Question of the Week: What's a favorite story you have of a paternal ancestor?

Question

Do you have a family story about a father or an ancestor on your father's side? Or a paternal ancestor you particularly admire?

Tell us about it with an answer below! You could also answer on Facebook or share the question image with friends and family on social media to get them talking.

Comments

My grandfather was a character.  

At age 8 he rode his bike from Worcester MA to New York.

At age 16 he lied about his age to join the Navy in WWII

After returning from a dangerous mission shooting down kamakazi planes they set dock in San Diego CA.

Men were scarce and his cousin needed a date for a dance.  In his infinite teenaged wisdom he jumped ship, going AWOL to take her.

When he got back near the base he jumped in ocean, showed up at the front gate and told them he had fallen overboard.  They believed him.

He straighten out in his older years.  Became the most devoted family man you'd ever seen.

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Hello—I’m curious.  Did everybody get the same picture of the man with the pipe, or just me because he’s my dad?  It was a little startling to see his face pop up on Wednesday, but good too. I imagine you have the ability to send members photos of their dads if they are in their profiles.  But if everyone did get it, daddy would have been pleased.  It’s my favorite picture of him.  And Wiki says Elvis is his 8th cousin, and also related by marriage on all sides.  He looks a little like Elvis, no?  Happy Father’s Day, dad!

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M Wade,

Your father’s photo indeed was featured. It’s a great picture!

Answer 1

My favorite story of a paternal ancestor is the story of my father's career in electronics. William T. Ceruti first became interested in electronics during his childhood in Florida and South Carolina.

https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Ceruti-8

We have photos of his mother with children and grandchildren next to a very old tube-style radio around 1910. Eventually, he became an electronics technician and radio operator. William enlisted in the U.S. Navy and graduated from the U.S. Naval Radio School at the Great Lakes Naval Training Center in 1920. After his discharge, E3c(R) Ceruti joined the Radio Corporation of America (RCA). During World War II, he was part of a team from RCA that set up a radio station to improve command and control in Costa Rica. This radio station, called "Station Z," helped the "banana boats" and other vessels navigate to and from the docks in and around the harbor. It had both commercial and military applications in command and control. After returning to the U.S. he became a ham radio operator as one of his avocations. His call sign was W2WGR. My brother and I grew up with electronic components, tools, and all manner of electrical devices, so naturally during my career with Naval Civil Service, I was attracted to the interdisciplinary field of command, control, communications, and electronics. Both parents influenced my interest in music, but it was my father who inspired my interest in electronics.

Answer 2

When my mother gave me an old family photo of her grandmother, with her siblings and parents, she commented how she always thought that her great-grandfather, [[Fass-9|Albert Behrends Fass (1832-1912)]], looked stern and gruff, even mean. In the course of researching Albert, I found several interesting items about him. He immigrated as an adult by himself in 1855 at age 23. After eight years of improving his farm, he married a widow with three children, even procuring a burial plot to bury her deceased husband. He was married for 13 years with no children, then his first wife died. He then married a second time, again to a widow who had three children. He and his second wife had nine children and were among four families who were the founders of the St. John's Lutheran Church near Auburn, Nebraska. I was able to tell my mother these stories and encourage her to change her mind about gruff old Great-grandfather Albert, who really must have had a compassionate personality and a loving heart.

Answer 3

A large part of my childhood was spent in St. Louis (Ballwin), MO.  For many summers, a favorite thing my dad would do (and as a favor to my mom as well!) was to bring all us kids to the (fairly) nearby Six Flags - (and on the drive there was always open to listening to "Kasey-Kasem's top-40 hits" on the radio!).  Being a tall kid, even by the age of (I think) 7 (maybe 8) I could ride the large rides...and to this day I still love roller-coasters...the crazier, the better!   At the time I was going, there was a huge wooden roller-coaster called the "Screaming Eagle" - I loved it!  The first time I got on, I immediately got in line again!  My dad would ride with us, of course, but if we needed to go again, he wouldn't hold us back.  :)

Answer 4

This is a story about my Dad, [[Cavel-5|Charlie Hall Cavel]], who was a remarkable man in many ways. This is one of several stories I have shared about him on his profile.  

''' No Son of Mine Will Be Left to Die As Long As There's Breath In Him ''' 

Charlie's wife [[Clark-24672|Mattie Clark Cavel]] was a tiny little person. Her nine-year-old grandson was as tall as she was, which was about 4' 9" in her bare feet. So pregnancy was not an easy time for her. There just wasn't much room for a baby. And in 1929 she was pregnant for the second time, and she suspected she might be carrying twins. She told the doctor she could feel two heads and two little behinds but he laughed and said he didn't think so, as he could only hear a single heartbeat.

At seven months she went into labor, during a raging storm. The rain fell in sheets, and when they tried to get to the hospital the bridges on both exit roads were washed out. So they went back home and Charlie's brother [[Cavel-14|Arthur]] went for the doctor on a horse. The doctor came, many hours later, and after 36 hours of labor Mattie delivered a tiny baby boy, with legs and arms the size of his father's fingers.

She told the doctor, "There's another one." He said he didn't think so, but at that point a second baby boy, identical to the first but even smaller, made his presence known.

The doctor looked them over, all two pounds each, and said they were so small they'd never live. Best to wrap them up and let them slip away quietly without too much fuss.

But Charlie looked at his tiny sons and declared that as long as they were alive he was going to give them every chance he could to live. He was a farm boy and had experience keeping baby animals alive, orphaned lambs, tiny calves, wee little piglets. He knew that it was vital to keep babies warm and the air they breathed warm and humid, and  to handle them as little as possible.

He got an apple crate and lined it with a clean blanket. On the bottom he laid a thick layer of clean cotton batting with a layer of flannel on top. He made a pocket on each side with a folded blanket and slipped hot water bottles into the pockets. 

The boys were laid in the apple crate with flannel beneath them that could be slipped out when it was soiled. Then a towel soaked in boiling water and wrung as dry as possible was laid over the top of the crate. As soon as it cooled it was replaced with a hot one. He laid the milk thermometer in the crate so he could make sure the temperature was stable and stayed a consistent 99 degrees. He and Arthur took turns on towel duty 24 hours a day.  

Mattie expressed a little milk every half hour and Charlie fed the twins two drops each with an eye dropper. And they lived through the first 24 hours, the first 48, the first week.

At the end of two weeks Charlie and Arthur had no skin left on their hands and arms to the elbows, but the weather had warmed up and boys were able to breathe room temperature air, and soon they were strong enough to nurse on their own.

Many men might have given up, and most premature babies died then, but Charlie was determined that his sons were not going to die.  

Amazingly my brothers  [[Cavel-6|Hall]] and [[Cavel-8|Harrell]] were never told how he fought to save their lives, though I was told this story a dozen times as a child and teenager. When I told my brother Hall this story in the last year of his life - and he lived to be 82 - he wept. He said he never knew Dad loved them, and while our Dad was not an emotional man, nor one to hug or kiss his children, he would have stood between us and a bullet. 

There's not a single day goes by I don't miss him.  

Answer 5

My paternal great-grandfather, John G. Montano, was born in Italy. The family story goes that he was brought to the US when he was around nine years of age, as part of a traveling children's orchestra. He played violin. The adult who arranged this trip took all of the money and returned to Italy, leaving the children to fend for themselves. He went to the nearest Catholic church and asked for help, but was denied. We don't know why. Perhaps it was an Irish Catholic church and him being Italian and speaking no English was the reason.
 

He ended up making his way to Cincinnati, OH, where he was taken in by the Warren Witham family. He ended up marrying their daughter Frances. They had six children, four girls and two boys. They moved to Union City, IN, where John opened a lumber yard (which is still in business and operated by one of John's great grandsons).

I wish I knew more of the story, and also of the years between New York and Union City.

Answer 6

May Dad did a lot of things with me as I was growing up in the 1950's - taught me to watercolour, make kites out of my mother silk stash, play tennis and golf, fly fish and swim but what I remember most was the cool summer evening we were all eating dinner and he heard someone out beyond our back yard rummaging around in the trash. He went and took a quick look, came back gatherd our dinner into a cardboard box and took it to the man.  He never said a word to any of us but proceeded to talk of the days news and eat what was leftover of his meal.

Comments

That was a kind and compassionate gesture Connie. I remember men we used to call 'Hobos' would come to the door asking to do a bit of work in exchange for food when I was a youngster. They were always invited to rest on the back porch while Mother fixed a  meal for them. I think many of them were victims of what was called 'shell-shock' then. We now call it PTSD, but it was looked on as shameful then and many of those men took to the rails, riding from place to place, living from hand-to-mouth. Thank goodness our parents were compassionate and understanding.

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Aamazing of all the wonderful stories about my Dad, this one always sticks out the most.

Answer 7

My father's uncle Bernard has no descendants to tell his tale so I will take up the story I have uncovered.  Bernard Garnett was born in Sheffield in 1891.  He decided not to join the family business, but completed a National Diploma in Agriculture in 1913, and by 1914 he was teaching at Harper Adams Agricultural College in Shropshire. 

My sister said one day  "Do you remember anyone ever mentioning what Uncle Bernard did during the first world war?"  I found a service record which begins in November 1916, when he was leaving an address in Arklow, which is 50 miles south of Dublin where he joined the army at the enlistment office there, occupation: Assistant Chemist.  He then spent 5 months in uniform in England, before being transferred to Army Reserve W which indicates he was more useful in a civilian job than in uniform.  He was sent to a government factory in Oldbury, Worcestershire, which, on separate sites, manufactured TNT and ammonium nitrate which are the two ingredients of the explosive Amatol, mixed elsewhere at shell filling factories.  (Remember the huge explosion in Beiruit a couple of years ago? – ammonium nitrate, agricultural fertiliser.)  He was discharged from the army in December 1918 and in April 1919 he wrote a short letter to Army Records on Harper Adams College headed notepaper.

I looked back at Arklow, and found this paragraph: 

"KYNOCH WORKS, WITTON, BIRMINGHAM

1893-1896  Kynochs enter the field of high explosive production…  A new factory is built (1895) on a 170 acre site at Arklow on the east coast of Ireland to produce cordite. Very quickly gelignite, dynamite and Kynite were introduced to the range." 

Bernard's address in Arklow was close to the factory entrance.  So why did he join up when he was in a reserved occupation?

This was the year of the Easter Rising, during which troops had been sent to secure the factory.  After that Arklow town was virtually under military rule.  The IRA was involved in various incidents.  He was an Englishman amongst a mostly Irish labour force. Perhaps joining up was the safest way out, and fortunately it left us a trail of information.

 

Answer 8

When I was a child, maybe 6 or 7, my parents were driving us past the reservoir where we grew up fishing a lot. My older sister and I were in the back seat and it was April 1st. My dad, Edwin T. King, told me to "look over there, Tina, there's a giraffe!". I turned my head and looked and looked. Big sister said, "there wasn't one". I replied with "yes, there was!". She said "no there wasn't, how do you know there was?" there were snickers coming from the front seat where my parents were sitting enjoying this drive. I replied, "Because daddy told me so, and he wouldn't lie to me!" It got extremely quiet in the front seat. Nobody ever told me any different and I kept looking back to find that giraffe. Needless to say, I never found him. 

Yesterday was the 49th anniversary of his passing.

Answer 9

Here is poem written about my grandfather [[Cox-27540|Leslie Record Cox Sr. (1893-1952)]] in 1951. He was a mechanical engineer at Bell Labs in New Jersey

25 Years Service

Bell System

When you have to build a circuit to do a brand-new job

And rack your brain for ways and means of doing it

You draw up diagrams until your head begins to throb

And look for simpler, fresher ways of viewing it

Then when you’ve fought it through and have the problems well in mind

Each new approach some difficulty blocks

In this dark hour, the lowest ebb in all your daily grind

You take your thoughts and spill them out to Cox.

Cox takes his feet down of the desk, a twinkle in his eye

He never had a problem quite like yours

He doesn’t know if he can help, but guesses he can try

And fills and lights his pipe while he explores

The difficulties you are in and what you really want

The fundamental principles involved

That simple clarity of his, no problem seems to daunt

Some of your worries are already solved.

The back of an old scratch pad from a disorderly file

Soon comes alive with crooked marks which show

The basic elements that you have sought for all the while

And from them, the direction you should go

You find when Cox has finished that you still have much to do

The circuit is by no means all designed

But now you see some of the possibilities thought through

Regaining confidence once left behind.

The conversation may of course take any sort of turn

To Cox, the universe is all one piece

The little things you never thought about at all, you learn

Fit into one great plan. They may release

A flood of sound philosophy on subjects near your heart.

Nutrition, of the care of pets, or how

To wallpaper a room successfully, or take apart

A watch. His nimble wits no bounds allow.

And now we gather here to pay our homage to this friend

Who makes us think, when bright ideas are needed.

His sunny optimism, common sens and courage blend

In one great guy in measure unexceeded.

So on this anniversary of twenty-five short years

Of combatting the Bell System’s hard knocks

We wish him joy and happiness with one accord: so here’s

A toast from each of us to Leslie Cox.

October 5, 1951

DBP

Answer 10

My dad had a small piece of paper he carried around in his billfold - pulling it out at any moment to challenge people to say what it meant.  Since I can't attach the paper I will put the letters in a table.

STAND	TAKE	TO	TAKINGS
I	YOU	THROW	MY

He always thought it was great fun.

You can Google the Stand I / take you / to throw / takings my and get a variation of the riddle but try to guess it first 

Comments

I managed to figure it out myself.  Over and out for now.

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Thanks for responding.

Answer 11

After being a genealogist for 51 years, in 2021 while checking for multiple marriages for my father's sisters I discovered that pappy was a bigamist. He had married in Alabama  before he married my mother in Colorado, No record of a divorce was found

Answer 12

My dad, Samuel Mennear (Mennear-2) was born in Boksburg SA, spent his very early years in St. Ives, Cornwall, England then in 1913 when he was 5 years old  his family, now comprised of his mother, Eliza Beckerleg-79 Baragwanath, his stepfather, George Henry Baragwanath-81, his older brother John Beckerleg Mennear-18 and his half siblings, George and Beatrice Baragwanath immigrated to the city of Calumet in Michigan's upper Peninsula. Although remaining in the UP for only a year, Samuel had an experience that still ripples through the 4 generations of his descendants.

Samuel's stepfather was a miner so it was logical for him to seek and find employment in Calumet's copper mining industry.  Then, shortley after Thanksgiving, he sustained a broken leg. With workmen's compensation and sick pay for day laborers yet to be enacted, the familyl faced a dreary Christmas.  But there was one event to look forwardto, the union sponsered benefit Christmas party on December 24 at the Italian Hall.

Samuel told us of being bundled up against the UP's winter and walking to the party.  But when they arrivevd, they were turned away at the door because his step father was not actually a working miner because of his broken leg. So the entire family returned home.

 By all accounts the second floor of the hall was crowded, and the festivities were in full swing when someone, never to be identified, opened the street door and hollered, "Fire!"

Panic ensued with adults and children alike rushing down the stairs toward the double doors that opened onto the street. But for some unknown reason the doors remained closed and formed a death trap for dozens of children, victims of the crush of terrorized people above them.

Only later did everyone realize that there was no fire at all.  It was a prank, but far from harmless; 74 perished in that blocked doorway; 18 adults and 56 children ranging in age from 2 to12 years.  Samuel and his family, oblivious to what was happening at the party, were safely at home.

In his later years Samuel reminisced about the Christmas disaster and I think he still harbored some degree of resentment at being barred from the party.  But my sister and I, as well as Samuel's grand-, great- and great-great-grand children cannot help but think that each of us may owe our very existence to some unknonwn person who disappointed my dad at the door of the Italian Hall on Christmas Eve, 1913.

Comments

John,

How cruel to bar children from the only Christmas celebration they would likely be able to enjoy, but how fortunate in the end, for your family! As we can see from reading these stories, life is certainly precarious. While working as a fireman my Dad was called out to a fire in a school where a Christmas party was taking place. The tree on the stage caught fire and those in the crowded room panicked and rushed the door. As in your story, the door opened inward, and in the crush, could not be opened. Many perished in the fire. As a result, laws were changed in Oklahoma so that doors in all public buildings opened outward.

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That reminds me of a scene from "Homestead Rescue" on tv.  The family had been gifted with an underground storm shelter and the plans were changed to give them an inward opening door so debris outside would not trap them.  I would never have given it a thought.

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Thanks for your cooment about the doors at the Italian Hall.  The doors opened outward rather than inward.  I've seen some pictures taken shortly after the disaster and there was an article in the Calumet News indicating that the doors opened outward.  This allows us to engage in speculation about why the doors didn't open.  I fear the investigations may have been influenced by the mining company the union was striking against.

Answer 13

I'm not sure if this is a fitting response or even appropriate for WikiTree, but in 1971 I wrote a song entitled "My Father's Father's Father," about 4 generations of my family.  Two years ago I re-recorded it and created a video including old family photos and, after the song, home movie footage and text with a short summary of what I'd learned about those 4 generations in 40 years of doing family tree research.  The video is on YouTube at:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJzfQb-yE-w&t=2s.

Comments

Dick,

That is a beautiful tribute and family history all at the same time! It's *wonderful*! I am awe-struck that you have video of Anna Hollen Smith Bay! (I don't even have a photo of my maternal grandmother!) Music can encapsulate history so much more succinctly than mere words and you've proven it again. Thank you for sharing your family history and song with us! 

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I agree with Deb, it is beautiful.

Answer 14

My sister, Fran, our Mother, Edna (Bill´s dear wife) and I were all very lucky to have my Father, Bill Robinson in our lives.  In 1927 the banana crate company he worked for in the U.S.A. sent Bill to Winnipeg, Manitoba to manage their plant there.  He met Edna and her large, loving family and decided that Winnipeg was the best place in the world. When the big Depression hit, that company disappeared and my Dad found work wherever he could, and also ´rode the rails´ into Saskatchewan to work ´wherever´ until WW2 broke out.  He then joined the Canadian Army and was sent to England at age 39 one week after I was born in Oct. 1940.  

He was part of the Battle at Dieppe, and he became a o Prisoner of War for 2 & 1/2 years in Stalag 8B before being liberated by the Americans and the Russians.

One of the guards in the P.O.W. camp was a teacher in his civilian life who offered to teach any prisoners to read, write, and speak the German language.  Our Dad, needing to keep his mind occupied, learned that language, and never forgot it before his passing in 1981.  I tested him by taking a German born lady friend of mine to visit him.  She thought his ´German´ was better than hers.  

His first languages, were Singhalese and English.   Dad (Bill) began to forget Singhalese until I introduced him to a couple from Ceylon whom I worked with.  They helped him speak ´it´ well again until my Dad´s passing (into Heaven I´m sure).

Fran and I know that our Dad did not suffer PTSD as many young soldiers/p.o.w.´s suffered.  This was because of him being about 20 years older than most soldiers; five of whom were my Mother´s brothers (one of whom was fifteen, with a 19 year old wife who thought my Uncle Bill McCalder was 19 !!)

My sister, Fran always rememberd our Father, and was exstatic to have him back home.  She had to explain to me what a ´Daddy´ was.  He was wonderful from my first meeting with him at Winnipeg´s CNR train station.  I was just four months away from turning five, and Fran was past eight years.  Mother Edna had made satin dresses for us to wear, and we have photographs of that wonderful meeting.  

Thank you for reading this.  Phyllis Grieco, Texada Island, B.C.

Answer 15

In 1970 when my grandfather Bales (Bales-675) was 91 years old we were sitting on his front porch in Texas when a state vehicle pulled up and a young man got out carrying a clipboard. He explained that the State of Texas was building small ponds and lakes on the headwaters of creeks in an attempt to maintain the water table. They wanted to build a 25 acre lake which would partly extend to his farm land and needed his permission to do so.

Grandfather considered it a bit and replied "I'll be glad to sign your permission form, but the lake will silt up in no time."

"Oh no", replied the young man. "Our engineers calculate that it will take 75 years for the lake to silt up."

"That's what I said", replied my grandfather. "It will silt up in no time."

Answer 16

My grandfather, Benjamin Tilcamp was a coal miner in Evansville, Indiana.  During the depression, he was never out of work.  His job title was Shot firer.  It was his job to light the dynamite and run like crazy to get away before it exploded.

On the street he lived on, Lemcke Avenue, his neighbors had been out of work forever.  My granddad would stop at the grocery store on his way home from work and by groceries for  his family and his nextdoor who had a wife and 5 young boys.  He continued to do that every week.  When my eldest brother died and his funeral was in Evansville, the five men who were  at least in their 50's, walked up to me and introduced themselves and told me they were there in honor of Benjamin Tilcamp who kepts there family alive during the depression.

Comments

It was certainly "pay it forward" in action.  What a generous gesture for each generation and shows us that we never know how our actions will reflect on us.  What a sterling example of living he set for his family.  And how it was so appreciated.

Answer 17

My grandfather Denis Osborne was born in 1874. He was a good athlete. His speciality was the high jump. He was Midlands high jump champion. In those days all sport was strictly amateur. He made the mistake of accepting a wager of 2 shillings and 6 pence that he could not jump over a horse and cart. He won the bet, but subsequently lost his amateur status and was never able to compete again.

Answer 18

During his life Charles Emmert Jones took many pictures of his family. When he got older, with love, he looked at all of the pictures and separated them by name of his children. Then he gave each child an album of pictures which mostly included that person. EACH ALBUM INCLUDED NUMEROUS PICTURES AND WAS HEAVY TO CARRY. He must have spent many hours completing each album. I know that he had many memories of his family as he looked at the pictures. I recently went through the albums, some mostly of my pictures and others mostly of him and miscellaneous family members. These treasured albums brought back memories to me of family trips and events. I even found Dad's birth certificate and other precious treasures. 

DADs Emmert Jones was a coal miner in Pennsylvania and West Virginia. He also was a coal mine inspection supervisor for the Mine Safety and Health Administration, Department of Labor. His work was dangerous and involved his going underground in coal mines.

Burial at Berkey Church Cemetery - Dad died at age 83. He wanted a main large headstone so that people would be able to easily find our headstone. Often he visited graves and found it difficult to find graves. Note the morning glories at the bottom of the "JONES" stone.

After retiring, mornings he would count the wild morning glories blooming along the iron fence on the side of the house. He would count them every morning saying there were, 20 , 30, etc. Yes, he was very fond of those morning glories. Years later, I saw that there were morning glories on the "JONES" headstone at Berkey Church Cemetery.

As a young man Grandpa, William Raymond Jones, superintendent of many mines, was severely injured in a mine explosion. He was then unable to work and provide for his family, including five children. A daughter, Verna, died at a very young age. Dad, Charles E. Jones, my father, was the oldest at 9 years old and had to quit school and work in the coal mines to support the family. At that time there were no laws to prevent children from working in dangerous mines and many were lost due to fatalities caused by accidents and mine disasters.

With little education, Dad took all of the training and educational courses he could to advance his career from a coal miner to a Federal Mine Inspection Supervisor for the Bureau of Mines, Department of the Interior. Later the Bureau of Mines was transferred to the Department of Labor, Mine Safety and Health Administration. Dad always stressed education to his children because he knew the importance of it.

Dad often spoke about the sudden loss of his sister, Verna, and of the sudden loss in 1906 of his Grandfather, James T. Jones, age 47, Head Boss at Federal Coal Company. He died from blood poison caused by a scratch on the nose while showing his sons how to use picks to dig coal in a Hooversville, PA, mine. He lived for 2 weeks after receiving the scratch. It is important to note that Dad updated the biography of Alvah Jones, which couldn't have been easy since he wasn’t proficient in typing. The original was difficult to read.

While working in a West Virginia coal mine, Dad saved the life of a coal miner by carrying him out of the mine to safety. I don't remember the cause for the rescue but believe it was due to a mine fire, or explosion. Dad also rescued me as a young child after I ran away from him into a Beckley street and was being dragged by a car. Fortunately, I only had minor injuries thanks to his prompt action. There was an article in the Charleston, WV paper about the accident.

Dad was a Mason and a member of the Memorial Presbyterian Church, Wilkes-Barre, PA, and belonged to the Holmes Safety Association.

On a few trips to mines, I believe, he found flowers, such as purple Iris and Tiger Lilies, and a blueberry bush growing wild along on side of the road. He brought them home and planted them in our yard. He also brought me fossilized rocks with embedded plants he found in the coal mines.

Another note about Dad, there were some bees who built a nest in a wooden shelter outside our home where we parked our cars. They were Carpenter bees who drill holes in wood to make nests. Well, they were producing a lot of honey which was dripping all over our cars. Instead of destroying the bees, he accommodated them by attaching something underneath their nest so that the honey would fall there and not on our cars. Concerning animals, my father brought home a bull dog he found in town, Public Squire, which needed help because of ticks. He pulled many out but unfortunately, the dog passed away. However, because of Dad, the dog had a chance. He liked dogs and while I was a child.

 

Answer 19

Squire Thomas Jones born August 18, 1833, Wales, was the father of James T. Jones and the grandfather of Rev. Alvah K. Jones and William Raymond "Ray" Jones, my grandfather. Their brothers were Samuel Blaine Jones, Chalmer T. Jones, and James Tussey Jones, Whittier, California. Squire Thomas Jones was also the father of many other children; some were born in Wales. He was solemnly dedicated to God in Holy Baptism 2 weeks after his birth at the casket of his father, Thomas Jones, Sr., who was killed in the mines of Wales.

He arrived in America in 1864 and after earning sufficient funds to pay for his family's transportation, he sent for them. Their ship arrived in New York Harbor in March 1865, but they remained on the ship until he came for them on the night of April 14, 1865, the night Abraham Lincoln was assassinated in Ford's theatre April 14, 1865, by actor John Wilkes Booth. One of his sons, James T. Jones, was 5 years old at the time.

Squire Thomas Jones had no problem finding work at a mine between Broad Top City and Dudley at Cookstown.

When the family moved into the coal mining village of Kearney, I believe, in the spring of 1893, there were no religious services. He got a few people interested in starting a Sunday School in the public school building. Also, he was the first Superintendent to conduct that Sunday School. In 1903 the family moved to Hooversville, Somerset County, where they attended the Lutheran Church.

Answer 20

My story begins with the early 20th century emigration to Canada from Scotland of my ggf and gf who received a homesteader's grant in Saskatchewan, established a working farm and brought my ggm and most of their children over.  I was told only a few things from my father; one was the presence passed down through generations of a kilt, a plaid and a sporran which was given to the first born male child in each generation.  Unlikely I thought.  To my surprise my father's younger brother gave me a picture of my Dad wearing the family regalia.  Our generation universally had only female children until the birth of my cousin Charles.  He was the only male child, and the family heritage items went to him and from him most likely to his son.  Because they divorced and his wife moved away with their children at this point I cannot be certain these artifacts remain in the family but I like to think they do,