Month: September 2016

From the City…

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1880s- Henry and Martha Cook Keys family

1880s- The Henry and Martha Cook Keys family lived in Hackney, Middlesex, England

This is one of the older photos that I have.  But I don’t really ‘have’ it.  All I have is this scan of a copy of a photo that was printed in a book from around 1980.  It’s great to have that much because despite it being a copy of a copy (of a copy?), there are still some interesting details in it.  It’s from Edith Keys Segraves’ book “Cook-Keys Family: Two Centuries in England and America.”  One of these days I’m going to track down some of those old photos, get a good scan of them, retouch them, and share them with everyone.  Til then, this is what you get!

The year is around 1880 or so.  The country is England.  The family is the the Cookie family.  Not really.  That’s the name I think of when I read the title of Edith Segraves’ book.  But the Cook-Keys connection started here.  At least for our family.  When our ancestors Henry Keys married Martha Cook on Nov. 8, 1869, the Cook-Keys connection had already been started eight years earlier.

Martha’s sister Henrietta had married Henry’s brother William in 1861 and they had eight children together.  Henry and Martha had five children by 1881 – Henry Alfred, Leonard, Daisy, Ruth, and Mabel.  From the few examples I’ve seen, I would assume that these two families would have been close.  All of their kids had the same grandparents, were double first cousins, and probably looked similar.  And Martha and Henrietta were the only two children in the Cook family.  Their father had died in 1840 when Martha was three years old and Henrietta was six months old, so that would likely have made them closer as well.

Yet that didn’t keep them together.  When Martha’s husband Henry died in 1886, it wasn’t but a year later that she moved herself and her five young children to America.  To be accurate, Martha didn’t break the families apart.  One of Henrietta’s sons was already living in Delaware County, Iowa, at that time. (Funnily enough, the Bucklin family had lived in that same county earlier in the 1880s.  A generation later, the Bucklin and Keys families connected as well.)  And I’ve mentioned before that Martha’s uncle William Horsnell had recently moved from Iowa to the exotic locales of southern Louisiana.

Look at that photo again.  It looks like a pretty nice place to live.  Nice sturdy buildings and a charming little side patio enclosed with an iron fence.  It was a civilized place to live.  They had venetian blinds in the window!  If that doesn’t say civilized, I don’t know what does!  But Martha had heard of some criminal activities in nearby areas and decided it was time to move on.  So in June of 1887, she brought her children to London during the week of Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee and on the 27th boarded them onto the ship Aurania heading for the New World.

1887-New York passenger list

1887 – A page from the passenger list of arrivals in New York in July 1887. Top of the list starts with Martha A(nn) Keys, Henry A(lfred), Leonard J., Daisy H(enrietta), Rosetta R(uth), and Mabel O. Destination shown as Louisiana.

Alcide the Great

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1890 - Simon Alcide Joseph Landry

Alcide Landry circa 1890

I think I have shared a photo of all of my other greats before.  This is Simon Alcide Joseph Landry, my paternal great grandfather.  You can call him Alcide the Great if you want to, but Alcide will do.  He was born in Brusly, Louisiana, in 1845.  His father’s name was Narcisse and they lived on a plantation.  When the Civil War started, he was too young to join, but his brothers did join.  I’ve talked about one of his brothers – Trasimond – because he was my great great grandfather.  There were two other brothers that fought in the Civil War – Amedee and Belisaire.

When Alcide turned eighteen in the summer of 1863, he joined in on the fighting two months later in Alabama.  He fought in several battles there, in Atlanta, and in Nashville.  He was captured at Hollow Tree Gap in December of 1865.  He then spent time as a prisoner of war at Camp Douglas which was located in what is now Chicago, Illinois.  What I find amazing is that all of the four brothers that fought in the Civil War survived through all of those battles.

After the war he married Marie Celeste Leveque (his half first cousin once removed – his grandfather Joseph Ignatius Landry was her great grandfather).  They had ten children together, the last being Robert Joseph Landry, Sr. my grandfather. At some point in the 1880s the family moved to Westlake in Calcasieu Parish.  He and his wife are buried in Lake Charles at Orange Grove Cemetery.

An interesting note about grandfathers in this line.  Here is the Landry line going back – Van, Bob, Rob, Alcide, Narcisse, Joseph Ignatius, Augustin, Pierre, Antoine, and Rene.  My paternal grandfather Robert Joseph, Sr. died before I was born.  Daddy‘s paternal grandfather Alcide died in 1917, which is 12 years before Daddy was born.  Narcisse died before Rob was born.  Joseph Ignatius died before Alcide was born, and Augustin died before Narcisse was born.  And finally we get back to Pierre who was considerate enough to stick around for 33 years after Joseph Ignatius was born.  This is mostly a result of being in a line of latter born children.

Gunnysack Dresses

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1941-Phenice Family

Front and back of photo from circa 1941. Girls in gunnysack dresses?

Ever since I was a kid I remember my mom talking about how she and her sisters would make their dresses out of old flour sacks.  I felt so sorry for her.  I thought that it must have been really uncomfortable.  And it must have been particularly depressing to go to school like that when there had to have been other kids with store-bought clothes made out of real cloth.  How could we possibly complain about anything when she suffered through such depravity?

Then one day about two or three years ago, she was talking about those dresses made out of flour sacks again.  She was saying how she liked to be the one to ride into ‘town’ and pick out the best prints for the dresses she was thinking about making.  I was like, “What are you talking about?  Flour sacks don’t have prints on them.”  She looked at me like I was crazy.

“Why are you asking about that?” she asked, “I’ve told you about that several times.”  I went on to say that I had heard her before, but I never knew burlap bags ever had any prints on them.  Maybe something like “FLOUR – 40 LBS” or some such label.  Then she knew I was crazy.  “Burlap bags?  How do you get that from flour sacks?” she asked.

I told her that that was what I’ve always pictured when she told us this story.  And it wasn’t just me.  My sisters Karen and Jamie also thought the same thing. (They may deny it now, though!)  We all got a kick out of this misunderstanding.  They both shared an article about the topic a while back on Facebook.  It explained the whole phenomenon and talked about how in the early 40s over three and a half million women and children were wearing garments made from feedsacks.

I’m thinking that the photo I’m posting today may be showing a part of that history.  It’s from the right era.  I’m not really sure, but it looks like a possibility to me.  The dresses all look somewhat simple and each one is made from comfortable looking cloth of a single type of print.  I really didn’t notice the dresses when I first decided on using this photo for my post.  When I was editing the photo, the prints of the dresses caught my attention and reminded me of the discussion with my mom.

I picked the photo out because there is that homespun charm about it.  I’m posting the photo unedited at first and including the back of it.  There’s an oil spot on the front that shows on the back also.  I’m not sure what caused that.  But on the back of the photo a child’s handwriting has labeled everyone in the photo.  Then on the top right corner in my mom’s handwriting, it reads “taken by Betty with 1st camera.”  How sweet is that.  Little Betty Lou taking a photo of her mom’s family with her first camera.  On the far left is my grandmother Myrtle AKA Grandma.

1941-Phenice family

Front: Myrtle, Marguerite, Grace, Daisy, and Harry Phenice Back:Warren, Henry, Sylvan, and Orville

I’m also posting an edited version of the photo.  That’s what I do.  Clean it up a bit.  Remove the scratches.  Remove the dust.  Remove the charm.  Wait, did I say that?  Yes, I did.  That’s why I decided to post both versions.  I think the cleaned up version looks better, but the original has more charm.  I don’t think that’s the case most of the time, but sometimes I do wonder.  Not enough to make me stop though.

 

Entanglements

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Mee Maw and Pee Paw circa 1956

Mee Maw and Pee Paw circa 1956

I had a realization yesterday.  And it seems like something I should have noticed earlier.  It seems like I talk about it all of the time.  And I’m sure my dad must have talked about it too.  As you all know, my Mee Maw and Pee Paw were related to each other.  They were first cousins once removed.  If you don’t like removing people, Robert Joseph Landry, Sr. married his first cousin’s daughter Germaine Erie Patureau.

“So they were cousins,” you say, “what’s the big deal?”  Maybe that’s not what you’d say, but growing up in our family that seemed to have been the attitude.  People have a different attitude now.  “Cousins who kiss now are parted” is the line from my musing on the situation a few years ago.  But it’s not just that they are related – and here is the big realization – everyone that is/was related to Pee Paw is/was related to Mee Maw.

Think about that.  You have cousins from your mom’s side and from your dad’s side.  Most of the time the two sides are not related to each other.  And if you happened to be married to your 2nd cousin (heaven forbid!) you would share one of your four sets of great grandparents.  That would still leave three quarters of your ancestry different from your partner.

But in my grandparents’ case, it’s a bit more entangled than that.  Pee Paw’s father was the brother of Mee Maw’s grandfather.  So Pee Paw’s paternal grandparents were Mee Maw’s great grandparents.  That takes care of half of Pee Paw’s ancestors- they are also Mee Maw’s ancestors.  With the maternal side of Pee Paw’s family it was a generation further back.  As a tool, I’ll use the chart that my dad made of all of his ancestors in a circular pedigree chart.  Many of you will recognize it from the many times he talked about family history at reunions and get-togethers. Maybe some of you listened more closely and have already heard about this ‘realization’ that I’m trying to explain.

My dad’s genealogy chart.

If you look at the chart with its helpful color coding, you can barely see a dotted green outline on the lower left quadrant (that I shaded green).  That is the ancestry that I was just talking about – ancestors of Simon Alcide Landry.  It matches with the right side (Mee Maw’s side) starting at due east (on the right) down to southeast (shaded green to match).  Those are the ancestors of Jean Trasimond Landry (Alcide’s brother and Mee Maw’s grandfather).  These are the common ancestors that make them first cousins once removed.

Alcide was married to Marie Celeste Leveque, whose parents were Auguste Leveque and Basalite Landry.  Both Auguste and Basalite had a sister that were ancestors of Mee Maw.  Therefore Auguste’s parents and ancestors (shown in the tan color section) are also ancestors on Mee Maw’s side of the family.  You can see the peach section repeated on her side on the lower right side.  This represents the Leveque connection and they were second cousins twice removed due to this connection.  But then Basalite’s parents and ancestors (shown in the yellow sections) are also on both sides of the family.  This is another Landry connection and Mee Maw and Pee Paw were second cousins once removed due to this connection.

So, like I said earlier, all of Pee Paw’s relatives are/were relatives of Mee Maw as well.  The reverse is not true, though.  Mee Maw has a few distinct family lines that are not included on Pee Paw’s side.  Mainly the Patureau line that came from France in the 1840s.  It’s difficult to find someone related through just the Patureau line, because in our family there were three generations in a row that married into the Landry line, which is what brought us to the situation we now have.

The other distinct line leads back to another Landry.  We get our last name from Rene “the younger” Landry and he shows up several times from all of the intermarriages.  But Rene “the older” only shows up once.  His daughter didn’t believe in marrying cousins.  Imagine that!  But alas, Rene “the older” really isn’t the only connection to the Landry line he represents.  There is another member of that Landry line that we descend from – his sister Antoinette.  Somehow that is not surprising.

In the second paragraph of this post I referred to a poem that I wrote a few years ago.  I thought I’d post my whole poem here for the sake of those who had not seen it before. It explains (in a way) how I am my own third cousin once removed. I wrote this on June 24 & 25, 2005 when my obsession at the time was limerick writing.

 

Me, Myself and I

My third cousin once removed did
Take over my life and then hid.
He’s inside my head
But if he were dead,
It would kill both my ego and id.

You see that third cousin is me.
I’ve climbed around my family tree.
I must be part monkey
Or just info junkie,
I swing through the branches with glee.

Some interesting things I discover.
The lines of descent I recover
Appear more than twice.
Well, isn’t that nice.
At least I am not my own brother.

It seems that my grandfather wed
His first cousin’s daughter and bred.
For they had eight kids
And one of them did
Wed mom and you know where that led.

It must have been Cajun tradition
Or kids with a lot of volition.
Whatever the cause,
It didn’t give pause.
It happened despite admonition.

I am my own fifth cousin too.
And no I don’t live in a zoo.
But all this inbreeding
And some genes repeating,
Should lead to a head number two.

And then I’d have room for my cousins.
I know there’s at least a half dozen.
Though they are all me,
I’d set a few free,
Cause we are not kissin’ but fussin’.

We fight over who gets to drive
Who’s out first when we all arrive.
Who gets the last piece,
Who pays on the lease,
It’s worse than most husbands and wives.

I wonder how all this got started,
Cause cousins who kiss now are parted.
To stop a mutation
Or my situation
Where cousins blame me when they’ve farted.

Of course they have done much worse things,
Like knocking that boy from the swings.
They kicked my dear sister
And stole that transistor.
What mischief these cousins can bring.

But one is the absolute worst
It’s him that I mentioned at first.
I’m sure it was him
That burned down the gym.
When mom asked us why, he just cursed.

I guess he’s the strongest, cause he
Is closest relation to me.
He’s really quite tiring
And gets me perspiring.
I wish he’d get lost in my tree.

Hello, it’s ol’ third cousin here.
I’m here to bring fun and good cheer.
Ignore boring Van.
He’s spineless and bland.
With a “Boo” he just runs off in fear.

He blames me for everything bad.
But accidents happen. So sad.
If I don’t come out
And rampage about,
In a very short time I’ll go mad.

Who cares if I mock the deceased?
Or my share of work is the least?
At times I relent,
But I won’t repent.
I’ll laugh if you call me a beast.

 (Shut up. Now get back in your place.)
Forgive me for that show of face.
He looks just like me
But as you can see,
He’s lacking in wits, style, and grace.

And now I must leave you alone.
A state that I never have known.
So check out your tree,
Particularly
To reveal who’s in your skin and bones.

The Cows All Come a Runnin’ With a Moo!

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1949 - Betty Lou charming the cows with Papi

1949 – Betty Lou charming the cows with Papi

For several years now, I’ve been sharing stories of the Adventures of Jacko.  As everyone knows, they are stories about the travels of me and my wonderfully charming sock monkey Jacko.  In the travelling song that Jacko and his mentor/grandfather Papi wrote, it mentions my mom and the fact that she used to play her baritone out in the fields of Hathaway until the cows would come.

I didn’t know that she had a photo of this until quite recently.  She has talked about her serenading activity for as long as I can remember.  I don’t know why she didn’t mention this photo or show it to me.  I mentioned this to Papi and he said he couldn’t imagine why his old Buddiloo never showed me this photo.

“Of course,” he said, “back then we didn’t see photos as soon as we took them.  But I do remember seeing it once.  I titled it ‘Nature Girl.'”

“‘Nature Girl’?” I asked, “Why did you call it that?”

“Well,” he said, “it was around the same time that Nat King Cole’s song ‘Nature Boy’ was playing on the radio.  That was really exciting.  Radio was one of the rare conveniences that we had out in the country.  There certainly wasn’t any air conditioner, so when Buddiloo would practice her horn, she liked to go outside.  She played all kinds of songs, but the one that the cows liked best was ‘Nature Boy.’  And every time they showed up, they said the same thing.”

“Of course they did,” I said.  “Mama always said they would moo at her when they showed up and it made her laugh.”

“Yes, sometimes she could be a silly girl.  It’s what I love the most about her.  But those cows kept trying to tell her something and she never listened.  I, of course, listened to them attentively.  I am a cow whisperer,” he said with more than a little pride.

“So what was it that they said?” I asked. “Were they making requests for different songs?  Or maybe for a different instrument?  Like a trombone?   Surely not a clarinet?!”

“No, no, none of that,” he said with a scowl.  “I see you inherited more than a little bit of silliness from your mom.”

“Whatever,” I said, “Just tell me what the cows said.”

“Okay, but it would be better if I sang it for you.  Since ‘Nature Boy’ was the song that they were drawn to, I decided to put the message into my own words for the song,” he explained.  “I call it ‘Nature Girl,’ hence the title of the photo.  It goes like this.”

He then started singing the song with a haunting melody.  It really was quite moving.  Here are the words:

Nature Girl

There was a girl, a very sweet and charming girl.

She liked to play her baritone all alone in the fields each day.

Her monkey friend would give a grin.

When she’d start to play.

And then one morn, a magic morn she played that horn.

And all the cows they gathered round.  Stood their ground.

This they said to her:

“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn

is grass tastes great, but when brown it can burn.”

After sitting a while stunned by his performance, I shook myself back to alertness and asked,”Wait, does that mean that brown grass burns in the stomach or that it can catch fire?”

“Silly boy,” he said, “what is hay?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said sheepishly.

“If there are still any doubts in your mind about the answer to your question,” he continued, “just mention the words ‘grass fire’ to a herd of cattle.  It’s the quickest way to start a stampede.  When they would say the same thing over and over to Buddiloo, there was always a look of fear in their eyes.

“Now if there are any more questions, they can wait.  Jacko and I are going to the other room to watch a movie.  You can join us if you like…as long as you bring popcorn.”  At that he was off.

So that, my friends, is the story of this week’s photo.  Straight from the monkey’s mouth.