The Family Stuff - Part Two: Order Out of Chaos

In my last post, I suggested that family historians, especially those with lots of “family stuff”, needed to consider the fact that many of our heirs will have only a passing interest in the things that consume our personal time and resources.  

 In fact, for many of the things in our collections that we KNOW are important, such as photos, documents, and family artifacts, there’s a very thin line between the treasure and the trash.

After all, a lot of our “stuff” doesn’t look like much.  More important, hardly any of it is identified in any meaningful way.

I know, I know… YOU know what it all is.  YOU can identify all the folks in that old photo…well, most of ‘em, anyway.  YOU know why that old deed’s important and who made that old quilt. YOU know that your grandpa made that magazine rack in his workshop after he retired in in 1947. 

Problem is, nobody else knows any of that.   And even if you wrote “Aunt Jane and Uncle Bill.  Sally’s birthday.  1956” on the back of a picture, that just doesn’t cut it for future researchers.

Only YOU have what they call “intellectual control” and it’s all in your head.  In the world of archives, somebody (an archivist) has to figure out what stuff is, then write down some kind of meaningful description of it all so that it can be used.  Plus, it has to have some kind of consistent and coherent format, so that researchers can search for information about the stuff in some kind of systematic way. Or at very least, know what’s in all those boxes.

This is what creating “metadata” is all about.   “Metadata” is simply a term used to describe “data about data”, or information about information. And writing good metadata is the first step to establishing “intellectual control” over your stuff.

Archivists create metadata and finding aids for their collections and in the process, establish “intellectual control” over them.  In a nutshell, first they figure out what they have and where it came from. Who created it? Why is it important? And so on.  Once they know what they have, then they write it all down so that other people can know, too.  This makes their “stuff” useable.

That’s something we all should consider.  Metadata.

Of course, there are lots of off-the-shelf resources for the professional librarian and/or archivist when it comes to cataloging and describing things. There are theories, graduate courses, software, and even whole companies that produce gee-gaws and resources for professionals in the information and records management professions.

For the family historian who takes on the multiple roles of archivist - librarian – curator – records manager – preservationist simultaneously, there’s not a lot out there.  That’s why we tend to build our own systems, based largely on the kinds of “stuff” we have in our collections.

I use a relatively simple system, designed to capture the essential information and work with a simple spreadsheet program (for ease of sorting and categorizing “like” things) and also with a word processing program (for ease of cataloging and for printing descriptive sheets for “The Inventory Book”, more about which much later.)

It’s both labor-intensive and time-consuming, but, in the end, I think it’s worth it.  The goal here is to create “metadata”, which is, as I said above, simply data about data, or information about information.  

In other words, I want my heirs (or future researchers) to know what the stuff is, where it came from and why it’s important. 

So, for today, here are a few words about how my own system works, followed by an example:

First off, the system is based upon being able to describe/capture up to 10 key data elements for each “thing.”

One of those data elements is a unique inventory control number that is assigned on the day the item is processed. I use an eight-digit date-based code, with the first two digits being the current year, the next two, the current month, the third two, the day the cataloguing’s being done and the last two, the order in which the “thing” was catalogued on that day. 

Next, that unique item number also gets added to the item itself in a non-harmful and unobtrusive way.  For example, it’s written lightly in soft pencil on the back of a snapshot or document.  Items stored in folders or envelopes get their numbers on the folder or envelope.  Artifacts more often than not get tagged in some way.

Then, using my word-processing program, I write up the short description, noting the content and condition, then write about the significance, origin and current storage location, etc.  You'll see the template for all that after the photo below.  Finally, since I’m working in word processing mode, I add a scan or photo of the item to top of the description page.   

 In the end, I have a single page for each item that looks something like this:

1.            ITEM:   Photograph, black and white, showing Catherine Scott, sister of Peter M. Scott, in large feathered hat.

2.            DESCRIPTION (size, color, etc.):  about 4” X 6”, trimmed, with small center crease

3.            CONTENT (if image, identify):  Catherine M. Scott (10 Feb 1895 – 24 Dec 1925) was the daughter of Albert Scott and Catherine Cramer.  Born in Bath, NY, she died in Buffalo, NY at Roswell Park Hospital where she was being treated for cancer.

4.            CONDITION: Good

5.            CREATOR: (by whom, when and where created?) Studio photograph, unknown photographer, probably Albany NY, circa 1920.

6.            SIGNIFICANCE: (Significance of item, including intended purpose and historical significance) family photo

7.            PROVENANCE:  From the collection Peter M. Scott, then to MJW3 in 1976.

8.            ORIGINAL ITEM:  (if digital image or photocopy, does original still exist?)  Yes

9.            LOCATION: (where is the original stored?)  Box 2, folder 10

10.         NUMBER: 11070603

Once the description is written, I can “cut and paste” the data elements text into my spreadsheet program, where I can easily sort, search and print as necessary.

Note that the data elements (in BOLD above) always stay the same; it's the content that changes from item to item.  That way (by using a template), you're forced to actually think about what the item is in some meaningful, consistent way. By the way, that "actually thinking" part is a key step.

Here’s a screenshot, showing what that looks like in an Excel spreadsheet:

(HINT: if you click on the image, it gets bigger)

As a "curatorial plus records management" system, it’s not particularly high-tech, but it works for me.

There’s more, of course, but that will have to wait for another day.  

It's Mrs. W's birthday, and almost time for our annual night out on the town, in search of the perfect hot-fudge sundae.

Dealing With All The Family Stuff: Does Anyone Else Care?

Genealogists have stuff. 

Usually, lots of it.

Some stuff, like family photos with names on the back, for example, can be obvious, even to the uninformed.  (All your family photos are identified, right?) 

Other stuff – artifacts with some kind of family significance – is much less identifiable as “important” to the casual observer.

If the things that make up our “family stuff” have a resale value, that’s one thing.  But if they have only “family history” value, then, the casual observer often only sees them just so much junk.

So, who’s this “casual observer”?  

In this case, it’s anybody who doesn’t “do” genealogy.  That usually encompasses most of the people we know outside of our circle of genealogy friends, and, sadly, a good part of our families.  

Think heirs.

We live in the hope that our heirs will know that our “stuff” is valuable and that it needs to be saved/preserved for future generations. However, there’s a cold reality that we rarely face.

Only we – who know the history of the “stuff” - know exactly why it’s important.  And, without our knowledge, it’s just junk.

So, what got me started on this line of thought?  

Well, actually, it was a brown archival document box that I needed to move to make room for something else.   Inside the box was “stuff.”  

The “stuff” was a collection of items that were part of an exhibit at the Albany Institute of History and Art way back in 1986, when the city was celebrating its Tricentennial and the Albany Institute (founded in 1791 and one of the oldest institutions of its kind in the United States) hosted a two-year exhibit called “Albany’s Families: 350 Years of Growth And Change”

Back then, they asked me to represent German-American families and to gather together the family “stuff” that might make for interesting viewing in a two-year long museum exhibit.  The fact that I was the Executive Secretary of the Tricentennial Commission for the City of Albany make have played a small part in all that.

The First Mel - Wire Service Pic

In any case, I had one thing that made for an interesting exhibit.  My grandfather, for whom I am named, had been a professional (and major league) baseball player.

He was, among other things, a pitcher for the Chicago White Sox.

I had his Chicago White Sox uniform from 1917, the year the Sox won the World Series.  I had his glove.  I had my grandmother’s season pass to Comiskey Stadium for 1917. 

And a whole lot of other stuff – baseball and non-baseball, including a copy of my great-great grandfather’s emigration permit from the Duchy of Saxe-Altenburg - spanning a total of five generations of the family in Albany, since 1857. 

But in the end,  it was the baseball stuff.  Kids visiting the exhibit loved it. How the kid from Albany - the son and grandson of immigrants - could grow up to play major league baseball.

A lot of this “family stuff” became part of the museum's exhibit, and after it closed in 1988, much of it ended up in that brown archival document box that I mentioned above.

As I opened the box and reviewed its contents, it suddenly dawned on me.  Nobody else knew what this “stuff” was and why it was important.

Now, I’m a pretty good genealogist.  No, strike that.  I’m an exceptionally good genealogist who, in the 50 years I’ve been doing this, has broken through more brick walls than the average “family genealogist” will encounter in a lifetime.  For nearly six years, I’ve written the genealogy column for the New York State Archives magazine.  I’ve been lecturing at national and regional conferences since the 1980s. 

I make no apologies; I’m very, very good at what I do.

But still, there’s all that “family stuff” in boxes.

How can I make sure that it doesn’t all end up in the dumpster, mostly because nobody else knows what it is and knows why it’s important?  After all, I’m a bit long in the tooth, having been born when Roosevelt was in the White House.

Well, for the past several days, in between putting finishing touches on the talk on archives research that I’ll be doing at the Massachusetts Genealogical Council’s annual event at Bentley University in  a few weeks, I’ve been designing (and testing) a system that I can use to inventory and catalogue all this “family stuff”.

Actually, it arose because of my PowerPoint slides on using archival finding aids that will be in my talk.

Metadata.  Data about data. Searchable.  Understandable to non-genealogists.  Finding an easy way to describe all the “stuff” in a family collection that ranges from documents to photos to artifacts over several centuries.  A system that makes it clear not only what something is, but why it’s important. 

In the issue before the current issue of New York State Archives magazine, I wrote about the “home archives” in an essay titled “Keepers of the Family Stuff.”  

In the next post or two, I’ll be discussing exactly how I’m putting this into practice, personally.  I'll be discussing metadata.  And "intellectual control", which is a jargonistic archives term.  And the importance of using a "controlled vocabulary", which you may never have given much thought to.

Of course, all your “family stuff” is already properly identified, so that your heirs will know what’s important and why, right?

Up North, It's Dominion Day ... No, Wait . . . Canada Day ! So, in Case You Ever Wondered About the BNA Act...

Big weekend, this.  

All around here, it’s big doings in the works for the Fourth of July, the annual Independence Day celebration.  Parades, fireworks, flags, barbecues, and more parades. 

A couple of hundred miles north, it’s also Dominion Day.

Oh, wait…since 1987, they’ve been calling it “Canada Day”, or in Quebec, La Belle Province, “Fête du Canada.” Break out the tourtières and plates of poutine!

(Note: for me, it’s still “Dominion Day”, since that’s what it was when I was at university so many years ago…I’m kind of a traditionalist about these things.)

Everybody down here in these parts knows what the Fourth of July is all about, but Dominion Day (Canada Day) is something unto itself.

Canada, as you may have figured out, is not like the United States; it is a constitutional monarchy.  That’s right; it’s a real hereditary monarchy.  That means Canada has a real, live, medieval-type monarch, with all the attendant pomp and circumstance, as the head of state (but not as the head of the government – that’s the job of the Prime Minister.)  

This separate “hereditary head of state” thing is hard for some U.S. citizens to wrap their heads around, because in the U.S., the “head of state” and “the head of government” are one in the same person.  You get elected President – bingo, you’re the head of the government AND the head of state.

The fact that Canada is a monarchy also means that, if you become a Canadian citizen, you will swear allegiance (first) to the monarch and his/her descendants in perpetuity.   

The Oath goes like this:

I swear (or affirm) that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to [Monarch’s name here], [King/Queen] of Canada, [His/Her] Heirs and Successors, and that I will faithfully observe the laws of Canada and fulfill my duties as a Canadian citizen.

Note that the oath of allegiance places loyalty to the monarch before allegiance to the government (i.e. “the laws of Canada” and “duties as a Canadian citizen.”) That’s all part of the “state before government” idea.  

Imagine for a moment if new citizens in the United States swore allegiance to the President before swearing to uphold the laws of the country: I solemnly swear that I will bear faithful and true allegiance to President Franklin Pierce and his successors…

These days, the monarch (i.e., Queen of Canada) is a pleasant elderly lady who just turned 90 and is professionally known as Her Majesty Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom, Canada and Her Other Realms and Territories, Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith, and whose somewhat-out-of-date picture is also on all the Canadian currency. 

This week, her grandson William and his somewhat new bride Kate (AKA The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge)  are touring his Grandma’s territory.  In case he needs to travel incognito, William Wales, as he is known to his military colleagues, is also the Earl of Strathearn and the Baron Carrickfergus. 

In all likelihood, at some point in time, this Canada place will be Will’s Dominion, and he will be King of Canada, regnant as “William V” (unless, of course, something untoward takes place.)

Meanwhile, the folks in Canada are unveiling his own personal flag this week, to be flown wherever he happens to be. You can see it here, on the Prime Minister’s webpage.  

It was designed by the Canadian Heraldic Authority and was, of course, approved by Her Majesty and Prince William.  You can’t just go around passing any old thing off as a Royal Standard.  Standards must have standards.

Some more about that monarchy thing - The fact that Canada is a monarchy becomes readily apparent if you break the law.  In the United States, if your transgression of New York State law is serious enough to go to trial, you will be prosecuted by a “district attorney” and your case will likely be referred to in case law as “The People of the State of New York versus [insert your name here].”   

That’s the whole “popular sovereignty” bit – We The People and all that.

In Canada, for all time, your case will be referenced simply as “The Crown versus [your name here]” and your legal representative will be going toe to toe with a “Crown” prosecutor, a person who may well have the initials “Q.C.” (Queen’s Counsel) after his or her name.

Moral: when in Canada, don’t tick off the Queen.  It’s her country and she’ll get ya for that.

Canada became a “dominion” within the British Empire in 1867 with the passage of the “British North America Act”, usually called the BNA Act.  Prior to that, Canada was a concept and some colonies but not a nation.  There were individual colonies known collectively as the “Province of Canada”, made up of Canada East and Canada West, plus the maritime colonies of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick.  The British North America Act turned those colonies into a single entity known as the “Dominion of Canada”, hence the celebration today of “Dominion Day”, or “Canada Day” for all you kids out there.

In 1871, another Parliamentary act added Manitoba, Rupert’s Land and the Northwest Territories to the Dominion.  Prince Edward Island, after flirting with the idea of becoming part of the United States, finally joined the Dominion of Canada in 1873.  Newfoundland, the tenth and last Canadian province, did not actually become “Canadian” until 1949, when the Crown Colony joined the rest of the Dominion to make the “Canada” that we know today.

So, when you celebrate the U.S.- style Fourth of July holiday this weekend, give a thought for your neighbors to the north and wish ‘em a Happy Canada Day.  

Of course, lots of folks in “the States” (as our Canadian friends call this part of the world) think that Canada is kind of like the United States, but colder, with somewhat better manners, generally better beer, Tim Horton’s coffee and a penchant for saying “oot and aboot.”

 

Canada is, of course, so much more than that. They are our cousins and neighbours and as they say in their National Anthem, “the True North, strong and free.”

Oh, and one more thing.  Canadians sometimes take a little tiny bit of offense (in a very polite, non-threatening Canadian way, of course) when folks in the United States call themselves “Americans”, as though they had some kind of exclusive trademarked lock on the name.  Our Canadians friends will politely suggest that, if you do this, you may want to look at a map first and note that they too are “Americans” – this being a large continent - , just not part of the nation that is known as “The United States of America.”

Of course, they’re mostly okay with the cousins below the 49^th parallel calling themselves “Uh-mur-kins.”  

That’s a whole different kettle of cod, eh?

Do You Remember The Not-So-Glorious New York Fourth of July in 1832?

This afternoon, while organizing my books, I spent some time with the diary of Philip Hone (1780 – 1851), the one-term early 19^th century Whig mayor of New York City.   Hone is remembered less for his stint as mayor than for his skills as a meticulous 19^th century diarist.

While I had his diary in hand, two things crossed my mind: the impending 4^th of July holiday and Texas Governor Rick Perry.

Obviously, it will be a reach to connect the two with Philip Hone, but it’s not impossible, as you will see.  

Several months ago (late April to be exact) the Hon. Rick Perry, governor of Texas, signed a proclamation declaring April 22 – 24, 2011 as Days of Prayer For Rain.  The official text reads as follows:

NOW, THEREFORE, I, RICK PERRY, Governor of Texas, under the authority vested in me by the Constitution and Statutes of the State of Texas, do hereby proclaim the three-day period from Friday, April 22, 2011, to Sunday, April 24, 2011, as Days of Prayer for Rain in the State of Texas. I urge Texans of all faiths and traditions to offer prayers on that day for the healing of our land, the rebuilding of our communities and the restoration of our normal way of life.

You can view the whole proclamation here.  

For some reason, that reminded me of the impending 4^th of July holiday.  And that sent me to Philip Hone’s diary for the 4^th of July, 1832. 

I picked 1832 for a reason.

Just like things have been in the state of Texas lately, times were tough in New York City in the summer of 1832.  But it wasn’t because of lack of rain.  Here’s Hone on the state of affairs on the morning of July 4^th, 1832:

“It is a lovely day, but very different from all previous anniversaries of independence.  The alarm about the cholera has prevented all the usual jollification under the public authority.  There are no booths on Broadway, the parade which was ordered has been countermanded, no corporation dinner and no ringing of bells.  Some troops are marching about the street, “upon their own hook”, I suppose.  Most of the stores are closed, and there is a pretty smart cannonade of crackers by the boys; but it is not a regular Fourth of July.  The disease is here in all its violence, and will increase.  God grant that its ravages may be confined and its visit short!”

Several weeks earlier, on Friday, June 15^th, Hone wrote:

“Bishop Onderdonk has published a very sensible pastoral letter to the ministers of his diocese, urging them to make a spiritual use of the apprehended danger, and prescribing a form of prayers to be used in the service of the Church.”

On the following Monday, he noted:

“Prayers were offered up yesterday in all the churches to avert the threatened visit of the cholera, and sermons preached to prepare the minds of the people for the affliction, which seems now to be considered inevitable.”

The prayers offered up in Bishop Onderdonk’s churches had much the same effect on cholera as Rick Perry’s three days of prayer had on Texas weather.  Despite the heartfelt invocations, the Asiatic Cholera, like the Texas drought, came anyway.

Prior to 1832, cholera was an Asian disease.  It was unknown in North America. Its causes and its treatment, while widely discussed in medical circles, were unknown.  

However, in 1832, all that began to change.

During the spring and summer of 1832, more than 30,000 mostly Irish immigrants arrived in Canada via the St. Lawrence River, docking at the receiving station of Grosse Isle near Quebec City.  While many stayed for a time in Quebec and Ontario, a large number headed to cities south of the border.  Plattsburgh.  Albany.  Buffalo. Kingston.  Burlington.  Worcester.  Hartford.  Boston.  New York.

The arriving ships told the tale:

28 April – the ship Constantia from Limerick arrived at Grosse Isle, Quebec. There were 29 cholera deaths on the crossing.

14 May – the ship Robert from Cork, with 10 cholera deaths during the voyage, arrived at Grosse Isle.

28 May – the ship Elizabeth from Dublin docked at Grosse Isle and reported 20 cholera deaths during the crossing.

3 June – the ship Carricks from Dublin arrived at Grosse Isle.  Cholera was rampant. 42 cholera deaths had occurred during the voyage.

By mid-June, cholera had moved from Quebec to Montreal and then further west to Lachine, Brockville, Kingston and Cornwall.  

Meanwhile, by mid-June, Irish immigrant arrivals from Canada in Plattsburgh, New York and Burlington, Vermont took sick with cholera and died there. Toward the end of June, the wife and two children of an Irish immigrant named Fitzgerald died of cholera in New York City. In a day or two, everything mushroomed out of control in New York City. 

New Yorkers were sure they knew the cause.  It was God’s punishment for something or other.  Or it was the Irish immigrants, since the disease was rampant in neighborhoods that were thickly settled by immigrants.  Immigrants were dirty, and carried the cholera.  Immigrants were “not like us.”

Wealthy New Yorkers left the city in droves.  Hone took his family and headed for the security of Rockaway to take some salubrious sea air and wait out the disease.

After the worst of the epidemic was over, Hone described the newly arrived Irish immigrants in his diary entry of 20 September 1832 .  He wrote:

“Of these, a large proportion find their way into the United States destitute and friendless. They have brought the cholera this year, and they will always bring wretchedness and want. The boast that our country is the asylum for the oppressed in other parts of the world is very philanthropic and sentimental, but I fear that we shall, before long, derive little comfort from being made the almshouse and place of refuge for the poor of other countries.”

By the end of the summer, more than 3500 New Yorkers had died of cholera.  Its cause would remain unknown until 1854 when John Snow, by investigating the families that got their water from the Broad Street Pump in London, proved conclusively that its cause was not the wrath of God or Irish immigrants, but rather water contaminated with human waste.  

Cholera was a bacterial disease, caused by the organism Vibrio cholereae, shown above, that passed from victim to victim by exposure to polluted water.  

It was all explainable by simple science.

Of course, these days, the legitimacy of “simple science” is questioned by populist pundits, and the idea that “big government” should be involved in public health has become a matter for debate, underscoring the fact that there’s really no cure for “stupid.” 

Anyway, enjoy a Glorious cholera-free Fourth of July!

Breaking News From Hot Springs, S.D.: Earth is Square!

When it comes to unusual maps and history, I’m always a sucker for a good story.

So, how could I pass up commenting on this piece on the History Blog that described the donation of a truly rare item to the Library of Congress by former North Dakota State Senator Don Homuth. 

Apparently the Library of Congress does not yet have its very own copy of Orlando Ferguson’s  treatise published in 1893 in Hot Springs, South Dakota entitled “Map of a Square and Stationary Earth”, in which Ferguson makes it perfectly clear that the Earth is not a sphere, but rather a square.  There are only a few known copies of this groundbreaking treatise, which, of course, is hard to fathom, considering its scientific importance and insight.

So, exactly who was this mysterious deep thinker and scientific “wunderkind” -  Orlando Ferguson of South Dakota?

Sadly, there’s no extant copy of the census for 1890 that might help reveal his identity.  However, the 1900 and the earlier 1880 Federal censuses give us a clue.

According to the 1900 census, Orlando Ferguson was a resident of  Jackson, Fall River County, South Dakota, and had been born in November 1846 in Illinois.  His father was born in Virginia and his mother in North Carolina.  He was married about 1873 to an Illinois-born woman named Marguerite.  

The father of nine children, he appears to have moved to South Dakota sometime after the birth of his son William in Missouri in December 1881 and before the birth of his son D. T. in South Dakota in May of 1884.

In 1900, he identified himself as a “Doctor of Medicine.”

He must have studied really hard, because 20 years earlier, he can be found in Lamar Township, Barton County, Missouri, with his wife and his two oldest children, as a hotel keeper, which, as we all know, provides much of the necessary training to become a “Doctor of Medicine”, at least in some parts of these United States.

He likely died before 1910, because in that year, his widow was listed in the census as running a “bath and boarding house.”  (Income from the “doctor biz” can be notoriously unreliable, but nearly everyone needs a bath now and then.)

Ferguson was obviously a man of many talents. Hotel keeper, doctor, author, bathhouse proprietor, there was seemingly no end to his many endeavours.

Did I mention "Astronomer"?

In 1891, Ferguson published a 42 page document called “The Latest Theories of Astronomy: The Globe Theory of Earth Refuted.”

Then, a few years later, he began a monthly journal, which he no doubt intended to be his “magnum opus” and, if enough subscribers joined him, his meal-ticket to a comfortable retirement.

In the 1896 edition of “Miscellaneous Notes and Queries: A Monthly Magazine of Folk-Lore, Mathematics, Mystics, Arts, Scicnce [sic], Etc.” Vol XIV, published by S.C. and L.M. Gould of Manchester, N.H., the following announcement appeared:  

“The Square World is the name of a new monthly venture published at Hot Springs, South Dakota, and edited by Orlando Ferguson. Its leading text, is: "And after these things I saw four angels standing on the four corners of the earth," found in the Apocalypse (vii, 1). Illustrated with a map of the land and water surface on a square plane. He quotes the following text under the caption of " Prophecy of the Street Cars ": "The chariots shall rage through the streets, they shall jostle one against another in the broad ways, they shall seem like torches, they shall run like lightning." Fifty cents a year.”

Orlando Ferguson didn’t have much success creating a following for his “flat, square earth theory” in the 1890s.  “The Square World” never seemed to catch on.

Unfortunately, considering the current state of scientific denialism in the United States today, he’d have a much better chance of gathering a larger following.  And maybe even a political constituency.

I’m looking forward to the political debates of 2012; chances are, there will be at least one candidate who, in addition to espousing the “square earth” idea, will insist that early humans kept dinosaurs as pets, just like they showed on the “Flintstones.”

I wonder which one it will be? 

Beuhler?  Beuhler?