While touring the Chicago History Museum it suddenly occurred to me that my husband had two sets of several time great grandparents that had experienced the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. Adding historical perspective to your family narrative is important and I completely missed this event!
What I learned was that over 100,000 people became homeless. Using old tents left from the Civil War, they were set up along the Lake Michigan waterfront while new homes were being built.
I also had completely missed the fact that there were many aid organizations from around the world that sent funds to help the displaced. I was interested in finding a list of organizations and if they had any records of who they had helped.
It seems in my husband’s family’s case, the families relocated on their own.
I always knew that Drusilla Williams DeWolf Thompson went back and forth between her birth location of Lansingburg, Troy, New York and Chicago. After marrying her first husband in 1850 Calvin DeWolf (not to be confused with the famous lawyer of the same name at the same time in the same place) the couple left for Chicago. I have not found where Calvin was buried but while in Chicago, I was able to discover where early residents of Rock Island were interred. I’m hoping those clues will lead me to his burial site.
Dru remarried widower Thomas Coke Thompson in Chicago in 1857 and the couple had three children. Well, four if you are looking at the 1880 US census which lists child Nellie, born in 1869. Nellie does not appear with the family in 1870; instead, she is living in a household in Rock Island with a different family. I suspect that Dru knew the family from her time living in Rock Island with her first husband and took over as Nellie’s guardian for a time. I haven’t found adoption paperwork or what became of Nellie.
So, where was Dru when the fire roared through town in October 1871? Likely, Chicago as she was found there in the 1870 census. Interestingly, she was next discovered back in Lansingham in 1875 in the New York State census. Dru evidently went back to her birthplace once she lost her home in Chicago.
I blogged a few weeks ago about Mary O’Brien and her husband, John Cook. Both of those individuals were in the Chicagoland area when the fire broke out. The problem is they are not found in the 1870 US census. By 1880 they were found again in Chicago. Were they one of the displaced? Until I discover their address in 1871 I won’t know that. Since there are so many John and Mary Cooks in the area during this time this will take a bit of work. I’m saving this one for next winter.
When my husband and I went to Sweden in April we visited the family home and church for ancestors who were on both his maternal and paternal sides.
Kris and Mangus, of MinnesotaSwede.com, mentioned they were intrigued by how early Samuel August Samuelson and his parents had emigrated to the US and settled in Chicago – 1851! I never thought much about that date but knew from a mug book account that the family only remained in Chicago for one year and then relocated to Porter County, Indiana.
I discovered in Sweden the reason they first went to Chicago. Sam’s older half-brother, Carl Gustaf Johnson, had left Sweden for Chicago in 1849. Why? Samuel Eriksson was a tenant farmer who had married Anna Elisabet “Lisa” Torstensdotter after she had birthed Carl. The family stayed together working for an estate for years but in 1849 the estate let the family go as it appears that the property was sold and the new owners had their own tenants that they wanted to hire.
Samuel, Lisa, and their four surviving children moved to work at a smaller estate as tenant farmers. Perhaps there wasn’t room for Carl or he decided to set off on an adventure in America. According to Kris and Mangus, this wasn’t the time that most Swedes left the country. Only those who believed there was nothing left for them in Sweden took the long and dangerous route to North America. This was the era of sailing ships.
By 1850, Samuel had to move on to another tenancy. From visiting it became apparent that the family was on a downward slide. Each home was smaller, the land surrounding it was tiny, and the estate where they worked was not as prosperous as the former ones. It is no surprise that the family decided in 1851 to join Carl in Chicago.
But where in Chicago? Carl does not appear in the 1850 federal census. Samuel and family arrived after the census. I searched city directories for the time period but they are not found. I stopped at the Swedish Museum hoping their archive might hold some clues. Unfortunately the archivist was not in so I had to follow up with an email. Got a response that she was busy with setting up a new exhibit and would get back to me when she had time.
I then asked at the Chicago History Museum if they knew of Swedish churches in Chicago during that time period. There weren’t any as there were too few to form a congregation.
So, this mystery remains – where did they live and what did they do for the short window when they lived in Chicago?
What I did finally understand was why Samuel’s son, Samuel August Samuelson, volunteered as a Union Soldier and became a lifelong Republican (not to be confused with the current party’s belief systems). Samuel had experienced life as a child of a tenant farmer. He likely empathized with the enslaved which resulted in his joining the Civil War. I would never have figured this out unless I had stood in his former homes and saw for myself what the family had experienced.
Next week, I’ll write about another Swedish mystery that I’m still working on.
Try as I might to have a simple vacation the universe seems to plan weird and wonderful for me!
I’ve blogged before about the odd happenings when I go boots on the ground and my recent Swedish heritage trip to explore my husband’s roots was no different.
Our tour guides, Kris and Mangus, had stopped at one of my husband’s ancestral churches in Sjöhester which was supposed to be open but unfortunately was not. Husband and I were fine with the missed stop as we are used to being flexible when traveling. The guides, however, were disappointed.
Since there was no contact info for the church we went onward to the next stop. As Mangus drove up to the property, Kris excitedly remarked that there was a car in the driveway.
Now for my U.S. readers, I know this is shocking to you but in Sweden no one shoots you when you knock on their door or turn around in their driveway. Instead, they invite you inside. Yes, I realize they are letting perfect strangers into their homes but they are fine with that. We can all learn a lesson here!
We could see two large dogs, a lab and German shepherd, through the window but there was a lag between the knock and someone coming to the door so we didn’t expect the door to open. Open it did and Bo, seen above, appeared. Kris explained why we were at his property, explaining that Jim’s ancestors, Amund Jonsson (1655-1741) and Anna Nilsdotter (1672-1743) lived and raised their family there. This was two generations back from where I had ended my research so I knew nothing about this couple and their children.
Unbelievably, Bo knew all about them. For forty years he rented the cottage as a summer residence. Interested to know about former residents he had painstakingly researched them. He had even written a biography that was on his website.
He kindly invited us in and we sat around his kitchen table as Kris translated the family story. But of course, that’s not all…
Bo asked if we had visited the family church. Kris mentioned that it had been locked. Bo just happened to have the key. We agreed to meet him at the church the following day at 3 for a tour.
That’s not all – Bo mentioned he was glad we came when we did as he had just returned two days before for the summer. Originally, we had scheduled our trip for two weeks earlier but had to change due to my lecture schedule. If we hadn’t, we would have missed him, the opportunity to see the inside of the home, and probably the church, too.
Bo wasn’t the only individual to allow us to photograph their homes. Earlier that day in Sonarp, the birthplace of Maja Olofsdotter (1736-1826) the family invited us in the see their lovely home. The current owner remarked that the dining room always feels happy and I agreed. It was a beautiful bucolic setting; the family has farmed the land for five generations since they first rented in 1900. Sadly, the farmer’s father had been buried just two days prior to our visit with services held in the church where Maja had been baptized and likely married. The couple shared an old photo of what the farm had looked like back in the day – not much different from the present.
The Johannesson family of Närvehult also shared a photo of their home from 1921. Birger Ingesson (1715-1795) and Maria Borjesdotter (1722-1776) raised their family there. Birger and his son, Inge (1763-1843), were both once members of Parliament representing the region on behalf of farmers.
Current owner Stephanie of Hamburg, Germany, kindly let us photograph her spacious yard. In Kjölamälen, Inge Börjesson (1763-1843) and his wife, Margareta Eriksdotter (1765-1839), lived there with their children. It remained in the family for three generations and was the birth location of my husband’s great grandfather Anders L. G. Johannesson Johnson (1839-1906) who emigrated to the U.S.
In Hammershult, current owners stopped their yard work to allow us into the grain mill that Gudmund Svensson (1767-1814) and his wife Judith (1779-?) once operated. Their daughter, Sophia (1807-?) was born in the home on the property. We had no idea that there was a miller in the family!
Was is plain luck that all of these folks just happened to be home when we showed up unannounced or not? You decide!
I’m thinking we should add another reason to last week’s blog about why you must take a heritage tour – you meet the nicest people who are living their lives in the same place that your ancestor’s did. Celebrating birthdays, graduations, and new offsprings; mourning job losses, injuries, and deaths. It is an amazing experience to visit where your forefather’s experienced the cycle of life and if they hadn’t – you wouldn’t be here hunting their stories! Do plan a heritage trip to explore your ancestry.
Next Friday, 7:15 PM Eastern time, I, along with 6 other genealogists, will be presenting at the online only National Genealogical Society (NGS) conference. I am part of Rapid Roots: 7 Share Their Secrets in 7 Minutes. Please attend as I’ll be live for the Q&A – let’s chat!
Hubby and I are back from a world wind tour of Sweden, his ancestral homeland. The best way I can describe it was MAGICAL! Here’s why I think you need to plan a trip to your ancestral home:
Get to Know Your Ancestors – they are more than just names, dates, and places on a pedigree chart. In order to understand their lives you must follow in their footsteps. Considering their educational experiences, jobs, religion, home type, and climate will enhance your understanding of your family today. Have you stopped to think why your family eats a specific holiday meal? Visiting may unlock the mystery of your family’s customs.
Gain Historical Perspective – We didn’t learn the history of the countries our forefather’s left in school so we are lacking in understanding what made them tick. I had no idea that the Vikings roamed as far as Egypt and traded with the Greeks! Geez, my people were in Greece during that time period. I never considered that my people and my husband’s people could have possibly met 2000 years ago!
Unexpected Discoveries – It was news to me that in medieval times, brides in Sweden wore jeweled crowns maintained by the church. The custom has largely gone out of practice but in many churches, the crown remains. A kind church member allowed me to wear a crown that was likely worn by one of my husband’s several times great grandmothers. It is a tremendously memorable experience to bond with those from the past.
Connect With Others – I was able to meet up with an APG colleague I’ve only previously met virtually. We also met many homeowners and renters who were living in houses once inhabited by my husband’s family. So many wonderful ministers and parishioners took the time to provide us with the history of churches where family members had once attended. We greatly appreciated that they took the time to share their knowledge with us.
It Won’t Last Forever – It is amazing that structures have survived for centuries but that doesn’t mean they will always be there. Don’t let climate change steal your past from you! Taking photos will preserve the family story.
Make the Most of Your Trip – Although I am a professional genealogist I am not an expert in everything. Reaching out to other genealogists for help is vital. For our trip, we contracted with MinnesotaSwede.com. Kris and Mangus verified my research, extended it, and planned the day to day itinerary. They booked the hotels, arranged stops for food, picked us up and dropped us off at the airport, and drove us to 14 ancestral churches and over 20 ancestral sites in Östergötland and Småland. They also provided us historical background by visiting sites in Sigtuna and Stockholm, Sweden and in Copenhagen, Denmark. They are genealogy guides extraordinaire!
For my long time readers, you know wherever I roam the strange and unusual occurs. Sweden was no exception so next week I’ll be writing about those experiences.
Spring has sprung in the Midwest and last Saturday was the first cemetery walk of the year. The old cemetery in a small northeastern Indiana town held a plaque dedication ceremony. That was followed by portrayal of 10 notable families that were buried there.
It just so happened that the woman I was talking about was having her 153 birthday that day. She had been such a powerhouse locally in the late 1800s; upon her last illness, which kept in her bed with a nurse for 8 months, her many friends bought her fresh flowers daily. In keeping with that tradition and because it was her birthday, I brought a bouquet in remembrance.
Now is the time to plan your cemetery excursions for the next few months.
First, make a list of what cemeteries you hope to visit this year. Then, group them using Google Maps to make the most out of your trip.
Next, get into your shed, garage, basement, and make sure your tool are ready to go. I usually take a shovel to right a leaning headstone, garden gloves, a hand rake, small broom, and clippers. I personally like to use Krud Kutter, available at the big box stores.
Also to include are rags, water, and a bucket. The bucket makes a nice transport for all the items. Don’t forget bug spray! A garbage bag is also helpful to cart away dead leaves and clippings.
Now, look at your calendar, speak with family and friends, and try to convince someone to go with you. Sure, you can do it alone but in some cemeteries it’s safer to have a buddy.
Dress appropriately – you’ll be getting dirty, wet, and either hot or cold.
Fill up your gas tank, put the address in your GPS and head off. I like to bring a snack but if you aren’t going to be too far out from civilization you can always stop for lunch.
After you’ve cleaned the stone, make sure to take a picture. I upload mine to Findagrave.com, even if there already is a picture because the difference in stones over time is truly remarkable. It will be helpful if you can add GPS coordinates, too, as many of those are lacking on that site.
I’m off to Noble County for to present at the society’s annual conference. Hope to see you there!
Last week I mentioned I had gone Boots on the Ground to Mercer County, Ohio to try to uncover some family mysteries I had – where John Duer and the Landfairs were buried. Although I got closer, I hadn’t found the location yet.
I decided after spending the day in the library to stop by the courthouse to see if I could solve some other mysteries. The first was to try to pin down when Great Uncle Charlie Landfair left Mercer for Adams County, Indiana. He is my black sheep uncle and I am just intrigued with the things that man got away with. I am contemplating writing a book but I am far from extensive research for that.
I could tell by the looks on the 3 clerks’ faces how they felt when I showed up at 3:15 pm on a Friday afternoon asking for a divorce record I wasn’t sure existed for Charles and Rebecca Landfair sometime between 1885 and 1890. The clerks silently looked at each other so I volunteered that a crazy genealogist just had to show up late on a Friday afternoon, right?!
One clerk laughed and added that she was just getting ready to leave. That left two, neither of whom was excited about this task. The youngest got an old index from a backroom and began to look for a Landfair record. I was peeking over the counter and realized quickly she had the wrong volume. I knew this because I spied my great-grandmother’s name and the record I was searching for was 30 years earlier. I asked what years the volume contained and she told me to 1890. I then told her that wasn’t the right book. She turned to the front but no date was written. Ignoring me, she continued searching for the name.
The other clerk had heard me and asked how I knew it was the wrong volume. I replied my great-grandmother‘s name led me to believe this was a volume from about 1909. The second clerk told the younger clerk to go back and check the closet. Yep, here comes the correct volume, and Uncle Charlie was found quickly.
His name in the index was found quickly there was a new issue and that was no one wanted to go into the basement to retrieve the documents. From the numbers listed, it appeared that there were a lot of documents. I offered to leave my name, phone, and address in case they wanted to do this the following week but it seemed to me they never wanted to do this. I get it; if you aren’t a genealogist why in the world would you want to climb around a dusty dark basement to find a 130+-year-old piece of paper?
The second clerk informed the younger clerk where the documents would be in the basement and she reluctantly left. Meanwhile, the second clerk asked me why I wanted the documents.
I told her that, as a genealogist, I was fascinated with the man. I knew where his horses had been buried as he had special coffins made for them but he never bothered, as a physician, to fill out a death certificate for his second of four wives. He had gone to prison for malpractice but then been pardoned by a governor. He was a nasty alcoholic who happened to walk out of jail once and no one went after him, figuring it was safer to let him sleep it off wherever he went and bring him back in the following day. He claimed to have completed medical school in Cincinnati but even the state of Indiana felt that never occurred yet they continued to let him practice. And boy, did the townsfolks love him. He had a large and thriving practice.
By this time the young clerk had returned with no papers. She had a blank look on her face and kept repeating, “It’s a mess.” I assumed she meant the basement but it turned out she meant the court case. After repeating “It’s a mess,” several times she shook her head and said she’d have to give it to me at some later date. I then left my contact info.
As I left I asked if the courthouse held tax records between 1850-1860 as I wanted to find out when John Duer and family arrived. None of these records are online. I was told that microfilm was made years ago but they are held in Pennsylvania and no one can access them. The clerks told me to ask in another office.
I went downstairs and found the clerk with her head in her hands at her desk. I told her what I wanted and she asked why I needed the records. After explaining she said, “But they’re in the basement.” Here we go again…
She did agree to allow me to go down with her after obtaining the key from another room.
The basement was the neatest, cleanest basement I’ve ever been in! Metal shelves line the walls and down the center. There is adequate lighting. The maintenance man had a neat workroom there, too.
This clerk took me over to the north wall and pointed to a set of books marked Duplicates. She said they would contain a duplicate property record as the bill is due in April, say 1850, but the assessment was made in fall 1849. If the property was paid on time then it was denoted in the Duplicate books. She tugged at a volume, ripping part of the spine. I suggested we pull a volume out from the end of the shelf. Once it was out she told me she didn’t know how I was going to page through and I asked if I could take the volume to a table we had just passed. She hadn’t noticed it. We walked to the table, and she said, “Good luck” and quickly left.
I didn’t find the Duers but I found several other ancestors listed and took as many photos with my phone as I could before the battery died. I had taken way too many pictures that day at the library!
By the time I left the basement, she was not back in her office so I couldn’t thank her. What a treasure trove that basement was! I will definitely be back but next time I’m bringing hubby and a back up camera. So many ancestors, so little time.
And those divorce records…two weeks later I got a call that they found them but they couldn’t figure out how to copy them. I asked how they copy them for others and was told no one has ever asked for a copy before. I knew that wasn’t true as I had asked for my great-grandmother’s records several years ago. I suggested that they turn the book on the copier and get half a page at a time.
Later that day I got a call from another clerk in accounts who asked me for a credit card to charge my record request. I gladly gave her the numbers.
Keeping my fingers crossed that the documents arrive soon!
Editors. Mercer County, Ohio Cemetery Inscriptions Volume VI. Celina, OH: Mercer Co. Chapter OH Genealogical Society, 1990 found at Mercer County, Ohio Public Library in Celina.
While I was in Celina, Ohio, as I mentioned last week, I found another hint about John Duer. I had blogged twice this year about my search for his final burial site.
A year ago in June, in a book in Allen County Public Library, (Editors. Mercer County, Ohio Cemetery Inscriptions Volume VI. Celina, OH: Mercer Co. Chapter OH Genealogical Society, 1990, np.) I had discovered that he might lie in row 15 of Kessler Cemetery in Ohio. The transcription simply noted “John Duer, unreadable.”
Kessler’s trustee had years ago sent me a copy of their records but row 15 was missing. Both of John’s wives were buried at Kessler, along with some of his children, so it seemed logical that the book was noting his burial location.
My husband and I went out to the cemetery in March and found what we thought might be his grave but it wasn’t in row 15. The rows are not straight so it might have been, depending on how someone counted from the newer section. I thought it looked more like 14 but there was no stone in what I considered 15 so I could see how someone might interpret the rows differently. I was overjoyed anyway with the find.
Except, it wasn’t John’s burial place. When we returned in May with cleaning supplies it became apparent that it was for a child with the same name and who just happened to die the same year my John did. Sigh.
At the Mercer County Public Library, I found another book, and this transcription was clear about what was recorded on the stone in row 15. That stone is no longer standing in Kessler. You can see the top pic of the page.
What had me totally floored is that this book has the exact same title page as the one I found in the Allen County Public Library but the contents of the book differ. One must have been updated but it doesn’t note that anywhere in the volume I found in Celina. Here’s what the page looks like for the volume in Allen County Public Library:
At this point, I decided to call it a day at the library and I headed for the courthouse.
Meanwhile, this wish remains, too, but with every find I get closer to solving this mystery.
Next week I begin my Creepy October series. By the time that concludes I can’t wait to share my courthouse experience AND the weirdest identity theft I uncovered from 1891. Stay tuned.
Dr. Charles Landfair’s home once sat between the two trees in Bluffton, Indiana. Photo by Lori Samuelson
I’m positive you’ll laugh at how I ended up on a genealogical journey that was unintended.
My car needed service and I was asked to drop it off for the day. Since I no longer live close to the dealer my husband decided to follow me in his car. Our plan was to stop at a few stores and then return home, waiting for the mechanic to call to inform me that the work was done. Then, we’d go back and retrieve the vehicle.
Our first shopping errand was to purchase a few garden tools for a family member who was working and couldn’t take advantage of a very good sale. Unfortunately, the hoe was not available and the great computer in the clouds found only one, in a town called Bluffton, about an hour and a half from where we were.
My husband and I visited there last year when we were searching for a new home but hadn’t been back since. It’s on my list of places to research, however, and since there’s no time like the present, I thought I’d try to fit some research into my schedule.
I Googled the historical museum address as soon as we had the hoe in the trunk. Unfortunately, it’s only open on Sunday and Wednesday and it was Tuesday. Sigh. The next stop was the Wells County Public Library.
We arrived at the Genealogy Department on the second floor and were immediately assisted by Jason. I was totally unprepared – no thumb drive, no notes, not even a research question. I asked for any information on Dr. Charles Landfair who had resided in the city from the late 1800s to 1936, with a break for jail time in Michigan City.
Yep, Charles is one of my black sheep ancestors that I always wanted to learn more about. My father was quite proud of his great-uncle who had been a physician. What no one in the family conveyed to me was the character, or lack thereof, of the man known as Uncle Charlie.
Charlie had serious addiction issues and was a violent alcoholic. His patients loved him, though, and after his jail stint, re-established care with him as their doctor.
This fascinates me and I wanted to learn more about him and his brother, my great-grandfather, who shared many of the same characteristics as Charlie.
Jason readily asked me if I’d like a copy of the obituary which I believed I had. He helped me sign on to a computer so I could bring up my tree info as I was having difficulty seeing it on my phone. While I was doing that, Jason was looking on a microfilm index for newspaper records that aren’t available online. Small-town newspapers have the space and the knowledge of their community members so the articles provided me with much richer details of Charlie’s life. I hadn’t known he had first been a schoolteacher, where he attended and purportedly the date of his graduation from medical school, and other towns where he had practiced medicine. I had guessed which medical school he had attended, however, they had no record of him. Hmm, now that I have a graduation year I plan on rechecking with them.
Jason also found burial records that listed medical conditions I also hadn’t known about.
Jason didn’t stop there; I had the census records and therefore, addresses of Charlie’s home. Jason checked Sanborn maps and then helped me find the addresses by using Google Maps as he was aware that the addresses had changed since 1920-1930. The picture you see at the top is where the house, long gone, once was and where Charlie died. I confirmed with the business in that back that now owns the lot that was once the address I was searching for. Charlie lived right across the street from the Wabash River and what is now a city park. The business behind where the house stood was there when Charlie was alive and the founder likely knew his neighbor. After Charlie’s death, the neighbor purchased the lot and tore the home down as it is in a flood plain.
I wish I could get Jason a raise, as he is a valuable asset to the Bluffton Library, however, we all know that for some reason, money for pay raises for librarians and teachers is hard to come by. My blog today is to celebrate Jason and all those other librarians out there that work tirelessly and respectfully to those unprepared patrons who like I did, walk in looking for what they don’t even really know what they want. Thanks, Jason, I greatly appreciated your help!
And I can’t wait til the next time I need an oil change; no telling what genealogical discovery I’ll make.
What I thought was John Duer’s Tombstone in Kessler Cemetery
Last week I blogged about two gravestone preservation products I recently tried. After cleaning the stone I thought was for my third great grandfather, John Duer, I still couldn’t read more engravings on the stone than I had before I cleaned it.
The next step was to use the rubbing paper I had purchased and this is what I uncovered:
Still largely unreadable but I had a complete death date and age – 11 m 10 d. This was a tombstone for an infant and not my 3rd ggrandfather. Sigh.
The tombstone did have a memorial on Findagrave and by using the death date and the cemetery, I was able to read what I could not from the rubbing:
Photo courtesy of Cousin Becky on Findagrave.com
My goodness, has the tombstone deteriorated since 2008!
I’m glad to know the stone was saved on Findagrave before it became unreadable. You may have to use the technique I just described while visiting a cemetery and locating a stone you can’t decipher.
The question remains, Where is John Duer buried? Both of his wives are buried in Kessler as are some of his children. According to a text in the Allen County Public Library he was buried in row 15 but when the information was recorded, about 1987, the rest of the stone was unreadable. Kessler Cemetery’s records are incomplete and does not show him buried there.
One of my adult children who accompanied me pointed out that all of the older Duer adult stones on the south side have the same shape so we began looking for stones that matched but found none that said John Duer.
According to the 1987 book, he once had a stone but there was no description or picture of it. Perhaps it was a different John Duer as that name is used in each generation by everyone having children. Perhaps it was my John Duer and the stone was somehow destroyed between 1987 and 2007 when the Findagrave photos began to be taken. Perhaps he was never buried there.
All I know is that I’m back to square one! I went on Findagrave, removed the photo I had attributed to him, and left an explanation as to why.
Mary Kos’ Birthplace, Dubranec, Croatia. Photo courtesy of Google.
Last week I provided recommendations on best practices for using archives in other countries. This week I’m focusing on making the most when visiting your ancestor’s hometowns.
I always wanted to walk in the village my maternal grandmother had told me about when I was young. She had described the neighborhood church with its cemetery, a family garden, and her maternal side living in the next village.
My grandmother, Mary, emigrated with her mother, Anna, and younger brother, Joseph, in July 1913 when she was 12 years old. She would become a teen a week after arriving in the U.S. My great-grandfather had come 3 years earlier and settled in Chicago after crisscrossing the country working for the Pullman Company.
I had photos of the apartment where they lived in Chicago and the houses they rented and bought in Gary, Indiana, but I had no visual of the home she resided in as a child. Grandma had returned to visit Croatia in the summer of 1960 with her singing group, Preradovic. I have a picture of her with two village women, unnamed, who she said were cousins. Truthfully, Grandma called everyone cousins and she was probably correct as the village in which she was born had only 349 people in 2011. Her mother’s ancestral village, Jerebic, only had 41 people in 2011. If they weren’t cousins, they were called kum or kuma (godfather or godmother). Definitely supports the importance of Elizabeth Shown Mills’ FAN Club! With such small numbers, everyone was connected.
There were 99 houses in town, which one was Grandma’s? For that, I turned to a genealogical report written by Sanja Frigan for my second cousin in 2008. Sanja had gone to the local church and spoke with the priest who shared records. I was able to identify the location as house number 40. This was confirmed through the only FamilySearch.org Dubranec record for my grandmother – her baptism record shows the family living in house number 40. Through the Association of Professional Genealogists, I contacted fellow genealogistLidija Sambunjak to discover if house numbers were altered since the church record was made in 1900. I highly recommend contacting a local genealogist, historian, or archaeologist as they know details of communities that aren’t available online. Lidija was able to find the new house number. She also found a record that showed the home had been built by 1861 when a census had been taken. Lidija also discovered the home was now a tavern so there was a strong possibility I could go inside and even eat in the location my grandmother had taken her first bites of food!
Getting to Dubranec was an issue; it was outside the city limits of Zagreb so no bus was available. I could Uber/taxi but I didn’t want to just get dropped off. I needed a driver who could take me to all the places I wanted to see, wait while I explored for a bit, and answer questions that might arise from what I was seeing. I was not comfortable with renting a car as I was unfamiliar with the area and there were avalanche and flash flood warnings – not something I wanted to tackle on my own. Plus, I don’t speak Croatian well and a translator would be helpful.
Lidija recommended a colleague, Nikolina Antonić, who was a historian and archaeologist. We agreed on a price for the day and in our email exchanges, she shared with me her dissertation which just happened to be in the area my family resided. Finding a knowledgeable professional might take some time so start looking as soon as you book your trip.
I shared with Nikolina my family stories regarding defending a castle, building a church, going on a pilgrimage, and being titled a nobleman. Her dissertation was about the land records for the area beginning in the 1200s so she was an expert with location and history.
Nikolina met us at our hotel at 9 AM sharp. After reading her dissertation I had questions about how my family fit into the culture of those times. Her answers helped me put the records I had found the day before into perspective. Our first stop was a recreated home that would have been typical of a noble family. Although we couldn’t go inside, we were able to walk the grounds, peer in the windows and my husband found pottery shards in the freshly turned garden. Nikolina identified them as the late 1800s. A few days later we toured a castle in Bled and in the museum was an identical pottery piece labeled the late 1800s. It helped me imagine that my two times great-grandparents likely used a similar jug.
Our next stop was a recreated castle where my family tale says we fought off Turkish invaders. I’ll be writing more about this next week.
As we climbed the mountain through a forest I could visualize my ancestors hunting in the woods. It was breathtakingly beautiful – spring green leaves budding on the trees, a deep blue sky with puffy white clouds – a picture postcard.
The village Dubranec was larger than I expected. From the land records discovered the previous day I knew where some of my family’s property began and ended. The lots have been subdivided over the years and now, many more buildings were housed on what was once farmland. I was disappointed to find the home where my grandmother was born that had been turned into a tavern closed. A man walking down the street informed us that the owner had recently died. The picture at the top was from Google; the building has changed somewhat and for privacy, I am not displaying the photo I took.
Next, we went to the village Jerebeic where my great-grandmother’s family was from. It was about a 5-minute drive further up the mountain. The village was exactly what I had envisioned – all old wooden buildings. The well, unused now, was still there, roosters still roamed the yard, and hay was stored in the barn. I was surprised to learn that my family had been known for their vineyards and some very old plants still produced grapes. Which great grandfather had planted them I don’t know but I still have the recipes. We spoke to the farm’s present owner who knew it had once been owned by the Grdenic family. He kindly let me take photos.
Back down the mountain, our next stop was Our Lady of the Snows Roman Catholic Church. The earthquake had damaged the structure so we could not go inside. I was shocked to see the cemetery intact and with just a few older stones. I learned that rental needs to be paid annually and when it is not received, after a time, the body is dug up, the bones collected, and placed in a group grave. Nikolina was not sure what happened to the old tombstones. The beautiful day had turned rainy and with thunder and lightning overhead, we did not stay long among the graves. I plan on writing to the current priest to obtain more information.
We then drove miles to visit Marija Bistrica, a pilgrimage site. On our way, we saw a group of pilgrims with walking sticks making their way to the church high on a mountaintop. I’ll write more about my great-grandmother’s reason for the pilgrimage next week. I was amazed to see how far she walked over such difficult terrain. I know I come from a strong line of females but this discovery really surprised me.
It was time to return to our hotel as our Gate1 tour was meeting that evening. I will never forget this emotional experience and I believe I would not have gained such insight into my family’s background had it not been for Nikolina’s expertise.
If you are planning an excursion to your ancestor’s home turf, do your research first, then check out transportation options, and hire a guide who is familiar with the area’s history. Although most people in Europe speak English, if you are going to a rural area it is best if you have someone who can translate for you. Don’t forget your camera or phone charger!
Next week I’ll be giving you some tech tips for your ancestral experience.
