MISSING LINKS: RootsWeb's Genealogy Journal Vol. 4, No. 53, 29 December 1999, Circulation: 377,281+ (c) 1996-99 Julia M. Case and Myra Vanderpool Gormley Editor-at-Fault: Julia M. Case Co-Editor-to-Blame: Myra Vanderpool Gormley, CG RootsWeb HelpDesk: Advertising: Public Relations/Press: IN THIS ISSUE: o Welding Links Via WorldConnect o Food, Glorious Food! (Part 2 of 2) o Home for the Holidays o Nina: A Mystery o Humor o Reprint Policy, Back Issues, How to Subscribe/Unsubscribe * * * * * WELDING LINKS: WELDING LINKS VIA WORLDCONNECT by Myra Vanderpool Gormley, CG To stay young and healthy, keep learning. That's what the medical experts keep telling us. Of course, family historians have already figured this out because genealogy is an ever- learning process and look how young we all are. This hobby gives the old gray matter plenty of workouts as we try to find, identify and untangle the twigs, branches, and roots of our family trees. WORLDCONNECT, a popular GEDCOM-based project launched by RootsWeb.com, is an incredible new (and free) finding aid. Through it, in just a couple of months, I have located several new cousins -- descendants of siblings of my ancestors -- who have provided me with new information. Additionally, I have been able to share some of my research. However, despite the many marvels of this electronic age, technology cannot think for us. It makes it easier to find each other and share information, but we still have to use our noggins and sift through the chaff to find the wheat. An example of the challenges facing us turned up when I went exploring for information on Charlemagne after a reader informed me he had uploaded a large GEDCOM of royal and "Mayflower" lines. I have no royal or noble lines, and am somewhat awed by those who can make legitimate links to ancient pedigrees of medieval Europe. A cursory search for "Charlemagne" at WORLDCONNECT turned up 63 results, and of those all but one apparently pertain to the most influential king in Europe in the Middle Ages. Another search on the Web turned up a great deal of historical and genealogical material about him, including the fact that he was born before his parents were married. When I went back to compare the genealogical files I saw several discrepancies: -- His date of birth is given as 2 April 747 by several, while 2 April 742 is listed by the majority. All the historical sites and encyclopedia references I found give only the year 742 or circa 742, while a couple of genealogical sites give the complete date. -- His place of birth (listed as unknown by historians) is listed by genealogists variously as: Aachen, Ingelheim, Ingolheim, and Aix-la-Chapelle. Ingelheim is listed as being in Rhinehessen, Hesse-Darmstadt, Rheinland, Prussia, Deutschland, and Carolingian. Since I knew several of these localities did not exist by those names in 742, I went scurrying to gazetteers and atlases (online and offline). The city of Aachen (now located in Nordrhein-Westfalen, Germany) is thought to be the birthplace of Charlemagne. Aachen in French is Aix-la-Chapelle. At the time of his birth this would have been part of the area called Austrasia in the Frankish Kingdom. Localities should be entered in our databases as they were at the time of the event, not where they are now. Charlemagne's date of death is given as 28 January 813/14 by many genealogists, while the historians record it as 28 January 814. I am puzzled by the use of double dating since it was only used in the 16th to 18th centuries in conjunction with the changing from the Julian calendar (Old Style) to Gregorian calendar (New Style), starting in 1582 in Venice and eventually in Great Britain and its colonies in 1752. The Julian calendar would have been the one used in the 9th century, and January 1 was the first date of its year, so why the double date? While examining many files, I looked closely at one I had posted at WORLDCONNECT and discovered that my software has converted a "meeting locality" of a couple into a marriage place for them -- presenting completely inaccurate information. I rechecked my notes and original entries, and they are correct, so it is a glitch in the way certain parts of the data are being handled by the GEDCOM. You might want to take a closer look at your own posted data and, of course, be careful about accepting any and all information you find. Electronic databases are wonderful tools, but they are just finding aids -- not sources, and they may or may not be accurate. Humans and machines both make errors. **PAID ADVERTISEMENT** Q: What's blue, great to have on your desk, and FREE? A: Handy stamps -- ideal for return addresses! 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Find your old high school friends on ClassMates.com -- your 24-hour, 7-day-a-week online class reunion. * * * * * FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD! (Part 2 of 2) by Ronald Caseby Chichester, West Sussex, PO19 4DN KFHS No. 6796 Food parcels came to us from Texas, America, which were covered in thick cloth and stitched with string and their arrival brought much joy, luxury to our diet, and activity in the kitchen. These much welcomed but all too occasional parcels contained goods like tins of Spam, corned beef, pineapple and condensed milk, milk powder, chunky bars of confectionery chocolate, peanut butter, packets of cake frosting or pancake mixes. Also included in colorful illustrated packaging were fruit jelly crystals, powders to make fizzy drinks, desiccated coconut, marzipan, a slab of solid fruit cake and a big lump of what looked like coal. The "coal" was in fact dehydrated beef. Sometimes there was also a selection of dried fruits such as plums, figs, dates, bananas and grapes, chopped nuts, and several small packets of fruity tasting "polo-mint"-shaped sweets call "Life Savers" or "Refreshers." There was always an enclosed letter from the sender and although appreciative thank you letters were sent I cannot recall any resulting correspondence. Sometimes there were fat and colorful comics used in the wrapping by the thoughtful donor and these were avidly read and exchanged amongst all the children in the village. The parcel's cloth covering and securing strings were carefully recovered, cleaned and used for other purposes, such as boiling "clootie" dumplings, which were a must for birthdays and all festive occasions. What fun that was for the gooey liquid soap had to be bailed out of the copper boiler in the outside wash- house, then the giant copper had to be removed and swilled clean. Next it was half-filled with water and a fire started in the grate underneath. Then the precious and carefully saved flour, beef suet, spices, treacle and sugar together with the dried fruits, condensed milk and egg powder that came in the food parcel, were mixed together with an enormous wooden spoon in a great bowl and all we children were allowed to have a final stir, and taste, before making a secret wish. Finally, silver 3 shilling pieces wrapped in greaseproof paper were added and then the glutinous mixture was put into the cloth (or "clootie") tied with string to make a round shape. It was then suspended by string hanging around the clothes posser in the bubbling copper. There it boiled for about two hours making delightful smells all the while. What joy to have a steaming slice with custard, to chew the tasty outside thick skin and to be lucky enough to find a silver 3d piece into the bargain. Father, always the joker, was usually the first to find a 2/6d piece in his portion and it was years before I discovered it was "one he had prepared earlier" and produced by sleight of hand. Dad would pretend he had swallowed something and was choking. Then after a last mighty cough he contrived to have coin appear from his right ear! This find always set me to polishing off every delicious morsel in the hope of having similar luck! There was always enough dumpling left for another meal when it was fried in bacon fat to become all crispy on the outside and took on a whole new flavor and taste on the inside. There were also treats to be made for birthdays from the other parcel "goodies." There were sweets like prettily-decorated sponge cakes with butter icing, fairy cakes, coconut ice, peppermint lumps, condensed milk hard vanilla tablet, fruity fudge, toffee apples, nutty toffee, puff candy, fruit and nut chocolate crunches. Also molded were marzipan and fudge slabs which were reshaped into small fruits. These were realistically painted with food dyes. Other treats included dates and fruit slices enrobed in chocolate, chewy Turkish delight and fizzy drinks such as American Cream Soda. The dried egg powder was made into runny scrambled eggs. The Spam was mashed with boiled potatoes to extend it. Both of these concoctions used with lettuce to fill bridge rolls, or to be piled on small toast portions in different shapes cut out with pastry cutters and made to look attractive with slices of radish. There were colorful arrangements of cooked vegetables galantined in aspic crystals which made an exciting and filling centerpiece to any party table. Never to be forgotten in my memories were the tasteless wobbly rabbit-shaped thick gritty chocolate custard molds surrounded by chopped green grass jelly, which had a harsh citric acid aftertaste. Lastly, but by no means least, I remember the magical bowls of trifle made from successive layers of sponge cake fingers, diced pineapple, different colored jellies, yellow custard, some sort of cream made from whipped condensed milk and topped with hundreds-and-thousands. No party was complete without its trifle. Other treats came from the seashore where we could collect winkles and whelks, boil then in a can, and fish out the delicious morsels with a safety pin. The same pin with a raw winkle on it and attached to a long bit of string could catch a small crab from amongst the rocks at high tide and it made a tasty snack when boiled. Wild duck's eggs were also sometimes available and, although they tasted very fishy when fried on an old shovel, they were a challenge to our self-catering skills. I was taught how to do fishing and cooking either by my four older brothers, or by the gypsies who often camped near the village tennis courts, by the Quoits green at the east end of Newmills village. Our Romany friends also invited us out to try other delicacies such as hedgehogs, rabbit, or conger eels covered in clay and baked with big potatoes in the ashes of an open fire. The potatoes I willingly tried, but nice as the other foods smelled I could never bring myself to try them. My friend, Bobby Talbot, had a mother who was a super cook and never better than when she was making potato chips in beef fat or sausage sandwiches with lots of onions and mustard in them. I always wished to taste her cooking because of the tempting smells but was never invited to join Bobby for tea with his younger brother Jimmy. When the circus came to town, Jimmy, hand-in-hand and safe with his big brother Bobby, went to sit on the front wall of the Cooperative Society at the foot of the steep hill west of the village center. I was not allowed to join in this parade excitement as we had distant relatives visiting us that day and my presence and that of all the family was required for the special high-tea we were all to enjoy. Bobby's and Jimmy's purpose was to watch the fairground equipment vans struggle up the steep slippery cobbled hill when wedges had to be continually shifted forwards as the heavy loads proceeded upwards. Unfortunately, one of the men slipped and did not place a restraint in time and the van rolled swiftly back to crush Jimmy instantly to death -- still holding Bobby's hand. The Talbot family was housed in very cramped accommodation and so Jimmy was laid out for the family and friends to visit in the living room at the front of the Manse, next to Dad's study and adjoining my bedroom and that of two of my brothers. This was the first time I really had to face death and I could not grasp why the naturally happy, bright and lively and ever-smiling Jimmy was so still and white. After the funeral I was often asked in for tea and I imagine that for Mrs. Talbot I was taking her loved Jimmy's place. In those days the local Roadman would carve various notches on the curb stones to show where there had been accidents and to tell of their seriousness. I suppose this was a timely warning to pedestrians and was constantly used by parents to instruct children on road safety. I wonder if there is still a death notch for Jimmy outside that red sandstone-faced shop at the foot of the once stone-cobbled Newmills "brae." This story has a sequel. In 1998, the Dunfermline Millennium Project was developing nicely all but for one thing -- a Dutch oven used by most Scottish bakers before about 1950 and for at least 300 years. The project was to build a small village into a living museum such as the homes, shops and businesses which honored sons like Andrew Carnegie would have known. I offered my knowledge of "Batty" Makin's bakery to the Project Directors. The shop was now a butcher's one run by a Mr. Knox. Mr. Knox spoke to me by telephone from some 500 miles away to tell me I was wrong and that the oven was gone. Then when I explained that his shop was level with the main road but had a 45-degree slope down to the bakery at the left-hand side, he realized that there was more to his premises than he realized. A few days later he phoned to say the Dutch oven had been found intact. A few weeks later he told me that it had been removed and built into the Dunfermline Museum. I said that Mr. Jonnie Knox, the village chemist who had owned all the shops in my youth, would have been proud to know that a namesake had been so helpful. The butcher was flabbergasted. His father and he had been trying without success to find a John Knox, a chemist, who was a great-uncle missing from their family tree for more than 60 years. From all the details I was able to give him he then knew that every day for the past 20 years he had been working only a few feet away from the relation he sought. I was also able to tell my new friend that his relation and his wife had no issue and had bought, retired to, and died in the Manse, Newmills, where I was born, and where all the above "food" events took place. [Editors' Notes: Part 1 is available in file 19991222.txt at . A reader questioned the reference to the author's 1954 ration book. Caseby responds: "[M]y last ration book was dated 1954. Although ration books were discontinued toward the end of 1954 many foods and other goods continued to be rationed by (a) shopkeepers trying to be fair to clients, (b) even more limited supply to remoter areas of the country, and (c) their cost, which was beyond people with below average incomes." Another reader questioned a reference to the river Thames rising in the town of Thame, to which Caseby responds: "The little aside about the source of the Thames is one of those `local pride' things about where the Thames rises. The tiny river Thame, which runs through the very soggy town of Thame, joins the much bigger Isis which runs through Oxford, wending around the wonderful buildings and colleges about eight miles south of Oxford at Dorchester where the river then becomes known as the Thames. It is quite unclear from the maps where the Isis ends and where the Thames begins, all thanks to those Irish Ordinance Engineers making our triangulated `accurate' to a few inches maps, but who found it difficult to understand `posh' English accents. Hence the local joke, to stir up those who believe otherwise, that the Thames rises in Thame."] * * * * * HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS by Gloria Pattinson In Fife, Scotland, in the early 1960s my mother was left on her own to bring up three small children. She was determined not to be a burden on the state and worked herself into the ground, holding down three badly paid part-time jobs, to ensure we had enough money to get by. Unfortunately, her meager income did not run to such luxuries as holidays, so her one concession to accepting help from the authorities was to allow us three kids to spend two weeks each year at a local children's holiday home, run by Fife County Council. St. Michael's Children's Home was near St. Andrews, about 30 minutes by car from our modest Council house in Methilhill, but to us it seemed like a very long journey indeed. It appeared to be set in the middle of nowhere -- off a very quiet road, which was thickly lined on either side by young sapling pine trees. St. Michael's Home housed about 20 underprivileged children at a time and had a large fenced playground, where we would play "Cock-Robin," "Pauldies" (a type of hopscotch), "Rounders," or "Kick the Can." The home itself was made up of a group of buildings: a playroom which doubled as a schoolroom in the mornings (lessons were not neglected, despite the fact that we were on holiday); two large dormitories lined with about 10 small beds in each; a laundry; and the main building -- Matron's house, which housed the staff quarters and kitchen. As a special treat each Sunday, we were all allowed to cram into Matron's sitting room to watch a small black and white television for just one hour and Matron would join us with a huge bag of sweets which would be shared around. Each day the staff would take us on long walks through the young pines to the seashore about a mile away, where we would exhaust ourselves running on the beach, or skimming stones across the waves. On cold days they would organize games like "Blind Man's Buff" indoors. My brothers and I have many happy memories of holidays spent there each year, until Mum decided that we should have the opportunities of the big city, and we moved 500 miles south to live in London. My brothers and I now have families of our own, but two years ago, with mother in her mid-70s and fairly frail after suffering a couple of strokes; we decided to take her on a holiday to Scotland to visit old friends and take a trip down memory lane. We had all but forgotten St. Michael's Children's Home until, driving down a long country road lined with very tall pine trees on either side, something felt familiar. Sure enough, we came upon Matron's house, now transformed into a small country house hotel. The dormitories were gone and there was no sign of the playroom, but we decided to stop and ask about the recent history of the building. When we explained our memories to the new owners, they were delighted to show us around. They had bought the hotel just a few years ago, but believed the children's home had been sold by the council and converted to a six-bedroom hotel in the mid-1980s. Coming upon it by chance brought back many memories and it was one of the highlights of our trip. Sadly, mum passed away last year and in May the family got together on her birthday to talk over old times. The chat eventually worked its way around to planning a family gathering for the millennium. We wanted to be together, but none of us had a home big enough to sleep 12 comfortably. You can probably guess what's next. There will be several cars from various places throughout Britain making their way to the Pinewood Country House Hotel in Tentsmuir Forest, where all six bedrooms will be taken by family members until 3 January 2000. We really are going home for the holidays. * * * * * NINA: A MYSTERY by Alison O'Donnell Although my questions are about a British person, it is an American angle I am pursuing. I am desperate to fill in the gaps of the story of my maternal grandmother, who was born in London, went to live in China, and later returned to sing in the chorus of West End musicals. She then met an older man, a Royal Marine who had sailed to Canada and Australia as band leader with the Prince of Wales in 1920-21. This tale has oodles of passion, love, mystery, sorrow, secrecy and is set in England, China, North America, and Ireland. It would all have been somewhat charming and straightforward if it weren't for the fact that when I started researching in 1996, I could not find her anywhere in the U.K. registers. Questions about her early life were in great abundance -- for instance, none of her children had ever known a single member of her family, not even their names, and her stories of China were general. She never spoke of having a mother and was careful not to drop any hints about her life prior to 1923. After researching about 18 months we located her presence on board "The Minnesota," which arrived in Liverpool, England on 1 May 1919, from St. John's, Newfoundland. From what she had told us of her admiration for the magnificent sights to be seen during the train journey across Canada and some postcards to prove it, together with her known involvement in West End society and theatre between 1919 and 1920, this seemed correct. However, there were several shocks, most notably that she was travelling with a four-year-old boy. Their names were given as Winifred A. LEIGH, aged 24, U.S. citizen previously resident in China, and Raymond W. LEIGH, U.S. citizen. They were travelling cabin class with two Chinese nurses and Winifred and Raymond were bound for an address in Stockwell, south London. This led to the discovery of the family living at the Stockwell address -- Charles William SHEARS, Ellen, and Elizabeth, which in turn led to our finding the birth of Winifred Ada Elizabeth SHEARS on 31 March 1895 in Lambeth, London, to Charles William SHEARS and Ellen, formerly CHANDLER. The names Ada and Elizabeth may have been after both her grandmothers. We knew her birthday to have been 31 March and the name Winifred she had always acknowledged even though she disliked it. This information was a great surprise as we had known her as Winifred LEIGH, although she always called herself Nina, presumably her stage name. On her marriage she became Winifred (Nina) O'DONNELL. Before these discoveries, I had found her marriage certificate, which revealed that she and Percival Sylvester George O'DONNELL, of Irish descent but born in India to a musical family, had been married in secret at least five years after everyone thought the marriage had taken place. How did they manage to conceal this in the Royal Marines and later when he worked for the BBC? They had three children born in different parts of the country to. I discovered that he had finally managed to obtain a divorce from his second, Catholic, violinist wife, three months before their marriage took place on midsummer day 1928. His first wife had died in childbirth in India and their sickly child at the age of 11 in Plymouth. Despite the age difference, he and my grandmother were very happy together until his death in 1945. Her family thought she was three years younger but the ship's records show her correct age, thus we assume that along with her humble origins, she amended her age, name, address, and possibly marital status to obliterate her past. Her marriage certificate cites her as being a spinster and her father's name is given as Charles William LEIGH (SHEARS is not mentioned), still living in 1928. Her address belonged to her future brother-in-law and one of the witnesses was a great-aunt who never revealed the secrets of Nina's marriage or her life prior to the union to any member of her own family. No one lived to tell the tale of how she became a U.S. citizen, what happened to the boy and to a husband, if there was one, or why she and her parents never saw each other again. She lived in Shanghai and Hankow in China and it is almost impossible to trace any records there. How did she get there and with whom? Her father worked for the General Post Office in London for all his working life. She had seven uncles and aunts according to the 1881 census and tracing the descendants of these relatives (SHEARS) might bring some information to light, but 80 years have passed and it is a long shot. She went to Ireland with three of her four children after her husband died and all that is left now are a bunch of Chinese and Canadian postcards, one or two puzzling photographs, and some Chinese knick-knacks. There are no papers or clues of any kind. We, her family, hope to learn who she was and what occurred to wipe out her origins. * * * * * HUMOR. This purports to be an answer given on a sixth-grade history test and is from a list that has been making the rounds, the author's identity having been lost in transit. Julius Caesar extinguished himself on the battlefields of Gaul. The Ides of March murdered him because they thought he was going to be made king. Dying, he gasped out: "Tee hee, Brutus." * * * * * CALL FOR ARTICLES, STORIES. MISSING LINKS welcomes articles about genealogical research methods and sources from all parts of the world. MISSING LINKS also welcomes delightful, amusing, amazing, cautionary, or otherwise wonderful and educational tales of genealogical research for the "Successful Links" section and articles acknowledging the efforts of particularly helpful librarians, archivists, town or county clerks, and other frequently unsung heroes, for publication in the "Virtual Bouquets" section. Please send articles and stories for consideration for publication to PERMISSION TO REPRINT articles from MISSING LINKS is granted unless specifically stated otherwise, PROVIDED: (1) the reprint is used for non-commercial, educational purposes; and (2) the following notice appears at the end of the article: Written by [author's name, e-mail address, and URL, if given]. Previously published by Julia M. Case and Myra Vanderpool Gormley, CG, Missing Links, Vol. 4, No. 53, 29 December 1999. 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