemetery in Silver City, New Mexico.<o:p></o:p>

Photos: truewestmagazine.com, stevenloeffler on findagrave, and myra0014 on findagrave.<o:p></o:p>

Susan W. Moseyhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-55541350486964582062015-03-18T06:00:00.000-07:002015-03-18T06:00:08.041-07:00Workday Wednesday: H.E. Bucklen - Medicine Man, Real Estate Tycoon, Baseball Fan

On my other blog (My Amish Indiana), I was researching a Walldogs mural in Shipshewana, Indiana entitled "Shipshewana Indians," and in the process I ended up also writing a piece about a man whose story just had to be told: Herbert Elijah Bucklen Sr. - Medicine Man, Real Estate Tycoon, and Baseball fan. Read his story here.

Susan W. Moseyhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-20194492263843891002015-02-26T06:00:00.000-08:002015-02-26T06:00:01.418-08:00Those Places Thursday: The Farm That Became a Church
Recently I've been doing some research on the Erickson side of my family tree, working with my cousin Gene. We've found some good stories, including a real "black sheep" of a great-great-grandfather who I'll write about soon. But today, the story of my great-grandfather Karl Erickson's farm, and how it became a church.<o:p></o:p>

Karl (a/k/a Charlie) Erickson came to America from Mecklenburg, Germany with his parents, Johann and Caroline, and his brother Johann Jr., when he was nine years old—that would have been 1868. The family settled in Will County, Illinois, where his mother soon died and his father Johann Sr. made a living as a farmer (although not a very good one), and later as a laborer. <o:p></o:p>

Karl and his brother left home (or were turned out of the house, some stories say) to make their way through the world in their mid-teens, and both brothers managed to do so. By the 1880 census, Karl (by then known as Charlie) was a farm laborer on the farm of John Leppert, where a young lady named Lena Schmidt worked as housekeeper. Carl and Lena married later that year and settled down to farm on rented land in Wheatland Township, Will County, Illinois. Eventually they had ten children, nine of whom survived. <o:p></o:p>

Some years later (1903 to be exact) they bought their own farm, 160 acres in Will County which lay on both sides of Boughton Road in what is now Bolingbrook, Illinois. They lived and farmed there until they retired around 1920 and "bought a house in town" (that town being Naperville).<o:p></o:p>

But it's the story of what happened to their Boughton Road farm sixty years later that is my main theme today. <o:p></o:p>

In the 1980s, a young congregation called Independent Baptist Church was looking for a property. They purchased 18 acres of the old Erickson farm on the north side of Boughton Road—and instead of tearing down the 120-year-old barn, they remodeled it into a wonderful "barn church" in 1985, putting nearly 10,000 man-hours of volunteer labor into the remodeling. The pastor of the church, David Shoaf, provided me with these old photos of the barn church—with the silo still standing proud.<o:p></o:p>

about 1985

But the barn church didn't last long... On March 17, 1989 an arsonist burned the building to the ground. Suspicion fell on a land developer who wanted the property to expand one of his projects, but nothing was ever proven.

<o:p></o:p>

Down but not out, the church rallied and built a new colonial-style church building on the site of the old barn. Today they continue to meet and thrive at their church building on the old Erickson farm, 380 West Boughton Road in Bolingbrook.<o:p></o:p>

One further note:<o:p></o:p>

The old farmhouse, built in two sections (the older and plainer section visible on the right side, the newer and fancier section on the left) still stands on the church property. The first photo below shows my great-grandparents, Karl and Lena Erickson, with four of their children, around 1910. The second photo show the house in more modern times, nearly 100 years later—still standing.<o:p></o:p>

Photos courtesy of Pastor David Shoaf and Independent Baptist Church of Bolingbrook, Illinois (www.ibcbolingbrook.org). Old farmhouse photo courtesy of Gene Erickson.
Susan W. Moseyhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-47810516057389689672015-02-24T12:11:00.001-08:002015-02-24T12:12:52.133-08:00A Client TestimonialI got this email from a recent client - it made my day!...

"My husband got the big surprise present on his birthday. He absolutely loves it. You've done such a marvelous job! There is so much information for him to process but each page gives him such thrills! He was impressed with those old records counting each animal they owned, where they lived and how much property they owned, those newspaper articles of mishaps etc. He got a real kick out of the "original" American ancestor having had a brewery. We will surely visit some of those places when we visit the area next time."

A photo I found online for the client's tree

Susan W. Moseyhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-66559651028847597032015-02-15T06:00:00.000-08:002015-02-15T06:00:01.852-08:00Census Sunday: Liz, Arthur, and Amy
My mom once sat down and told me about her mother and father's siblings, and most of it wasn't pretty! I wrote down what she said about each one, and lately, I've been trying to sort out fact from fancy. <o:p></o:p>

My grandfather, Robert Johann Erickson, had five sisters, and one was named Mary Elizabeth (pictured)—but she was always called "Liz." Two of Liz' sisters died of tuberculosis—I've written about them previously. Here is what my mother said about her Aunt Liz:<o:p></o:p>

"Liz had seven children and died in childbirth with the seventh. Their ages ranged from 12, 10, 8, 6, 4, 2, down to the baby. My grandmother (Liz' mother) raised the baby. The father hired a neighbor girl, 18 years old, to be housekeeper, and a year later she married him. They had four children, making 11 in all. He was kind of lazy..."

I'll never know about the "lazy" part, but I wanted to find out more about this great-aunt and uncle that I never met. Besides that, when someone dies young, there's often a story there.

<o:p></o:p>

Mary Elizabeth Erickson was born in 1884, the second of nine surviving children of Charlie and Lena Schmidt Erickson. Liz, as she was called, married Arthur Stafford in March 1901, when she was just sixteen years old. They had their first child, Mabel, a few months later—and more children came along in 1903, 1905, 1906, 1908, 1910, and 1913.
<o:p></o:p>

The 1910 census shows Arthur and Mary living on a farm in Will County, Illinois, next door to Arthur's parents. They had five children by then, and a sixth on the way. But Liz' luck ran out with child number seven… Records on findagrave.com show that baby Earl was born on the 29th of January,1913 and Liz died a week later, on the 6thof February. She was buried at Alexander Cemetery in Romeoville.
<o:p></o:p>

But what was Arthur to do? The census records back up my mother's assertion that the baby was raised by his grandparents. The 1920 census shows young Earl Stafford living with Charlie and Lena Erickson. He was still there for 1930 census, when he was seventeen.
<o:p></o:p>

It is very possible that Arthur brought in a young unmarried neighbor girl to help with the children and the housework—that would have been very common. And when I checked the 1910 census, Arthur and his family live in the same census district in DuPage Township as 12-year-old Amy Shepherd and her parents. By 1913, Amy would have been old enough to be "hired out"—and we know that she was Arthur's wife probably by 1916, when their first child was born.<o:p></o:p>

The 1920 census shows Arthur (age 39) living with new wife Amy (age 23). They already have three young children (the oldest is three), and five of Arthur's children live with them. Arthur's oldest child, Mabel, is only five years younger than her stepmother, and Mabel's occupation is listed as "servant—at home." I can only imagine how dreary poor Mabel's life was. (Later census records show that within the year, young Mabel had 'escaped' her home via marriage—but by the 1930 census, she had five children of her own!)<o:p></o:p>

The 1930 census shows Arthur (50) and Amy (32) living with two of his children and four of theirs. So Arthur did indeed have eleven children.<o:p></o:p>

Arthur outlived his young wife by eleven years. They were buried together at Woodlawn Memorial Park in Joliet.<o:p></o:p>

So, my mom was right about the seven children, the death in childbirth, the baby being raised by grandparents, the young second wife, and the four additional children… But I'll never know about the "lazy" part.<o:p></o:p>

Susan W. Moseyhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-20416982033689665672015-02-03T06:00:00.000-08:002015-02-03T06:00:00.722-08:00Travel Tuesday: The Gypsies

The other day I was looking over some family records, and I came across something my mother said years ago, in an interview with her cousin Gene, who was collecting the Erickson family history. Mom said this about her childhood in the 1930s:

<o:p></o:p>

"Gypsies would come through the area every summer in their horse-drawn wagons during the Barbers Corner years. They would steal the clothes off the clothesline, and steal chickens, turkeys, eggs, vegetables, bicycles, and everything else they could. Everything had to be hidden or watched when the gypsies were passing through. Sometimes they would come to the door and ask for food." <o:p></o:p>

The whole topic of the Gypsies has always intrigued me, ever since I saw the wagons of the "Travellers" when I was in England and Ireland. Could there really have been Gypsies in rural areas of America like Barbers Corner, Illinois in the 1930s?<o:p></o:p>

So I did a little digging… and it turns out there were. <o:p></o:p>

The website LivingHistoryFarm.org says that the Gypsies, more commonly known today as the "Roma," came to the U.S. from Russia and the Balkan countries in the late 1800s. Although their origins were in northwestern India, they were nicknamed "Gypsies" because it was mistakenly believed that they were Egyptians due to their dark skin, hair, and eyes. They were persecuted almost everywhere they went; Hitler hated them like he hated the Jews, and he killed between half a million and a million of them.<o:p></o:p>

The Gypsies were always a roving people (their name, Roma, means "wanderer") and that held true in the United States during the Great Depression. In those days they often traveled in caravans of covered wagons pulled by horses. Elroy Hoffman remembers them from his Nebraska childhood. "They'd park somewhere to feed the horses, eat there along the road… They'd come up to our place to get food." Another Nebraskan, Mildred Opitz, remembers being afraid of them—they dressed differently than the locals, spoke a different language, and looked different. She said the men were often horse traders, and the women made jewelry and baskets to sell or told fortunes. She said they traveled in clans and had brightly painted wooden wagons.<o:p></o:p>

The website DailyNewsOnline.com had a post on April 14, 2013, recalling the days of the Gypsies in western New York State during the Depression. The article says that bands of Gypsies traveled in covered wagons and camped on the outskirts of town each spring from the early 1900s into the 1950s and beyond. (In later years they favored Cadillacs over wagons!) The women would work as healers or fortune tellers. The police would warn local residents to stay away from them, and at times, if the Gypsies fleeced too many locals out of their money, they would either be arrested or told to leave the area.<o:p></o:p>

And are there still ethnic Gypsies (Roma) in America today? The Website EveryCulture.com says that there are probably as few as 100,000 or as many as a million, from several different ethnic subgroups. They came to the United states from Russia or Eastern Europe (the Rom); Great Britain (the Romnichals); Sloviakia (the Baschalde); and Hungary (the Romungre); and another half dozen places in Europe. The article says, "It is uncertain how many Gypsies are in the United States because many Gypsies' entry was undocumented, and others were recorded by their country of origin and not as Gypsies." Also, "Many Roma themselves do not admit to their true ethic origins for economic and social reasons."<o:p></o:p>

Today many of them still travel, but others are settled in northern urban areas like Los Angeles, Chicago, Boston, Atlanta, and Dallas, mostly in trailer parks. Some more conservative groups have settled in rural Texas and Arkansas. They still have a powerful group identity and don't often socialize or intermarry with outsiders. They have their own language, cuisine, clothing, marriage customs, music, and traditions about health, religion, and family dynamics. Today they are often used car dealers and repairmen or sell watches and jewelry—along with the traditional trade of fortune-telling, which is alive and well. <o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

Image: Andrew Rowland via 123rf.com <o:p></o:p>

Susan W. Moseyhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-92177112379602220542015-01-25T06:00:00.000-08:002015-02-02T16:02:00.119-08:00Black Sheep Sunday: Remembering Bruce

Lately I've been thinking about my only brother, Bruce. He would have been 57 this week, had he not died of alcohol-related heart failure thirteen years ago.<o:p></o:p>

Bruce and our sister and I grew up in a typical middle-class home of the 1950s and 1960s. But Bruce was especially gifted in many ways. He was big and strong from the time he was very young—75 pounds of brawn by the time he started first grade! The first college football scout to notice him said to my father, when Bruce was just five, "If your boy plays football, I'd love to see that kid when he's eighteen."<o:p></o:p>

And Bruce was athletic. As he grew older, he excelled in every sport he tried—baseball, basketball, track and field… But when it came time to choose one sport, it was football. By his senior year in high school, he was a star.

Bruce was also very smart. And good-looking. And he lived in a stable Christian home, where college was a 'given' and the money was there to make it happen. But he fell in with a wild crowd, where drinking and smoking and drugs were the norm, and he was the leader of the pack. Bruce was also what would have been called "high strung"—and I think he inherited the tendency towards depression that runs in the males of our family. And like many before him, substance abuse was his form of self-medicating. At least, that's what my sister and I theorized in long, late-night conversations, years later, on the topic of "what on earth happened to Bruce?"

So he grew up, married, had two daughters… He somehow finished college (with honors), but drifted from job to job. His marriage fell apart. He tried to raise his two daughters, but their grandparents did most of the heavy lifting, while Bruce drifted along in a fog… But as the years went by, the fog was much preferable to the loud, obnoxious, domineering, hot-tempered person he was when he was sober. All of us spent less and less time with him. Towards the end, I felt his hatred enough that I often felt unsafe, and looked over my shoulder when I walked from my garage to my back door. (Later, after his death, more than one relative told me that my fears for my life were not unfounded.)

So the week of his funeral, we cried. Not because we would miss him—but because our hearts broke for his wasted potential… for the two daughters he had failed in many ways… for what he could have been.

<o:p></o:p>

And the years went by—his grave unmarked and his life mostly unmourned. Thinking about him, remembering him, was painful... <o:p></o:p>

But lately, I've begun to remember the boy I grew up with. I recall the little guy who had a bit of a temper even then… If any of us aggravated him to the point of retaliation, he would use the worst bad word he knew—he would call the offender (get ready for it) a "poo poo pie."<o:p></o:p>

I remember the little brother who, big and strong as he was, was never a bully—but rather, always stood up for the weak. One time when he was about twelve, he was sent to the principal's office for fighting, and our dad was called. It turned out that one of the other boys in his class had a mother who regularly had "nervous breakdowns" and spent time in the local mental hospital. The other boys were making fun of the kid on the playground, and Bruce stepped in to make sure that didn't happen any more.

<o:p></o:p>

When he was in eighth grade, I came home after school one day and Bruce was in bed—his face beaten to a pulp, almost unrecognizable. It turned out some gangbanger-wannabes were hassling a girl at his school. He faced them down and told them to leave her alone. A few moments later they jumped him from behind and knocked him down and out… But I don't think he ever had regrets for standing up for the helpless, no matter what the cost.<o:p></o:p>

I remember the outstanding scholar he was. Schoolwork was nearly effortless for him. (I'm pretty sure he had a photographic memory like our father did, and like one of his daughters.) His seventh grade math teacher put it well, in a parent-teacher conference: "It really bugs me that I have to give Bruce A's, when I know perfectly well that he does his homework leaned up against a locker five minutes before class!"

Everyone remembers the outstanding athlete he was. The week he died, we got a note from Neal Ormond, who announced the West Aurora football games on the radio during the years Bruce played (three years of varsity). Twenty-five years later, Mr. Ormond still remembered his pleasure in announcing Bruce's plays on the field.

<o:p></o:p>

I was away at college all three years that Bruce played varsity football, and I'd never seen him play. So for his last game, the great crosstown rivalry of East Aurora vs. West Aurora in the fall of 1975, I flew home in a small chartered plane to see him play—and it was worth it. West Aurora had lost every single game of Bruce's senior year, in spite of his heroic efforts every Friday night. But that night, Bruce ran the only touchdown of the game into the end zone—and then scored the extra points. West Aurora won, 8 to 3.

Bruce never played college football—he was too troubled by then, and burned out, and he became a father not long after high school. But oh, the memories!… Our dad kept a scrapbook of it all.

<o:p></o:p>

So now I choose to remember not the rude, abrasive, menacing alcoholic of the later years—but the boy I grew up with. The person he could have been. The person God meant for him to be. I think it's time I had a grave marker made for my little brother—he deserves that. Bruce, I hope you found peace. I think I finally have.<o:p></o:p>

Susan W. Moseyhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-66148662021202851512015-01-16T06:00:00.000-08:002015-01-16T06:00:00.817-08:00Friday Funny: Stories About Grandpa

The other day I rediscovered some stories about my grandpa, Sture Nels Wallin, that my father wrote down many years ago. I don't remember much about Grandpa Wallin; he mostly watched baseball with my dad when we visited them. So it's nice to get to know him better through these stories, written down by his oldest son...

<o:p></o:p>

"Dad got a job as a hired hand when he was young, and was considered a very good one. He was not big—about 5'8" and 160 pounds—but he was very strong and a great athlete.<o:p></o:p>

The youthful pranks of his day were funnier and less destructive than now. Once he and a friend named Freeman Larson made a big batch of pancake batter and fried several about half an inch thick and the size of the frying pan. They used them with frosting to make a layer cake and sneaked it into the kitchen of the church party. They found a vantage point to watch as a lady cut the cake, looked puzzled, tasted it, and called a friend over. More women gathered, and he said the ladies ate almost the whole cake as each of them tasted it and tried to find out who had brought it.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p>
</o:p>

(Pictured: Jack Phelps, Carl Peterson, Sture Wallin)

Sara Elizabeth Peterson (his future wife) came to Hordeville to work in the bank, which is how they came to meet at a church social. Must have been love at first sight, as on the way home Mom asked a girlfriend, "Who was that smart-aleck with Agdie Samuelson?" <o:p></o:p>

Once when we were small one of us asked Dad if Mom could run fast when she was young. "I'll say she could," Dad answered. "I chased her for seven years before I caught her." Much of this was caused by WWI, as Dad enlisted the day after war was declared in 1917 and did not get back from Europe until late 1919.<o:p></o:p>

In the summer of 1942 the hired man and I were struggling to load 100-pound sacks of fertilizer into a box wagon whose top was about 6 feet above the ground. Dad came over, picked a bag off the ground with one hand, and in one motion one-armed it straight over his head and handed it to Butch, who was in the wagon. He would have been 49 years old at that time. He walked away without a word, and we quit griping.<o:p></o:p>

Dad really abhorred pettiness and tiny revenges for fancied wrongs. On the other hand, he took no abuse. Once in 1913 when the railroad was being built, he took exception to a remark some lout on the crew made as he was escorting Mom past the drug store. He took her to her rooming house, came back and decked the guy—rendering him unconscious and knocking out some teeth in the process. The next day the sheriff phoned and said he had a warrant for him and he could save some fees if he went to the courthouse in Aurora without being fetched—so he did. The judge heard all the testimony and arrived at his decision: "Guilty. That will be a dollar and costs, and there won't be any costs." <o:p></o:p>

Grandpa, I feel like I know you a little better now!<o:p></o:p>

Susan W. Moseyhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-11858589953951876882015-01-04T06:00:00.000-08:002015-01-04T06:00:00.394-08:00Black Sheep Sunday: Philip Wyatt and His Three ElizabethsMy sister-in-law Susie has some interesting ancestors. I've written about two of them before—sisters Anna Grimm Wyatt and Eva Grimm Wyatt. Going back further in time, I discovered Philip Paul Wyatt—Susie's great-great grandfather—who had three wives named Elizabeth, and seems to have been something of a wanderer.

<o:p></o:p>

Philip was born in Somerset, England, in 1821. His father was a successful farmer who had eight children with his first wife, Susanna: James (we'll get back to him later), our boy Philip, Mary, Susanna, William, Joan, Rhoda (who kept a diary that survived), and Elizabeth. <o:p></o:p>

Philip was first married in England in 1844, to Elizabeth Quick. The marriage record lists him as a "bachelor" and her as a "spinster"—in other words, first marriage for both. Philip was a butcher by trade. Soon they had a son named Mark John Quick Wyatt, born in 1845. <o:p></o:p>

Philip and his first Elizabeth were separated by 1848, and Philip was on his way to America. What caused Philip to abandon his family—or did Elizabeth flee her husband? Or perhaps she didn't want to go to America? In the 1851 English census, Elizabeth and her five-year-old son are living as lodgers in someone else's home. Her son Mark later emigrated to Australia, where his descendants can still be found. (I've corresponded with one.)

<o:p></o:p>

Anyway, in July 1848 Philip's name is found on a ship passenger list, arriving in New York City on the ship "Robert Peel." On the same ship, listed right after Philip, are George and Elizabeth Towils and their young son John—the same Elizabeth who would become Philip's second wife. <o:p></o:p>

Philip and Elizabeth Rockett Towils were married two years later, in 1850. (I wonder if Philip had a legal divorce from his first wife?) They had four sons in the 1850s—Edward, Albert, Walter, and Adolphus—and also raised Betsy's son John.

<o:p></o:p>

The family didn't stay in one place for long… In the 1850 census their residence is Albion, New York, where Philip worked as a butcher. By 1860 they lived in Terre Haute, Indiana with their sons—but seven-year-old Albert was born in Kentucky, so they most likely lived there after they left New York but before they came to Indiana, where their younger sons were born.<o:p></o:p>

They didn't tarry long in Indiana. The 1866 Oshkosh City Directory lists Philip as a butcher on Ferry Street. The 1868 Oshkosh directory lists him, surprisingly, as a "hop grower." What happened to the butcher shop?<o:p></o:p>

In 1870 the family appears in the census records twice! In January they were enumerated with all five sons in St. Joseph, Missouri—a popular layover point for those planning to head west in the spring. Then in August they were enumerated in San Jose, California. Philip is now a "brewer" and their oldest two boys are farm laborers. (Stepson John had struck out on his own by then.)<o:p></o:p>

But they must not have stayed long in California. An 1875 newspaper ad which ran in the Terre Haute "Saturday Evening Mail" said this: "For the finest roasts—the tenderest steaks—the juiciest chops—the nicest cutlets—the best breakfast bacon—the choicest meat of all kinds, go to Phil Wyatt, the well known English Butcher, who makes a specialty of this business."<o:p></o:p>

Philip's second wife Elizabeth died in Indiana in 1877, of "chronic inflammation of the stomach," according to her obituary, after being quite ill for three years. Her obituary also contains this startling information: "In accordance with the English custom Mrs. Wyatt requested that her body be kept for some time. Her mother's corpse was not interred until 16 days after death." The obit also says, "During all of her terrible sickness, Mrs. Wyatt displayed rare womanly fortitude." (Apparently fortitude was rare in women at that time.)

Philip soon moved on to Chicago. In the 1880 census he is a widower aged sixty who lives with his son Albert and family (as do Philip's other three sons). Ten people in a Chicago apartment—it must have been tight quarters! Philip is a butcher, and all four of his sons work in a butcher shop.

<o:p></o:p>

Philip didn't remain a widower for long. His brother James, an attorney back in Somerset, England, had a fiancé there—a wealthy spinster named Elizabeth Paull. By 1881 Philip was living back in Somerset and he married his brother's sweetheart there—making her Philip's third Elizabeth. On the marriage record, Philip states that he is a "cattle seller."<o:p></o:p>

Somehow, Philip ended up separated from this third Elizabeth, back in America, and living in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, perhaps to be closer to his sisters. Philip died of "brain paralysis" in 1892 in Oshkosh. His obituary in the Oshkosh "Daily Northwestern" says that he "ran a meat market on Main Street for some time but subsequently sold it." There must have been bad blood between Elizabeth the Third and Philip's four sons, because there were legal squabbles over land and property that went on at least through 1895.

<o:p></o:p>

So let's summarize: Philip lived in England, New York, Kentucky, Indiana, Wisconsin, Missouri, California, Indiana, Chicago, England, and Wisconsin… that I know of.

English author Patricia Wendorf wrote a historical novel entitled "Double Wedding Ring" about Philip's sister, Rhoda, based on Rhoda's diaries. The author changed the last name of the family to Graypaull, but kept the first names of all of the Wyatt siblings—except for Philip, whom she renamed "Mark" in her book. Rhoda's diary had much to say about her brother's money problems and irresponsible, wandering ways. Perhaps the author was afraid of Philip's offended descendants sending hate mail… But what fun is a family without a few black sheep in it?

<o:p></o:p>
Susan W. Moseyhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-33928012809445346062014-12-21T06:00:00.000-08:002014-12-21T06:00:00.425-08:00Sentimental Sunday: A Very Special Wedding
Not all family history is ancient history. Once in a while an event takes place that makes me think, "This story should be told. This story should be written down and remembered." One such story in our family is that of Frank and Nancy's wedding.<o:p></o:p>

Shortly after my mid-life wedding in 2007, my sister met a man named Frank. Both had been previously married (and had their hearts broken). It was true love, and they got engaged in 2008. <o:p></o:p>

Nancy had been living in California for decades by then and had deep roots there, as did Frank. But as they planned their wedding, she was continually saddened by the thought that our bedridden mother would not be able to attend. <o:p></o:p>

Mom lived in Illinois, as I do. She had missed my wedding the previous year, being too frail to attend (as well as being legally blind and nearly deaf). When I got married in 2007, I went over to her house in my wedding dress, along with Nancy in her maid-of-honor dress. "Mom, I'm getting married today!" I told her. Her face lit up with a smile as she touched the fabric of my dress. I wasn't sure if she would remember that day, but I wanted to give her what I could.<o:p></o:p>

As Nancy sadly planned her motherless wedding, it was Frank who came up with the idea. He said to his beloved that if her mother couldn't come to the wedding—they would move the wedding to her mother. Mom lived in a large, bright room with our sister-in-law Susie by this time. When presented with the idea of hosting the wedding, Susie said that she would be delighted.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>And so it was… On December 26, 2008, we all gathered in Mom's large room at Susie's house. The room had been festooned with lots of white netting, white lights, and white candles. There were about 20 chairs set up at one end of the room. At the other end, next to the fireplace, there was a ivy-covered arch. And just a few steps away was my mother, tucked in under an afghan in her special chair, which was turned towards the arch for the ceremony. She was wearing a wrist corsage of red roses that matched her daughter's wedding bouquet.

<o:p></o:p>

Five of Frank and Nancy's six children were able to attend. Rather than a best man and maid of honor, the five children stood on each side of the couple as they were wed. My friend Karen, an ordained minister, officiated the ceremony, and our niece Sarah and her husband Russ read the scripture. It was beautiful and magical and just perfect.<o:p></o:p>

This may not be an old story, but it's a story that should be remembered and passed down in the family... my family. Well done, Frank and Nancy—and happy sixth anniversary!

<o:p></o:p>

Susan W. Moseyhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-16343794161859869962014-12-08T06:00:00.000-08:002014-12-08T06:00:02.005-08:00Military Monday: A Young Soldier's "Personal Affairs"

After my father's death in 1993, my sister and I sat on the floor of the living room one evening, going through boxes and drawers of his military papers, deciding what to keep. We found a booklet entitled "Personal Affairs of Military Personnel and Dependents"—this is the front cover. There are some notes in my father's handwriting, which read as follows:

<o:p></o:p>

"Note: In [the] event of my untimely demise, Be sure to collect these 4:<o:p></o:p>

1. Insurance,<o:p></o:p>

2. 6 months gratuity ($900) lump sum;<o:p></o:p>

3. My back accrued pay. (2. and 3. Not automatic—action must be initiated by you. See inside of book for details.)<o:p></o:p>

4. Grab my money out of the bank (using enclosed power of attorney) before they freeze it. The enclosed Power of Attorney lasts no longer than I do, but if you get it out before they know I'm gone, it will save trouble. Otherwise file my will and they will come across.<o:p></o:p>

This book will answer a lot of questions."<o:p></o:p>

I guess this is consistent with the fact that Dad was a business major in college before the war! <o:p></o:p>

The booklet had three pages of information about his final wishes and was meant to be left with his next of kin—in his case, his mother. In my imagination I am picturing a roomful of recruits, headed for overseas, sitting at tables and filling in this booklet, thinking about their own deaths possibly for the first time, as it sunk in that yes, they were headed for the front lines of what we now call World War Two and might never return.<o:p></o:p>

Page 1 gives basic information, including that he is 21 years old. He carries $10,000 of life insurance, payable to his mother Sara, with his father as Contingent Beneficiary. (That's the equivalent of about $133,000 today.) This optional insurance cost him $6.50 a month out of his pay—but his parents were not well off financially, and that money would have meant a lot to them—a chance to buy their own farm instead of renting, for example. <o:p></o:p>

From his army pay of $150 per month (about $2,000 today), he had $50 a month sent to his bank at home, and another $18.75 taken out to buy War Bonds. The booklet said, "If I am reported missing, missing in action, interned in a neutral country, or captured or besieged by enemy forces, the allotments out of my pay for insurance and support of my relatives will be paid by the government for 12 months."<o:p></o:p>

Page 1 of the form goes on to say that Dad had executed a will and Power of Attorney and mailed them to his father in Big Rock, Illinois.<o:p></o:p>

Page 2 has blanks to fill in where he might have a Safe Deposit Box, where he left personal papers, and what debts he owed (none). Then it says, "If I die in the line of duty, from wounds, or illness, or other causes, I have designated [here he filled in his mother's name] as a dependent to receive the six months' gratuity pay awarded by the government." Dad hand-write off to the side, "$900." It then had a place for the soldier to list where they had bank accounts. <o:p></o:p>

Page 3 gets even more "real." It says, "I desire that my permanent place of burial be at ________." (Dad wrote in, "No Preference.") It goes on to say, "If I die abroad, my remains will be returned to the United States by the Government after the War, but not earlier." It goes on to give other instructions to the family as to how to retrieve the body and receive funds for burial expenses and a possible pension. Copies of any marriage records and birth certificates of children are then asked for.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p>
</o:p>

In the photo, taken at his parents' new home in Big Rock, Illinois before he went overseas, Dad (far right) is posing with his father, little brother Richard, little sister Janet, and mother. Perhaps his sister Helen is the one taking the picture. He was just twenty years old when he was drafted—barely out of his teens—but forced to think about "the event of his untimely demise."

<o:p></o:p>

Susan W. Moseyhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-29129220163870162422014-12-01T06:00:00.000-08:002014-12-01T06:00:01.299-08:00Military Monday: Forgiveness and Friendship
I have written quite a bit about my father and his service in the U.S. Army in World War II. This story took place a few years later.<o:p></o:p>

After the war, my father was required to be in the U.S. Army Reserves for a number of years, and go to training camp for a few weeks in the summer. In fact, he once told me that he very nearly ended up in the Korean War—but his card didn't get chosen during the random drawing of one in three cards in the file. <o:p></o:p>

In the late 1940s he met my mother, Adra, and they were married in 1950. They moved into an apartment at 620 Archer Avenue in Aurora—the downstairs of an old white frame house which has since been torn down. (The first photo shows Robert and Adra on the front porch.) Both had jobs within walking distance—Dad at a steel storage company called Equipto, and Mom at another steel storage company down the street called All-Steel.

Into the upstairs apartment moved a young married couple very much like themselves—but yet so different. Hartwig and Frieda were recent immigrants; they had arrived in the U.S. from Austria in 1952. The 1930s had been a bad time to be a young man in Austria. Hartwig, being five years younger than my father and therefore too young to be drafted into Hitler's Army, ended up in an organization called the Hitler Youth. He would have been 15 years old when Hitler invaded Poland in 1939.

<o:p></o:p>

I wanted to find out more about being a young person in Nazi Germany and Austria. I found this quote from Adolf Hitler on the History Learning Site. He said this of German schoolchildren: "The weak must be chiselled away. I want young men and women who can suffer pain. A young German must be as swift as a greyhound, as tough as leather, and as hard as Krupp's steel."<o:p></o:p>

The U.S. Holocaust Museum website had this quote: <o:p></o:p>

"These boys and girls enter our organizations at ten years of age, and often for the first time get a little fresh air; after four years of the Young Folk they go on to the Hitler Youth, where we have them for another four years… And even if they are still not complete National Socialists [Nazis], they go to Labor Service and are smoothed out there for another six, seven months… And whatever class consciousness or social status might still be left… the Wehrmacht [German armed forces] will take care of that."—Adolf Hitler (1938)<o:p></o:p>

But back to my story: Hartwig and Frieda moved into the apartment above my parents. This would have been in the early 1950s. Even in my childhood in the 1960s, my father still referred to the Germans as "Krauts"—an old habit that died hard, after spending a year of his life on the front lines shooting Germans at every opportunity and in nearly continual fear for his life. Dad continued to have nightmares about the war for twenty years after he came home.<o:p></o:p>

But somehow, the two couples ended up friends. I wonder if they ever talked about the war, or Hitler, or what it was like in Austria in the 1940s? I don't know. I do know that Hartwig worked as a night watchman in a nearby factory, while he taught himself English and studied engineering books. Eventually he got a better job there as a spot welder, then a maintenance electrician, then a mechanic, and then an engineer. He and Frieda had four children and had a good life in America.<o:p></o:p>

But more importantly to this story—Hartwig and Frieda wanted to put their past behind them and become American citizens. To do that, they needed American citizens to be their sponsors. And who were the sponsors for Hartwig and Frieda? My parents.<o:p></o:p>

I remember, even after each couple purchased their own home in the later 1950s, my father and I dropping by their home or Hartwig dropping by ours. I am so very glad that those two young couples, in their own small way, were a part of the healing, friendship, and forgiveness that needed to take place after one of the worst wars in modern history. <o:p></o:p>

Susan W. Moseyhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-46986188653536798912014-11-26T09:28:00.004-08:002014-11-26T09:28:57.634-08:00Remembering NormanIt was on the day before Thanksgiving in 2008 that something happened that, a few years later, inspired my very first blog post... Read about it here -

"For the Love of Norman."

Susan W. Moseyhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-19038213348220777582014-11-20T06:00:00.000-08:002014-11-20T06:00:01.519-08:00Thankful Thursday: Year Two

I realized the other day that I've been writing down and posting my genealogy stories for two years now. It prompted me to recall my favorites from year two…<o:p></o:p>

Some stories caused me to learn new things…<o:p></o:p>

» In Ezra Alger, I learned more about the Civil War's infamous Andersonville Prison, while doing research for a friend of my husband's.<o:p></o:p>

» Writing Typhoid Fever and Tuberculosiscaused me to learn more about two diseases that carried away many of your ancestors and mine, even into the 1900s.<o:p></o:p>

Some stories were about the Amish research I've done for friends and clients in Indiana…<o:p></o:p>

» Jonas Stutzman, Amish Eccentric was about a very "colorful" character who was also a significant figure in the history of the Amish in the United States—"White Jonas," the first Amish settler in Holmes County, Ohio.<o:p></o:p>

» An Amish Tragedy told the story of Jacob Lambright, an ancestor of many present-day Northern Indiana Amish, who met a tragic end.<o:p></o:p>

Some stories were about my own family...<o:p></o:p>

» Otto & Elsie told the story of one of my aunts and how she came to be raised by relatives.<o:p></o:p>

» Josephine Carriveau was about my favorite branch of my husband's family—the Carriveaus. The stories just keep on coming from that branch of the family! Josephine was my husband's great-aunt—his grandmother's older sister.<o:p></o:p>

» A Civil War Widow Applies for a Pensionwas about my husband's Alwood great-great-grandparents, what I learned about them from his Civil War Pension file, and how I came to love fold3.com again.<o:p></o:p>

» Hazel's Quilt told the story of a quilt that I have the privilege to own, handed down to me from my mother-in-law, who told me its story when I visited her recently at her nursing home.<o:p></o:p>

Some stories were especially close to my own heart…<o:p></o:p>

» The Telegram was one of my numerous stories about my father's World War II experiences—this one about the injury that almost killed him and how his mother first found out about it.<o:p></o:p>

» West View Farm was about a place very dear to me in childhood—my Grandpa and Grandma Erickson's Illinois farm, and the shocking change I encountered the last time I visited it.<o:p></o:p>

"Remember me in the family tree
My name, my days, my strife;
Then I'll ride upon the wings of time
And live an endless life."<o:p></o:p>

—Linda Goetsch<o:p></o:p>

Susan W. Moseyhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-36834916825810955922014-11-10T06:00:00.000-08:002014-11-10T06:00:00.983-08:00Military Monday: The Fire

This photograph shows one of the papers from my father's WWII military file. I include it here not because of its great importance in the story of his military career—but rather, for the burn marks around the edges. Anyone who has done (or tried to do) research on a WWI or WWII military ancestor may know where those burn marks came from.

<o:p></o:p>

My father, Robert Wallin, told me many stories about his time in WWII, and I have his letters home to tell me more. Like countless aging baby boomers with fathers who fought in the war, I wish I had asked him so much more—and written it all down or recorded it. So a few years back, I decided to order his military records from the National Archives.<o:p></o:p>

My father was in the Army, so his records are found at the National Personnel Records Center (NPRC) in St. Louis, Missouri. (Navy records are stored elsewhere.) Unfortunately, the NPRC had a catastrophic fire on July 12, 1973. The National Archives website says that 80% of the records were destroyed for Army personnel discharged between 1912 and 1960. That covers World War One, World War Two, and the Korean War—what an extensive and devastating loss! (Many Air Force records were also destroyed.) No duplicates, microfilm, or other backups were kept. And since there were no indexes, there isn't even a good listing of what was lost.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>I found out more on the Stars and Stripes website. The fire started on the sixth floor of the building in the middle of the night; no cause was ever determined. It burned out of control for 22 hours as 43 fire departments battled it. It took 4½ days and millions of gallons of water before the fire department declared the fire extinguished. The sixth floor was destroyed, and the records on the floors below were soaked with water. The records of 18 million veterans were lost.

About 6.5 million partially burned, water-soaked personnel files were salvaged. Over forty years later, preservation specialists are still working on restoring them. It takes the equivalent of 30 full-time employees to respond to the requests of those, like me, who are looking for records from the damaged collection. Of the 5,000 requests per day that the NPRC receives, they estimate that about 200-300 are for those damaged records. Those requests go to the specialists at the Paper Treatment Lab, who call the burned records the "B-Files." <o:p></o:p>

After the fire, the B-Files were taken to the vacuum-drying chamber at the nearby McDonnell-Douglas aircraft facilities. The vacuum chamber, which was built to train Mercury and Gemini space program astronauts, was now put into service in taking 8 tons of water out of each 2,000 milk-crate-sized containers of wet documents which the chamber could handle per drying session. The files were then indexed and stored, to be handled again only if a document request is received.<o:p></o:p>

I was fortunate that my father's military and medical records (which were extensive) survived the fire—although barely, as the photo shows. Some had burn marks and some had water damage stains, but at least I received the file. The records for my grandfather, Sture Wallin, who served in World War One, are entirely gone, so I was told in a letter from the NPRC. To my knowledge, no one in the family recorded any details whatsoever of Grandpa Wallin's service, and no papers have survived. Gone forever.<o:p></o:p>

The MissouriNet website says that, incredibly, the NPRC continued to use the old building until 2012! The NPRC "now has a new state-of-the-art building with some serious ways to prevent a fire from destroying national records." Thank goodness for that.<o:p></o:p>

NPRC building photo: National Archives<o:p></o:p>

Susan W. Moseyhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-40781956159032638842014-11-03T06:37:00.000-08:002014-11-03T16:49:40.470-08:00Military Monday: A Dad and a Hero

This paper from my father's military file tells the story of something he did in March 1945. (I will tell the story of the burn marks on his records in another post.)<o:p></o:p>

The paper reads as follows:<o:p></o:p>

"First Lieutenant Robert M. Wallin, 0538229, 120th Infantry Regiment, United States Army, is awarded the Bronze Star for heroic achievement in action on 26 March 1945, in Germany. Although enemy fire was so intense that it killed one man and wounded eight others, Lieutenant Wallin and his comrades left their sheltered positions and exposed themselves to enemy fire to evacuate three of the men to the rear where they received medical attention. By his heroic action, Lieutenant Wallin aided in saving the lives of his comrades. <o:p></o:p>

[Entered military service from Illinois.]<o:p></o:p>

L.S. Hobbs, Major General – U.S. Army Commanding"<o:p></o:p>

The amazing thing is this: Dad had just spent five months in a military hospital recovering from serious injuries sustained on the front lines the previous October. So it's certainly not like he thought he was invincible… And how could he? He had seen more horror and death by this time than anyone should have to see—stories he told me late at night when I was growing up… Stories of comrades dying in ways I can only hope their families never knew. Dad's very first day in combat, his closest friend in the unit was blown up and dismembered, and Dad had to gather the pieces and lay them with the man's dog tags.<o:p></o:p>

According to my father, stories like what happened the day he got the Bronze Star weren't that rare. What was rare was having a superior officer see or find out what happened, and then take the time to write it up. Just from the few stories Dad told me late at night, I know of at least two other times where he was in this much danger.<o:p></o:p>

One of them was a situation similar to this one. Dad (a platoon leader) told me that one of his men was badly wounded during a battle. Dad crawled across a field to the man, and realized right away that if he had run across the field standing up, he probably wouldn't have lived to tell the story. He had a struggle of conscience as to what to do… The man had both a broken arm and a broken leg, so he would have to be carried back across the field, through enemy fire—and it looked like the man outweighed Dad by fifty pounds.<o:p></o:p>

Dad asked the man, "Do you have a family?" and the man answered, "Yeah, a wife and three kids." Dad told me he remembered saying to himself something like, "Oh, crap!"—knowing what it was he thought he should do, but not wanting to do it. But he hoisted the man onto his shoulders and staggered back across the field. Both of them made it back alive.<o:p></o:p>

In the case of the Bronze Star story, it was Dad and several comrades who evacuated three men. We've all heard the motto of "no man left behind," but it's still incredible that young soldiers can summon up such courage in the face of such danger. <o:p></o:p>

If my father and his comrades hadn't made it back to their "sheltered positions" alive that day, I wouldn't be here today. But because they did, three other men went home to quite possibly have children of their own as well—perhaps even someone who is reading this story today. <o:p></o:p>

Susan W. Moseyhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-78719805092139678902014-10-29T06:00:00.000-07:002014-10-29T06:00:01.942-07:00Skeletons in the Closet, Revisited

The other day I was thinking about a client for whom I did two ancestry binders in the last couple of years… I discovered something in her family tree that no one looks forward to finding—slave owners. It reminded me of other skeletons I've found in people's closets (including my own)—which brought to mind a post I did last fall on the topic.<o:p></o:p>

Follow this link to see the post.
Susan W. Moseyhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484454365559045726.post-39799489766788595832014-10-16T06:00:00.000-07:002014-10-16T06:00:01.731-07:00Treasure Chest Thursday: Hazel's Quilt

When Hazel Garver made this quilt in the 1940s, she couldn't have known that one of her descendants would be writing about it 70 years later. For Hazel, it was just another household task—but for me, it's a piece of art and a treasure.

<o:p></o:p>

Several years ago my mother-in-law, Donna, gave me this very special quilt, and when we visited Donna recently in Jenison, Michigan, I took the opportunity to find out more about it.<o:p></o:p>

Donna's mother, Hazel Alwood Garver (shown here with husband Walter), raised fourteen children in a tiny farmhouse in Clare County, Michigan. (I have written about Hazel and her family before.) Hazel made quilts out of necessity, as a way to keep her children warm in the beds they shared. But she also put thought into her designs, Donna told me; the fabric choices weren't just random. The quilt tops were made from pieces of old clothing that were too worn out to be handed down one more time. The backing was a piece of cotton or flannel—pink in this case. The batting layer in the middle (added for warmth) was usually an old, worn blanket.

<o:p></o:p>

Donna remembered some of the pieces in this quilt, which she guessed that her mother made in the 1940s. A blue plaid piece came from an apron belonging to Hazel. Another plaid piece of red and gray came from one of Hazel's dresses. Donna said that her mother would share and exchange fabric scraps with her friends and neighbors, so they all would have a nicer variety to work with. The other women, especially her good friend Lois Denno, were generous in sharing their scraps with Hazel, knowing she had fourteen children to keep warm. <o:p></o:p>

Hazel would have sewn the pieces together using her Singer treadle sewing machine; there was no electricity in the farmhouse. The three layers would then be layered together, and the underneath layer was turned up around the edges onto the top layer and machine-stitched in place all around. After that, the ties (which can be seen in the close-up photographs) were added, to keep the layers in place. Donna said that the children would help with that part.

<o:p></o:p>

Some women had a full quilt-sized wooden frame in which to stretch the three layers, but not Hazel; there wasn't room for a big frame in their tiny home. Hazel had a smaller frame that rolled up the quilt like a scroll, with one long strip exposed at a time so that it could be hand-tied. After the knots were in place all over the quilt, all the ends were cut to a uniform length.<o:p></o:p>

I asked Donna if her mother would work on the quilts in the evening after her children were in bed. She said that wasn't possible, because the kerosene lamps weren't bright enough. Hazel had to work on her quilts while the children were in school. As soon as one quilt came off the rack, another one was started—there was always a need. <o:p></o:p>

I wondered if Hazel kept making quilts even after her children were grown. Donna told me that wasn't the case—in fact, the quilt I was holding was the last one Hazel ever made. Hazel had a stroke one day in her friends the Dennos' orchard, and one arm and hand were never strong again. She slowed down after that, and wasn't able to sew very much.<o:p></o:p>

I promised Donna I would take good care of her mother's quilt. I am glad to own a piece of Garver history and to know a little more about the woman who created it.<o:p></o:p>

Susan W. Moseyhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com


text:
Book your room at La Quinta Inn & Suites Plattsburgh
Room, 1 King Bed, MicrowaveMax Occupancy: 3 guests (up to 2 children, 2 infants)
Standard Room, 2 Double BedsMax Occupancy: 4 guests (up to 3 children, 3 infants)
Deluxe Two Double BedsMax Occupancy: 4 guests (up to 3 children, 3 infants)
Executive Room, 1 King Bed with Sofabed, Refrigerator & MicrowaveMax Occupancy: 4 guests (up to 3 children, 3 infants)
Get an overview of this hotelHotel in Plattsburgh with free breakfast and indoor pool
Situated in Plattsburgh, this hotel is 0.3 mi (0.5 km) from Champlain Centre and within 3 mi (5 km) of State University of New York-Plattsburgh and Kent Delord House Museum. Champlain Valley Transportation Museum and Battle of Plattsburgh Center and War of 1812 Museum are also within 6 mi (10 km).
Hotel Features
Along with an indoor pool, this hotel has a fitness center and a spa tub. Free continental breakfast, free WiFi in public areas, and free self parking are also provided. Additionally, laundry facilities, a 24-hour front desk, and express check-out are onsite.
Room Amenities
All 103 rooms offer free WiFi, pillowtop beds, and flat-screen TVs with cable channels. Guests will also find coffee makers, free local calls, and hair dryers.Information missing or incorrect? Tell us!
Hotel Amenities
Hotel Amenities
In addition to an indoor pool, La Quinta Inn & Suites Plattsburgh provides a spa tub and a fitness center. Public areas are equipped with complimentary high-speed wired and wireless Internet access. A complimentary breakfast is offered each morning. This Plattsburgh hotel also offers complimentary newspapers in the lobby, laundry facilities, and express check-out. Complimentary self parking is available on site.
- Spa tub
- Free newspapers in lobby
- 24-hour front desk
- Express check-out
- Total number of rooms - 103
- Laundry facilities
- Television in lobby
- Indoor pool
- Elevator/lift
- Number of floors - 4
- Fitness facilities
- Free self parking
- Free breakfast
- Free WiFi
- Free wired high-speed Internet
Family Friendly Amenities
- Indoor pool
- Free Wi-Fi
- Laundry facilities
Available in all rooms: Free WiFi
Available in some public areas: Free WiFi , Free wired high-speed Internet
Free self parking
Room Amenities
- Desk
- Climate control
- Air conditioning
- Blackout drapes/curtains
- Free local calls
- Premium TV channels
- Coffee/tea maker
- Daily housekeeping
- Free toiletries
- Hair dryer
- Iron/ironing board
- Cable TV service
- Pillowtop mattress
- Cribs/infant beds available
- Flat-panel TV
- Free WiFi
Where to Eat
Guests are offered a complimentary continental breakfast each morning.
Nearby Things to Do
An indoor pool and a spa tub are on site. Other recreational amenities include a fitness center.
To make requests for specific accessibility needs, complete the "Special or Accessibility Requests" section of "Trip Preferences" when you book your hotel.
- In-room accessibility
- Accessible bathroom
- Accessible parking
Hotel Policies
Check-in time starts at 3 PM
Check-out time is noon
Payment types
Pets allowed, Only dogs and cats are allowed, Maximum number of pets per room 2
You need to know
Extra-person charges may apply and vary depending on hotel policy.
Government-issued photo identification and a credit card or cash deposit are required at check-in for incidental charges.
Special requests are subject to availability upon check-in and may incur additional charges. Special requests cannot be guaranteed.
No rollaway/extra beds available

subset: commoncrawl


text:
Milwaukee Brewers v Philadelphia Phillies
Antonio Bastardo of the Philadelphia Phillies throws a pitch during... News PhotoAntonio Bastardo,Baseball - Sport,Baseball Pitcher,Citizens Bank Park,Full Length,Horizontal,Major League Baseball,Match - Sport,Milwaukee Brewers,National League Baseball,Philadelphia - Pennsylvania,Philadelphia Phillies,Sport,Stadium,Throwing,USAPhotographer Brian GarfinkelCollection: Getty Images Sport 2013 Brian GarfinkelPHILADELPHIA, PA - JUNE 02: Antonio Bastardo #59 of the Philadelphia Phillies throws a pitch during the game against the Milwaukee Brewers at Citizens Bank Park on June 2, 2013 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The Phillies won 7-5. (Photo by Brian Garfinkel/Getty Images)


text:
Gunfire was heard Wednesday night near Leopold Elementary School, the south side school that went into lockdown Wednesday afternoon after reports of shots fired nearby, Madison police reported.
The second gunfire incident near the school in the same day was reported at about 8 p.m., police said in a news release.
Officers found two shell casings in the 2600 block of Ardsley Court, about three blocks from the school located Post Road.
"There was no evidence anybody or any property was struck," said Sgt. Karen Krahn in the release.
Early Wednesday afternoon, shots were reportedly fired near Turbot Drive, Pike Drive and Traceway Drive, all about a block from the school.
School officials put the elementary school into lockdown until officers could investigate and clear the scene.
"Classes were not disrupted and school was released on schedule when police advised us it was safe to do so," said Rachel Strauch-Nelson of the Madison Metropolitan School District.


text:
Share your experience
Prescribing mode: Rx
Cocaine (benzoylmethylecgonine) (International Nonproprietary Name) is a crystalline tropane alkaloid that is obtained from the leaves...Read on Wikipedia
2.05 0.5 421888
Satisfaction score?
Based on medical discussions around the web
Rate it yourself
Your rating has been added!
Cocaine for Local Anesthetic
We analyzed what people said about Cocaine
Satisfaction score?
Cocaine and Lamictal
Interaction between Cocaine and Lamictal: Interaction not known, but may still exist. Always consult your doctor before taking these medications together. Do not stop taking the medications without a physician's advice.
content loaded dynamically
We found 173 discussions
o take to get the cocaine out of my body and feeling better?...
" ...cocaine while on my prescribed doses of lamactil and Effexor. Should I ...worried? What steps do I need to take to get the cocaine out of my body and feeling better? I already talked... "
of the addictive cycle with cocain years ago. The lamictal...
" ...a short run with either lamictal or lithium might be just ...on them permanently. I used lamictal during my opiat and benzo detox and have had great results.. and I used ...exit out of the addictive cycle... "
and smoking most of the night. I didn't notice any effects...
" ...I was high on cocaine, and had been drinking and smoking most of the night. I didn't notice any effects even a few hours ...the bump. I am taking 200 mg of Lamictal and 40 mg of ...couple days after, still... "
started it was an addiction to crack cocaine. Could this be...
" ...that started it was an addiction to crack cocaine. Could this be possible? Lately, ...enormous amount of stressed and more depressed than ever and every ...wakes me up. I am now on Lamictal for... "
an IV cocaine addict and can't imagine going through the...
" ...it. I am an IV cocaine addict and can't imagine going ...am bipolar, I have taken lithium but wasn't happy with ...and the dr started me on a new A/D called Lamictal, so far it's really working well, I'm... "
so popular among the mentally disordered thats well be...
" ...why do you think meth and cocaine are so popular among the mentally disordered thats well beyond therapeutic and for ...at a time but now im on lamactil which isnt dangerous , and... "
lnesses? Lamictal hasn't really done anything but help me....
" I really meant that about the drug abuse (cocaine, lds, XTC, weed, shrooms, pills, opiates, meth, etc.), but ...onset of an elder illnesses? Lamictal hasn't really done anything but help me. "
shock with lamictal and rashes from dilanton. Hair...
" ...went into anapholatic shock with lamictal and rashes from dilanton. Hair loss ...safe for me, and fun. Cocaine and ritalin are bad 4 me but speed and other phenethylamines I should avoid due to seizure... "
tri-monthly cycles 2hypo/1depr but i'm mostly hypo s...
" ...you mean with the cocaine thing… i was listening to it throughout my undergraduate course it is frustrating i feel you, of course i always said f*ck off and that was that so no drug test for me… i am... "
has previous addiction problems with cocaine and alcolhol....
" my husband is taking 200 (blue tab) of Lamictal for bipolar. He has been on it since 4/2006. He has previous addiction problems with cocaine and alcolhol. Now is drug... "
Your Saved Posts ()
Sign up to keep them
Top ComparisonsMorphine vs. Cocaine Fentanyl vs. Cocaine Cocaine HCl vs. Cocaine Ativan vs. Cocaine Lorazepam vs. Cocaine
Related searchesLamictal and Depression Cocaine and Addiction Lamictal and Bipolar Disorder Cocaine and Smoking Lamictal and Seizures Cocaine and Pain Lamictal and Lithium Cocaine and Depression Lamictal and Anxiety Cocaine and Methamphetamine
Is this page helpful?
Send us feedback
Feedback sent
Are you (or someone you care for) currently taking this drug?