An End-Of-Year Thought - The Comfort Zone

The winter-dark leaves on the rhododendron visible from the kitchen window are beginning to open up from the tight curl they’ve recently wrapped themselves into, indicating that it’s now above freezing outside again.  Inside, the furnace is running, making some folks in unfriendly, oil-rich countries very happy. 

Things are all cozy inside.  The thermostat says the temperature inside the house is in the “comfort zone”.

Comfort zone.  Flannel sheets at night. Well-worn slippers to navigate cold floors.  A beat-up cardigan. Oatmeal for breakfast. Noodle soup later on.  Comfort zone.  Hard to beat!

The usual End of the Year activities include getting next year’s calendar up to date and making sure all the “writeoff-able” end-of-year business bills are paid, since tax time is almost upon us. It's nice to do it here in the Comfort Zone.

Some people make resolutions; I don’t bother anymore, since I’d rather save my “resolve” for more important things.  Nonetheless, since New Year’s Eve is a kind of “catch up and reflect” day, I tend to offer myself advice for the year ahead. (Yes, Self, I know I said I’d get back to work on that book I started writing last spring, but stuff got in the way.) 

So, in the spirit of public charity and graceful giving, I’ll share one piece of that New Year’s Eve advice with you. It’s just advice; you can take it or leave it.  Still, you might find it useful.

Listen up - here it comes:   since a new year is barreling down on us (and you want it to be better than the last one, right?), try to get out of your “comfort zone” on a fairly regular basis when it comes to your research habits. Here’s why that’s important:

The older you get, the easier it is to do the same thing over and over again.  Pretty soon, you’re an “expert” about something. Next thing you know, you spend lots of your time with that “thing” you’re now an expert about.  Sometimes, people even ask for your opinion or advice because, after all, you do that same thing all the time.  You’re The Expert.

Problem is, you may not even notice that many of those other skills that I like to call your “peripheral skills” are drying up and wasting away from lack of use. 

Here’s an example:  Genealogists tend to read lots of stuff that directly relates to the things they do when they’re researching. If you work a lot in the northeastern states during the colonial period and are considered an “expert” on, say, migration into Massachusetts in the 1630s, you’re probably on top of most of the new things that are being published.  Chances are you’re very comfortable with that location and time period, research-wise.

However, the very best researchers know the importance of casting a wide net, not only to be sure they’re not missing something important, but also to keep their peripheral skills sharp.  So, when the New Year rolls around, plan on getting out of your research comfort zone and learning/researching something new.  It’ll keep your research and analytical skills much sharper.

For example, you might try expanding your historic world view, especially since you’ve probably forgotten much of what you’ve learned in school. 

Let’s say you’re cozy with Massachusetts in 1640.  You know the records available for research.  You know the Major Players of the time period.  You know the social structure, the religious views, etc.  You’ve read all THE IMPORTANT BOOKS.

If you want to get out of your comfort zone, perhaps you should investigate what was happening in Virginia during that same time period. Or better yet, travel farther afield.  What was going on in the area that is now Arizona and New Mexico in 1640?  How about in China?  Think about the slave trade: what was life like along the coast of West Africa in 1640?  Or perhaps, in Egypt?

Then there’s language, words and word origins.  I’m not suggesting that you need to necessarily learn a new language, but would a review of Latin and Latinate legal phrases be worth your while and take you out of your research comfort zone? It would certainly improve your research skills.  For example, when you find the legal term “messuage” in a document, do you know its origin?  Have you studied the economic activity of the mid 17^th century well enough to know how things like property, tools and livestock were valued?

Maybe it’s time to learn a bit about architecture since, after all, the people we research had to live somewhere. Do you know what quoining is and why some bricklayers used Flemish bond?  What does a 17^th century nail look like? What’s an adze? Did they use the same building tools in New England and in New France? Oh, yeah – just how big is an arpent?

Recently, as archivists moved the thousands of boxes of papers of the late Sen. Robert Byrd of West Virginia to their new home at Shepherd College, one of his staffers pointed out one of his dictionaries.  It was well-worn, heavily underlined and annotated in the margins.  The staffer pointed out that Byrd (1917 -2010) set out years earlier to learn at least one or two new words every single day. 

Byrd, the longest serving member of Congress ever in the United States,  understood the importance of getting out of the Comfort Zone every day – even when he didn’t have to.

Getting out of that cozy comfort zone is good for the research soul.  Give it a shot in 2011.

Have a Happy!

 

A 19th Century Map Worth Studying

If you’ve ever looked at our Jonathan Sheppard Books website, you know that we have more than a passing interest in maps. Maps can often present information in dramatic ways that words cannot.

So, it was great to see a unique historic Civil War era map featured on the New York Times website earlier this month.   It became even more timely last week – all because of a fancy dress ball.

Last week, some folks in Charleston, South Carolina hosted a “Secession Ball”  to mark the beginning of the Civil War Sesquicentennial. The ball was held exactly 150 years after South Carolina representatives signed their Ordinance of Secession on December 20, 1860. A few days later, on Christmas Eve 1860, the South Carolina representatives issued a document titled “A Declaration of the Immediate Causes Which Induce and Justify the Secession of South Carolina from the Federal Union”.    Slavery and its future (or the lack of same) under the government headed by newly elected Abraham Lincoln was a major issue of concern.

On April 12th 1861, the first engagement of the Civil War took place at Fort Sumter – in Charleston, South Carolina’s harbor.

About five months later, in September 1861, the United States Coast Survey published a fascinating map showing the distribution of the slave population in the southern states, based on the information in the 1860 census. The data were presented on a county by county basis, both numerically and with shading, making it easy to see those counties where slaves made up the largest percentage of the population.

The map cost 50 cents and the proceeds from the map’s sale were to be used for the benefit of the sick and wounded soldiers of the U. S. Army.  You can see the map here.   [Hint: Click on the “PDF of map” hyperlink; it will let you look at the great detail available.]

The map was – for its time – a superb way to present complicated data, especially considering the number of people who could not read English.

An interesting side-note: at the time the map was published, the United States Coast Survey – a leader in the development of innovative, content-rich maps -  was headed by Alexander Dallas Bache (1806 – 1867), the great-grandson of Benjamin Franklin.

Bache, a West Point graduate and a professor of natural philosophy and chemistry at the University of Pennsylvania, was appointed Coast Survey superintendent in 1843 upon the death of its first leader Ferdinand Hassler. He remained in that position until his death in 1867. Among his other accomplishments, Bache was one of the founders and the first president of the National Academy of Sciences.  His papers, including his diaries and personal letters, are now housed in Washington at the Smithsonian Institution.


Source note: The "Negroes, Negroes" broadside above is from -
Duke University Rare Book, Manuscript, and Special Collections Library Advertising Ephemera Collection - Database #A0160
Emergence of Advertising On-Line Project
John W. Hartman Center for Sales, Advertising & Marketing History

Let's All Have a Holly Jolly!

I was considerably underwhelmed by the Christmas card choices available in most places this year.  

Sure, there are lots of specialty cards (including greetings purportedly from the family pets) and lots of both funny ha-ha and funny peculiar cards. There were cards with recorded music, including those with the voices of singers who left the planet years ago, plus lots of political and risque cards.

It made me realize just how good the fancy old (1890s - 1905s) Christmas postcards actually were.  Here's a few from the batch of postcards in the Jonathan Sheppard Books "general antiquarian - ephemera book fair" stock for your holiday amusement.  All are of U.S. origin and from the period above. 

Best of all, none of them sing at you...

 

PURPLE ROBED SANTAS ON SKATES ARE RARE!

PLEASANTLY IDYLLIC, RIGHT?

WE TEND NOT TO BE VISITED BY THE CHRISTMAS ROBIN MUCH

 

AT LEAST THE ANGEL DECORATES OUR TREE EVERY YEAR!

Enjoy the Holidays!

But First - Some Shameless Self-Promotion - The Article

Okay, here's the bit of shameless self-promotion. 

The current issue of “American Ancestors Journal” – the annual supplement that appears in the October issue of the “New England Historical and Genealogical Register” and deals with “non-New England” families – is now out. (That’s “Volume 164 - October 2010” of the “Register” for those who have electronic access to the journal on www.americanancestors.org)

My article, titled “The Shanley Family of Steuben County, New York in the Nineteenth Century” starts on page 352.  In the style of a narrative genealogy, it treats an extended Irish Catholic immigrant farm family who migrated from County Longford to central New York shortly after An Gorta Mór (the Great Hunger).

The goal of the article?   To provide the documentary evidence that (1.) there were three full brothers (Bernard, Patrick and Michael Shanley) and one half-brother (John Shanley) – all adult children of Alexander Shanley - who all arrived in Steuben County from County Longford, Ireland in the decade after 1845 and that (2.) their widowed mother Honorah (Cosgrove) Shanley also joined them in Steuben County.

The problems? There is no single document that connects all the Shanley brothers to each other and to their mother Honorah Shanley. They apparently arrived in Steuben County at different times. There are no probate records for Honorah Shanley that identify her children. No obituary marked her death and her grave has not yet been located. Her sons’ administrations do not reference their parents or their any of their siblings.  To further complicate matters, the half-brother John Shanley, who arrived in Steuben County with a wife and four adult children of his own, was closer in age to his father’s widow Honorah Shanley than to her three sons (who were his half-brothers.)  Finally, it’s 19th century New York we’re dealing with -  so official vital records are non-existent and church records are spotty at best.

Unlike the vast majority of their neighbors in Steuben County (who were mostly Protestant farmers born in New York, New England or New Jersey), the Irish Catholic Shanleys were part of a distinct, very small minority and near the bottom of the socioeconomic spectrum, especially in the early years following their arrival in central New York. At times, they worked as part of the servant class that staffed the houses and farms of their more affluent neighbors. References to the Shanleys in published histories are very few and very far between. There are no Shanley diaries or Shanley letters.  In a word, finding the proper documentary evidence of the Shanley family relationships and their life in Steuben County was “challenging.”

In other words, it was a great opportunity to dust off the Genealogical Proof Standard.

Plus, sometimes, even things carved in stone that genealogists normally take for granted can be incorrect. For example, Bernard ("Barney") Shanley, the first of the brothers to arrive in Steuben County, was a Civil War veteran; his government-issue headstone in Hammondsport’s Elmwood Cemetery has him dying on 9 September 1885, nearly a full year AFTER the Steuben Courier in Bath published his brief obituary – on 12 September 1884.

This headstone error of course gives new and personal meaning to the old saw – “Good enough for government work.”

The article is by no means the definitive work on this family; in fact, I intended it to be both a point of beginning and a point of departure, perhaps for a future article on the other immigrant members of the Shanley family - including two married sisters and possibly another brother in another county - who could not treated in depth because of space concerns.

After writing about 5500 words with 68 footnotes – not to mention numerous trips to both Steuben County repositories and the Family History Library in Salt Lake City – I know that I’ve still only scratched the surface of Shanley family history.  Moreover, I have new-found respect for all those who labor in the fields of "published genealogy", producing the articles that appear in those journals we all rely on for our facts, our reasoned opinions and our occasional inspiration.

Forging Links In The Chain Of Memory - A Thought For Thanksgiving

Early tomorrow morning, we will head east to enjoy the abundance of the Thanksgiving table with our family.  There will be four generations of us assembled, ranging in age from nearly 93 to nearly fourteen months.

We will share warm memories of holidays and feasts now long past and even warmer memories of friends and family now long gone. For some of us around the table, those memories will stretch back many decades, connecting us – at least in memory - with even earlier generations.  My mother, for example, will remember her childhood Thanksgivings in Brooklyn with her own grandmother – who was born less than three months after Abraham Lincoln’s inauguration, but who was likely too young to remember the day her own father and his brother marched off to the war in far-off Virginia with New York’s 189th Volunteers.

Since it is a day of cultural and ritual memory as well as a day of celebration, we will remember the words of our grandchildren’s long-ago 11th great-grandfather, Edward Winslow (portrait below), who signed the Mayflower Compact just below William Bradford on the 11th of November 1620.

 

A bit more than a year later, in the chill of December 1621, Winslow wrote to his “loving and old friend” George Morton, who would later sail with his family from London for “Plymouth in New England” in the spring of 1623. In his letter, Winslow recounted the Plymouth Plantation’s first harvest and described the event that today we remember and celebrate as the first Thanksgiving.

Winslow wrote:

“We set the last Spring some twenty Acres of Indian Corn, and sowed some six Acres of Barley & Pease, and according to the manner of the Indians, we manured our ground with Herrings or rather Shads, which we have in great abundance, and take with great ease at our doors. Our Corn did prove well, & God be praised, we had a good increase of Indian-Corn, and our Barley indifferent good, but our Pease not worth the gathering, for we feared they were too late sown, they came up very well, and blossomed, but the Sun parched them in the blossom; our harvest being gotten in, our Governor sent four men on fowling, that so we might after a more special manner rejoice together, after we had gathered the fruit of our labours; they four in one day killed as much fowl, as with a little help beside, served the Company almost a week, at which time amongst other Recreations, we exercised our Arms, many of the Indians coming amongst us, and amongst the rest their greatest King Massasoit, with some ninety men, whom for three days we entertained and feasted, and they went out and killed five Deer, which they brought to the Plantation and bestowed on our Governor, and upon the Captain, and others. And although it be not always so plentiful, as it was at this time with us, yet by the goodness of God, we are so far from want, that we often wish you partakers of our plenty.”

Later in the letter, before listing those few necessities that he thought Morton should bring to New England with him, such as paper for window coverings and cotton for lamp wicks, Winslow described the abundance of the New World:

“For fish and fowl, we have great abundance, fresh Cod in the Summer is but coarse meat with us, our Bay is full of Lobsters all the Summer, and affordeth variety of other Fish; in September we can take a Hogshead of Eels in a night, with small labour, & can dig them out of their beds, all the Winter we have Mussels and Other [shellfish] at our doors: Oysters we have none near, but we can have them brought by the Indians when we will; all the Spring time the earth sendeth forth naturally very good Sallet Herbs; here are Grapes, white and red, and very sweet and strong also. Strawberries, Gooseberries, Raspas, &c.   Plums of three sorts, with black and red, being almost as good as a Damsen: abundance of Roses, white, red, and damask: single, but very sweet indeed; the Country wanteth only industrious men to employ, for it would grieve your hearts (if as I) you had seen so many miles together by goodly Rivers uninhabited and withall to consider those parts of the world wherein you live, to be even greatly burdened with abundance of people.”

Winslow would no doubt be amazed to see what has grown up along the banks of those "goodly Rivers unihabited!"

May all who read this enjoy the peace and abundance of the day with family and friends, and, in the words of Edward Winslow, in “…a more special manner rejoice together.”

Most of all, amidst all the feasting and rejoicing, take time to do something to forge another link in the chain of memory that binds us to generations past, so that you in turn will be linked in memory to generations yet to come.

US and THEM, Or Drawing that Bright Line Around “Family”

A few weeks ago, we had dinner with a small number of well-known genealogists.  Since it was a somewhat captive audience of “experts”, in between the waitress’s serving of the main course and her soliciting orders for the coffee and dessert, I raised the question, “When do those folks with whom we have a “blood kinship” (i.e., descent from a common ancestor) cease to be our “family” and become something else – or perhaps, nothing at all?”

Interestingly, the responses suggested that the question is far from simple, since there was no single point of agreement as to where the line dividing “family” from “non-family” should be drawn.

Why does this matter? Well, before we’re able to define the scope of a research project, those of us who do genealogy usually have to come to grips with that basic definitional problem, otherwise the project would grow out of control.

Exactly what do we mean when we speak of “family”?  And are we possibly stepping out onto shifting sands by even raising the question in the first place …?

Even though I’ve been doing family history and genealogy for nearly 50 years I’m still surprised to learn where non-genealogists draw the line when they’re faced with the task of defining their own “family.

For example, several years ago, while working through a large archival collection, I found a letter addressed to the individual whose career I was researching.  In it, the correspondent, who was writing what was essentially a “fan letter” to a journalist that he listened to on the radio, identified himself as a simple apple grower AND then mentioned that he was the journalist’s father’s first cousin (making him therefore the recipient’s first cousin once removed). He then proceeded to observe that he didn’t expect a personal reply to his fan letter since he and the journalist were – in his words - “barely related”.

Certainly that’s not a position that most genealogists would take!

Similarly, I received an email a short while ago from the great-grandson of my grandfather’s first cousin, asking for information about my grandfather’s major league baseball career during the World War One era and before.  In the note, he described my grandfather as his “distant relative.”

However, maybe it’s not so strange after all, since the very condition of being “related” to someone – in effect, being a full-fledged member of someone’s “family” – often brings with it certain responsibilities.  These responsibilities can be emotionally, financially or sometimes even politically demanding.

Are people who view themselves as distant relations still “family”? Are second cousins still “family”?  What about those who descend from a much more remote common ancestor born, say, in the 16th century? For that matter, what about that very same remote common ancestor him or herself? There’s no question that he or she is related as “kin” in the genetic sense, but is that individual someone who would be considered “family” in the common everyday sense of the word?  Or is that person just another member of the “Family of Man” with whom we share one of many of our genetic relationships?

Try this: if the final resting place of this remote ancestor from the 16th century was discovered and identified beyond all question, would you chip in, say, 200 of your hard-earned dollars for a grave marker? How about for your much closer (but still largely unknown) great-great grandmother?  Does your third cousin deserve a seat at your daughter’s wedding reception, simply because he’s kin? How about your favorite aunt’s grandson? Would you vote for a first cousin who was running for a state office, even if her political views were, in your opinion, more than a little weird?


Then, there are the spouses of those blood kin.  Where do they stand?

Where do YOU draw the line on family?

“Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs…” Shakespeare’s “Richard II 3. 2

The unexplored richness of archival collections is – at least to me - a never-ending source of delight and amazement.  Here’s a great example from Great Britain.

Sir George Scharf (1820 – 1895), the son of German artist George Scharf and his wife Elizabeth Hicks, was born in London and grew up there.  Although an artist like his father, Scharf is best known as the “father” of the National Portrait Gallery in London, serving as its first secretary and director from 1857 to 1895. His papers, including his diaries chronicling life at the upper reaches of Victorian London, are now housed in the Gallery’s Heinz Archive and Library.  It’s a massive collection, described in the introduction to the finding aid as containing “445 volumes, 166 files, 659 items and 6 sets of playing cards”.

Of course, as any archivist will attest, there are never enough hours in the day to thoroughly describe every single item in a large archival collection’s finding aid.  So, it came as a great surprise when Krzysztof Adamiec, an assistant archivist working with the collection, began to investigate the contents of what appeared to be an old cigarette case, which had probably not been opened for more than a century. 

In it, he found some strips of ancient leather, some wood fragments and some notes containing body measurements, along with a sketch of a human skull by Scharf.  Further research in Scharf’s diaries strongly suggests that all this relates to an event Scharf attended in 1871 – the opening of the tomb of King Richard II, who died in 1400, after being deposed by King Henry IV.  The leather fragments are likely from the king’s glove and the wood, from his coffin.

More important, however, is the skull sketch and accompanying measurements.  Although it would not have been possible in 1871, modern forensic imaging techniques will very likely make it possible to create a reasonably accurate portrait of Richard, the son of the Black Prince and the Fair Maid of Kent. 

That, of course, underscores the value of archival collections.  It is impossible even for the creators of the collection to know the uses to which the information in them will be put as time goes on.  What may seem no more than a curiosity to one generation may become valuable primary source data to the next.

 

Here’s the link to the story (which is illustrated by Scharf’s skull sketch), as it appeared in yesterday’s Guardian.