Category Archives: Family History

Of Books, Toots, Discoveries and Photographs

by thehistoryinterpreter

It has been a while since my last post but I have not been idle. Buckland Brewer History Group published a book last month and I’ve been frantically wrapping and posting, watching the pile in my kitchen diminish as orders come in from hither and yon. This was a joint project, involving contributions from fifty people and we are very proud of it.

I’ve been really knuckling down to my writing project and now have nearly half the chapters completed, with several others well on their way. I don’t want to give too much away but let’s just say, in line with many of my talks, this book does concentrate in the grittier side of life. It has led me to some wonderful online sources. Following an excellent talk about the Temple Lodge Home for Inebriate Women that was given to Devon Family History Society by Liz Craig this week, I decided it was time to tackle the scheduled chapter on the inebriate. Liz had pointed us to The Birmingham Black Books, what a treasure trove. This is a record of ‘habitual drunkards’, complete with photographs, who were identified in the early years of the twentieth century. The book was issued to local publicans so that they would not serve those who were included. My work-in-progress book includes a series of case studies and I have spent most of this week following the life of one of those black-listers, Sarah Grosvenor, who chalked up over 200 drunk and disorderly charges. I am really frustrated that I can’t identify her during the first forty years of her life as I feel that might shed some light on why she ended up on this path.

There have been exciting family history discoveries of my own too. Access to the 1921 census as part of my FindmyPast subscription means I have been following up the extended family and I have discovered another relative who spent time in a mental hospital, then known as an asylum. I have been able to access the case books and – cue really exciting bit – letters survive between the sister on the patient and the institution. I am able to have copies of these letters, which I hope a lovely researcher will get for me next month – watch this space.

I have also revisited the family history of the fisherman of my acquaintance, looking at a branch that hadn’t been examined for several years. Newly available records did reveal the need for a bit of tree surgery. The branch that was lopped off were his geographically further flung ancestors – they came from a parish seventy miles from where he was born. Now I have identified the correct Elizabeth Nicholls, every one of his direct ancestors, on all lines, was baptised within fifteen miles of where he was born. Is this some kind of record? I also managed to crack a persist brick wall finding, that his 3x great-grandfather invented a surname. You can’t fool me Robert, I know who you really were.

The Cornish Adventure continues – more of that in a post of its own soon. Most of yesterday was spent biting the Mastodon bullet. As people seem to be deserting Twitter in droves, I’ve joined others in the genealogical community who have set up accounts on this social media platform that pretty much no one had heard of three weeks ago. Here one Toots rather than Tweets and it proves that there are new learning curves to be mastered and that every day is a school day. You can find me on Mastodon here.

The other bandwagon on which I have jumped is the new app from MyHeritage, which using AI to turn you into a Viking, a Green Goddess, a Punk Rocker or even a cyborg. This is free to try for a limited period. I do have a few reservations about this, particularly regarding creating ones that lead you down the path of mis-appropriation of ethnic identity and then there is the whole issue of tampering with the evidence that is original photos. I do think it might be something that would be a way of interesting young people in the past, although there is a strict ban on using this with photographs of minors. So how does it work? ‘Upload 10-25 photographs of yourself’. Do I even have 10-25 photographs of myself that don’t go back decades? I managed to scrape together ten by dint of lopping off the other people in them. Then the weird and wonderful images were created. Some are decidedly odd and distorted, probably because I only uploaded the minimum number of photos. In some I look like the late Queen but others have said the same, perhaps this is a default. I leave you with (allegedly) me as a Celt, in the 1950s, the 1970s and the 1980s. I think the 1970s one is my favourite as that does actually look like me in the 1970s. I have spared you the cyborg.

Dallying in Derbyshire 2

by thehistoryinterpreter

I’m finally getting round to finishing the story of our trip to northern climes. There were lovely views as we crossed the county boundary to visit the RSPB reserve at Coombes Valley, near Leek in Staffordshire. We had a pleasant woodland walk but apart from a couple of buzzards, wildlife did its typical disappearing trick yet again. The most birds we saw were those spotted whilst in the car park.

The next day was the Family History conference at Buxton. It felt strange but it was fun to be back at a larger in-person event, maybe I had missed these occasions more than I thought. The conference was held in the Palace Hotel, obviously once very grand but now a faded old lady, somewhat fraying at the edges. I’ve organised enough conferences to know that it is the things  that are out of your control that go wrong and I really felt for the organisers. In theory there was parking reserved for speakers and exhibitors. This had been absorbed by other hotel guests long before 8.20am when I arrived. I and my books were unceremoniously deposited on the doorstep whilst my companion circulated the car park many times, hoping to pounce as someone left. Then there was the heating, or rather there wasn’t the heating. Despite several requests, the management left the settings at arctic. This meant that I had several cups of coffee to keep warm. Decaffinated coffee didn’t seem an option so it was full strength or nothing. This was not a good idea. Lunch was a little lukewarm but the tiramisu was to die for. The previous couple of sentences contain the origins of my downfall.

The conference itself was excellent, with talks from Debbie Kennet on surnames, Nick Barratt on house history and Helen Tovey looking at four decades of Family Tree Magazine. My own presentation was about one-place studies. It was lovely to chat to people, including meeting two more of my family history coven in person for the first time. I also realised how many more books you sell when you are speaking in person and left with near empty boxes.

By the end of the day I was feeling very shaky and I began by blaming the caffeinated coffee. By the evening I was very unpleasantly unwell, not great at any time but especially not in a caravan. In retrospect, I think it was possibly the tiramisu and I heard that I wasn’t the only one to be struck down; maybe I shouldn’t have said ‘to die for’.

The next day we’d arranged to meet up with friends. I was still decidedly fragile so we decided not to go for our planned walk and chatted instead. There was more meeting up the following day, family this time and we were able to watch the Queen’s funeral and walk to the nearby Chatsworth Estate.

Our final day saw us return to Cromford Mill, which, fortuitously, was open this time. No plays on offer but a chance to view the industrial heritage of the area. We arrived just in time to join tour guide, David, who showed a small group of us round.

Cromford Mills forms part of the World Heritage Site that stretches for fifteen miles along the Derwent Valley. Today’s trip brought to mind long ago schooldays learning about the industrial revolution. In 1768, Richard Arkwright, a barber and wig-maker, patented his water-powered spinning frame, invented in conjunction with John Kay. Arkwright was described as ‘a man of copious free digestion’; that sounds like a phrase worth dropping into a conversation at an appropriate moment. Working with the Nottinghamshire hosiery Industry, Arkwright looked for a suitable site to set up his mill in order to produce cotton thread. Cromford had the necessary water supply from the Bonsall Brook and Cromford Sough was diverted to increase the flow. The site was on a turnpike route, vital for transporting raw cotton and the spun thread. Raw cotton arrived in Liverpool from the Caribbean and would be taken by pack horse to the mill. Arkwright used builders from the local lead mines to construct his mill. The building was tall and thin to optimise the light and this became the blueprint for other mills in the area. Initially, the water wheel was constructed using wooden peg gears. The idea was to be ready for production as swiftly as possible.

The frame was designed to be simple to operate, so unskilled workers could be used. Cheap labour was obviously an attraction, so Arkwright largely employed the wives and children of local lead miners. At its peak, over 1000 workers were employed in two shifts. The employees were better paid than farm workers and lead miners. Arkwright supplied toilets in the factory for his workers and there was barrack-like accommodation on site for the male apprentices. He also had workers’ cottages constructed in the village. A second mill was built at Cromford, as well as others in the surrounding area.

Concerns about possible attacks by machine wreckers led to keeping pikes and small arms on site, which the workers were expected to use against saboteurs if the occasion arose. In fact, there were few problems. Until 1775, carding was done manually, which proved inadequate to meet the demand. A carding engine was invented in 1775. The invention of Cartwright’s mechanised loom in the 1780s, increased the demand for spun cotton. Arkwright is regarded as the father of the factory system and it was interesting to explore the site. I was still not feeling up to too much standing or walking but we finished off our visit with a walk along the canal.

Then it was time to head for home. We left early on a beautiful misty morning. I think this may not be our last visit to the area.

The Experimental Archaeology Adventure Part 10: the end of the adventure, or just the beginning

by thehistoryinterpreter

It has been a long time since I wrote about my experimental archaeology adventures, partly because I have been having fun completing the final assignment but also because anything involving technology has been hampered by the long and sorry lack of a laptop saga. I won’t bore you further with that but in summary, after nearly seven weeks of inadequate computing, making everything take twice as long as it should, the issue was finally resolved. This involved buying a replacement machine, which I could have done in the first place, hindsight and all that.

Back to the experimental archaeology. The final trimester of my course was entitled Crafts, Making and Storytelling, which, as the name suggests, involved actually making something. Having received very pleasing and unexpected grades for my second trimester assignments, I began the new module full of enthusiasm. In April, I began to consider what I could make for the assignment. Initially, I had contemplated something fishing related, which would be appropriate for my coastal connections and build on my assignment for module one. Having dismissed the idea of a coracle as being too impractical, I wondered whether a traditional withy lobster-pot might be an alternative. A willow-weaving workshop made me flirt with the idea of basketry.

As a family historian, I wanted to experience an activity that would have been familiar to my ancestors, which led me to straw-plaiting. My great great grandmother, Ann Stratford and many of her immediate family were straw-plaiters. I already had an affinity with this lady, as I spent three years living in her home county of Buckinghamshire in the 1980s, before I knew I had ancestral connections to the area. It was only after I left that I discovered I had been living not just in the county or village of her birth but in the road in which Ann had been born.

I began to research the history and craft of straw-plaiting, discovering that it is on the red list of endangered heritage crafts, with fewer than twenty crafts-persons plaiting on a professional or amateur basis. I wasn’t anticipating becoming an accomplished practitioner but the prospect of trying something unusual appealed. My decision was made.

That was the easy part. Then craftsperson’s block set in. Whilst my colleagues were off casting bronze, building cloam ovens and shooting beavers to make robes (this last in the US I should add), I retreated into my comfort zone and spent ages on the storytelling element, revisiting my research into the life of great great granny and the craft of straw-plaiting, There were a variety of plaiting techniques of differing complexity. I learned about plain, pearl and brilliant designs and read of the possibilities of enhancing the plait with coloured straws, or using two straws together to improve the plait. I found illustrations of satin box, middle, wagon wheel and feather edge plaits. Finally, after a reinvigorating Zoom chat with fellow students, I realised that this was a making project and something needed to be produced. I sourced and ordered some straw, which then sat on my kitchen table for two weeks before I could bring myself to open the package. I moved on to researching straw-plaiting but I still wasn’t making anything. I am not by nature a quitter so eventually I made a start.

I decided to keep it simple and use a basic seven-strand plait. I had done this before as a child but had no recollection of how it was achieved. Online illustrations revealed that the plaiters’ rhyme, ‘under one, over two, pull it tight and that will do’, told you all that you needed to know. Unwilling to waste straws, I began by practicing with string. It didn’t take long to get into the rhythm but I only managed to avoid confusing the strands by lying them on a flat surface and securing the knotted end at the bottom with Sellotape. If I stopped and walked away, despite carefully laying out the strands, it was difficult to pick up where I left off. It was also very slow. I manage to produce something passable, if short and a little uneven. Even though straw has very different qualities to string it was difficult to imagine how plaiting could be done by holding seven straws in the air, let alone using thumbs and middle fingers, which was the approved technique.

As straw-plaiting was a family activity, with ten-year-olds allegedly being as proficient as adults, I practiced string plaiting with some of my descendants. They all mastered the technique quickly. My adult daughter produced a neat plait. The eight-year-old had trouble pulling it taught but realised her deficiency and declared hers to be widdle-waddle (the plaiters’ term for a child’s unsaleable plait). I don’t think either of the children thought it would be much fun as a long-term activity.

It was time to try using straw. I cut the ends off with a knife and tried splitting the straw but either my straw was thinner than nineteenth century straw or I lacked a sufficiently steady hand, as all I produced were small slivers of straw. I had read that ‘early home-made hats were crude and bulky’ and would have used un-split straw. This sounded like a description of something that I might produce, so I decided that I would use whole straws. I was not going to attempt the bleaching or dying parts of the process, which, in any case, would not have been universal. I ‘milled’ the full length of the straw with my rolling pin. Next came the soaking. The fifteen inch lengths fitted in my sink but straw floats, so I weighted it down with a knife.

I chose seven straws, tied the ends together with yarn and began to plait. The approved method of using my thumbs and middle fingers to plait and my forefingers to turn splits, or in my case, straws, sounded rather like patting one’s head and rubbing ones stomach but I started slowly. I began by laying the straw on a flat surface, as I had with the string. This went well until I reached the end of the straws; all seven ran out at the same time. I made a terrible mess of trying to join in new straws. With hindsight maybe I should have started with straws of different lengths. As I progressed joining new straws became a little easier, as only one or two needed replacing at the same time. I gradually progress from the table to holding the straws in my hands but had to recite the ‘over one under two’ rhyme to keep me in rhythm. After an hour of plaiting, I had produced thirty inches of plait. The literature is contradictory about likely output but opinions ranged from ten to twenty-seven yards per day; I clearly had a long way to go.

My next plaiting session, I tried a different method of joining on new straws, slotting the hollow end of the new straw over the narrow end of the previous one. This wasn’t always successful as sometimes the end of the new straw split but it was an improvement. I was finding the straw more difficult to manage and realised I had forgotten the milling stage. This resulted in a much less neat plait but did mean I had preserved the hollow ends, thus enabling me to join straws using these. I resolved in future to mill but not to continue this to the very end, so that I could still slide one straw over another and avoid so many loose ends. Still chanting the rhyme, I achieved a similar output to the previous session.

By the third attempt, I was getting quicker but certainly not neater. After an hour and a half I had another ninety inches of plait. I had expected to find working the straw rough to the touch but this wasn’t the case. Keeping the straw wet meant that my fingers were continually damp and having plaited for longer, my right arm and shoulder were aching. By now, visions of plaiting were appearing before my eyes when I closed them.

Fortuitously, at this point, BBC2 re-screened a programme about the Luton hat trade. This revealed several useful pieces of information. Firstly, I had been using my straw splitter incorrectly. I was trying to score the straw with the point but it seems that the point needed to be inserted in the end of a straw and pulled down. I tried this technique but the results were little better than those achieved using my method. Alarmingly, I learned that 4000 straws were required to make a hat. I am glad I didn’t know this beforehand as I would not have contemplated investing £240 on straw. More encouragingly, the narrator went on to say that nine yards of plait could make a hat. I already had nearly five yards having used about fifty straws so something wasn’t computing here.

By day four I was getting both fast and neater, achieving 1·5 yards in twenty minutes.  Joining in new straws was still not very tidy but in general, the finished plait looked less messy than my first attempts, partly because I wasn’t plaiting to the thinnest end of the straws. I still wasn’t able to use my fingers in the approved manner. The discomfort in my right arm and shoulder continued and I still needed to recite the rhyme as I plaited but it was definitely becoming more instinctive. I did try putting the straws in my mouth, as Victorian plaiters would have done but I failed to see how the whole straw could be kept damp in this way.

At this point, I was excited to discover that great great granny, at the age of twelve, had won a prize for her plaiting. I am not sure those particular skills have passed to me. I began writing the final assignment, concentrating on describing the craft and telling the story.

Three more plaiting sessions and I thought I might have enough to make a hat. I started in the centre and began to pull the braid into a spiral, working in an anti-clockwise direction; this may be because I am naturally left-handed. This was a more uncomfortable process, with the rough straw scraping at the skin on the backs of my fingers. It was also difficult to keep the plait damp. I decided not to overlap the braid in the English fashion as that would require more plait. I didn’t really have much idea how to create a hat shape and wondered if I would end up with a flat circle. Professional hat-makers would have used a head-shaped block and steamed the straw into shape. I didn’t have the wherewithal to do this. In the end the shape evolved of its own accord as I continued to sew. I was concerned that it might be difficult to finish off the ends but this was relatively simple as the ends of unplaited straw could be tucked into the weave.

The finished object resembled a pudding basin or lampshade, rather than a hat and certainly wasn’t neat and stylish. The underside of the straw is very scratchy, making it uncomfortable to wear. I did try tying it on as an alternative way to wear it.

Whilst I was pleased to have created a finished product, I was a little disappointed not to have made something that I could actually wear in public, even if only when I am living in the seventeenth century. I am not a natural crafts-person and I am also a perfectionist. What I produced was far from perfect but I enjoyed the process. The repetitive action of the plaiting was therapeutic but I certainly wouldn’t want to spend my working life as a plaiter of straw. I particularly valued the chance to step into my ancestor’s shoes and feel an even closer connection to Ann as a result of this project. Highly recommended for all family historians. Would I try this again? My heart says yes but my head knows that there isn’t room in my life to pursue craft activities with much rigor. I can see myself demonstrating the plaiting technique if the occasion arises. I have revisited my research into Ann’s family, with particular emphasis on the social context and the role that straw-plaiting played in the community and her life; I feel that I can now do so with greater insight. Watch this space for a post about Ann.

The course has been a great experience. I have learned a great deal about experimental archaeology and still more about material culture. I have climbed some technological hills and crafting mountains. I have met some hugely talented, diverse fellow students and we plan to keep in touch. So what next? There are plans. It may be that there will be an online MA on offer, which is tempting, further study does appeal. I am however mindful of how many things I still want to achieve and maybe I need to start prioritising as tempus is fugitting away like mad (it is still May isn’t it?). There is an exciting potential project in the offing with my coven lovely group of ladies. I have a non-fiction book to finish writing. I really want to focus on telling more stories from my own family history and as a result of this course, focussing on some of the family heirlooms and telling their stories before they are lost. I do still hanker after learning Cornish, remember I got as far as buying the books in lockdown?

Ann Palmer’s Story

by thehistoryinterpreter

Please be aware that this post contains information about an historic child murder and mental distress.

I am still fighting the not-quite-working computer issues but I have paused the list of 101 things to do before September (err that would be tomorrow – oops) to share the story of Ann Palmer.

I first came across Ann when researching for a talk and book chapter about investigating the stories of our ancestors in asylums. This led me to a class of records that are at The National Archives but also online at Ancestry. The Criminal Lunatic Asylum Registers, kept by the National Lunatic Asylum and county and metropolitan asylums, are in class HO20 and cover the period 1800-1843. These contain a wealth of detail about those who had been convicted of criminal offences but were deemed to be insane. I could have spent hours looking at the detailed accounts of these tragic situations but one in particular caught my eye. This was the entry for Ann Palmer, from Dagenham, Essex, who was convicted of murder at Chelmsford Assizes in 1823. It read:

‘The jury having found that she was insane at the time of the commission of the offence declare that she was acquitted by them on account of such insanity. From Dagenham, Essex.

Previous to Commitment. About 25 years since she partially cut her throat while she lived servant at Newington. Is said to have been a good and affectionate mother. Was married to a very afflicted man who kept a small public house at Marks Gate, Padnell Corner, Dagenham and became much afflicted in her mind at her husband’s death, which happened a short time before her commitment in consequence of her being informed that his body had been stolen from the grave.

Conduct in goal since. Decidedly insane, sometimes violent, at others dull and moody but not dangerous to those about her.

Thos. Cawkivell Goaler, Jas. Hutchinson Chaplain.

The state of her bodily health varied much during the period of her confinement but more particularly since the time of her trial. She was at one time reduced to so feeble a state that considerable apprehensions were entertained of her probable dissolution but she has within the last 10 or 12 days become more tranquil and has appeared gradually to acquire a strength insomuch that I have no hesitation in pronouncing her capable of safe removal to any place which may be appointed for her. 14 August 1823 G A Gepp Surgeon.’

The record also revealed that Ann was 43 years old and died on 23February 1824.

I had a quick look for Ann in the newspaper archive but failed to find anything and Palmer was a common name, so I wasn’t getting anywhere and in any case, I had other things on the urgent list.

Every couple of weeks I get together with a lovely group of ladies to chat about family history; we enjoy encouraging each other and sharing our successes, failures and tips. I brought Ann’s case to the group. Collectively we found not one but two newspaper reports. The first, in the Public Ledger and Daily Advertiser of the 21st of July 1823 gave details of Ann’s crime.

            ‘Chelmsford July 17. Ann Palmer was indicted for the murder of her infant son, at Romford. This case excited considerable interest, and sensibly affected a very crowded auditory. The wretched prisoner, a poor widow with nine children, was place at the bar in a state of mental stupor, and it was with difficulty she was made to understand the arraignment. She, however, pleaded not guilty, and the trial proceeded.

Ann Savell deposed that she had known the prisoner about three months. On the 23rd of May the prisoner’s eldest daughter called witness into the prisoner’s house, when she saw the deceased, who was only eleven months old, stretched lifeless upon a bed, but the body was still warm. The prisoner was in the room, and witness said to her, “the dear baby is no more, but you must reconcile yourself to the event. The Lord’s will be done, not ours.” She replied, “the Lord had nothing to do with it; I killed my baby.” She seemed then much agitated, and witness left the house horror-struck at the circumstance.

Mary Palmer, the prisoner’s eldest daughter, deposed that her father had been dead about four months. Her mother was quite overpowered with grief at his loss. There was a rumour that his body had been disturbed in the grave, which very much increased her grief. Indeed she was quite distracted with sorrow, and at times did not know what she said or did. She was a woman of very acute feelings, and was doatingly attached to her husband and children. She had suckled the deceased baby herself, and was passionately fond of him. She had often sat whole days since her husband’s death, weeping over the baby. She had often said she would kill herself, Before this time she had frequently said, laughing wildly, that the baby was dead and gone to heaven. On the 24th May she called to witness, and told her the baby was dead. She was then crying bitterly and wringing her hands. There was a small black mark on the left temple.

A Constable of Romford deposed that he saw the prisoner some time after the child was found dead. She was then violently beating her head, weeping and wringing her hands. She said, distractedly, “Hell! Hell, hell! I have murdered my baby. I meant the blow or myself, but it fell upon the baby. The beetle with which I did it stands behind the door. I have murder in my heart, and have carried a razor about me this fortnight.” She appeared quite wild and distracted.

Mr Curruthers, a surgeon, deposed that he examined the body often child. Its death was occasioned by a blow to the back of the head. It might have been with such an instrument as a beetle or mallet.

This was the case for the prosecution; upon which Mr Baron Graham intonated, that he thought it unnecessary to call upon the prisoner for her defence. It was quite obvious that poverty and grief had overpowered the better affections of the heart, and had bereft the prisoner of her reason. If the Jury were of this opinion, they would find the prisoner not guilty upon that ground.

The Jury immediately found the prisoner Not Guilty, on the ground that she was insane at the time she committed the fatal act.

The prisoner was then ordered to be detained in custody.”

The Cambridge Chronicle and Journal of 25 July 1823 carries and almost identical report but adds that the child’s name was Thomas and the National Burial Index lists the burial of a Thomas Palmer in Romford on 27 May 1823.

Burning some midnight oil we found more entries in the online indexes to Essex parish registers, including the burial of a Joseph Palmer on 13 March 1823 ‘of Dagenham’ at Stapleford Abbotts. There are baptisms of several children of Joseph and Ann. Some of the children seem to have been baptised more than once, including in January 1824, in Dagenham, which seems odd, as Joseph would have been dead by then. The Dagenham baptisms do state that Joseph was a publican.

Next step, to persuade the member of our group who lives closest to take a look at the original records.

No appropriate image, so some flowers for Ann and her family.

Sources

Cambridge Chronicle and Journal 25 July 1823 p. 4 col. c.

Public Ledger and Daily Advertiser 21 of July 1823 p. 4 col. a.

Online indexes to Essex parish registers via www.findmypast.co.uk

The Criminal Lunatic Asylum Registers at The National Archives HO20/13, accessed via www.ancestry.co.uk

Of Procrastination and Potash Makers

by thehistoryinterpreter

Where have you been? I hear you cry. Actually, I suspect that you never noticed that this is probably my longest gap between posts ever. My recent adventures have included a lovely week on the Isle of Wight with some of my descendants, frantically trying to keep up with the grandchildren on Pokémon Go and some uplifting walks along the beach in the early morning. I have also been able to meet more than one set of old friends who have been holidaying in the area. It is a wonderful feeling when you get together with people you haven’t seen for twenty years and you can’t believe that you didn’t last chat a few weeks ago. There was also the chance to meet much newer online friends in person.

Mistress Agnes has ventured into a school for the first time since lockdown, you really can’t keep that good woman down. She is now frantically concocting herbal cures for some aggressive bites, acquired when standing in a field whilst her colleague shot a few people. There have been talks to give to audiences across the world, sadly only a virtual trip to Australia this time and courses to prepare. Next up is my five week online course for Pharos Tutoring and Teaching that focuses on researching family and local history in the first half of the twentieth century, with a whole new section to write on the 1921 census. Still space for you to enrol if you want to join in the fun on this one. As I was reviewing the course, I decided to go through it myself and add to the biography of my grandmother, which is making very slow progress.

The next non-fiction book now has nearly three chapters done, the latest has seen me researching a fascinating family from the Romani community, which includes the notorious ‘Gypsy King’, Wisdom Smith. The final term of my post-grad course has begun and with it the incentive to focus on a great great grandmother’s story but more of that in a separate post.

I have also done a fair bit of procrastinating and doing things that aren’t even on the frighteningly long to do list. I can’t even remember why I thought I’d do this but I took a look at how many direct ancestors I have discovered in 45 years of research. To save you the maths, if you go back to your 6x great grandparents, who, if you are my generation, were probably born in the first half of the eighteenth century, there are a potential 510 direct ancestors. I have full names for 203 of them, approximately 40%. I don’t count the ones where I don’t have the woman’s maiden name. I do have the names of more distant ancestors but after the 6x great grandparents the numbers are frightening and the success rate dwindles significantly, so I stopped at this point. My percentage found is probably not bad for someone with English ancestry; these ancestors come from nine English counties. One quarter of my ancestry suffers from pedigree collapse, as first cousins marry in two successive generations. This probably explains a lot but also means that one set of 4x great grandparents appear in my direct ancestry three times.

I decided I would put off doing what I should be doing and see how evenly spread these ancestors were across different branches of my family. To explain what I mean: I looked at each of my eight great grandparents in turn and calculated how many of their direct ancestors I had found in the preceding five generations; there are potentially 62 for each great grandparent. The greatest success is with my direct paternal, west country, line. I can identify 40/62 of great grandfather William James Braund’s ancestors, closely followed by 35/62 ancestors for his wife Fanny Thomasine Bishop. In fact, my father’s family holds third place too, with 33/62 ancestors of Caroline Howe on the tree. We will draw a veil over the 9/62 for great grandfather John Hogg. In my defence I am 95% sure of some of the missing ones. I just feel that I need one more piece of supporting evidence to ink in several generations of John Hogg’s Northumbrian ancestry. The statistics on my mother’s side are hampered by those pesky repeated 4x great grandparents who create a brick wall in three places, although again, I have my suspicions of who fits in the gaps.

The upshot of all this is that I tried to boost the numbers by looking again at a brick wall that I hadn’t investigated much before. Oh boy this looked interesting, potash makers, gentlemen, a chap who endorsed a quack doctor, claiming to have his hearing restored, in a newspaper advert of 1785 – great stuff. Slight side-track while I check exactly what potash makers did and add the newspaper advert to my history of medicine course. This branch was not a straightforward family to trace, due to their use of a very limited range of Christian names and the fact that they come from a county whose parish registers are only online in indexed form. Ooh look though, they left wills and I could obtain these from a very efficient record office within twenty four hours. This would be just the final confirmatory piece of the jigsaw I needed, then I too could follow the lead of the umpteen online trees who joined the potash maker (he of the miracle cure) and the gentleman to my tree. Except I can’t. A great will, mentioning five generations of the testator’s family, which clearly none of those online tree compilers have read. Back to the drawing board and I feel a mini one-name study coming on, when I should of course be doing something else entirely. Is the potash maker mine or not? Watch this space.

To add to the fun, the job I must not mention has now arrived with a vengeance but I may post here as light relief.

Reflections on the Young Genealogists’ Conference

by thehistoryinterpreter

Now that the dust is settling after the Young Genealogists’ conference, it is time for some reflections. What hasn’t settled is the buzz on social media, where #GenieYouthCon comments are still coming in. Firstly, a huge thank you to all who contributed in any way. The Society of Genealogists and the Family History Federation, who came together to get this off the ground, the hosts, everyone, of all ages, who came along to listen, those who responded so readily when I asked for door prizes: Pharos Tutoring and Teaching, the Society for One-Place Studies and Devon Family History Society, My Heritage and the Society of Genealogists who offered membership discounts, I will be casting my net wider next time! Those who spread the word on social media, the list goes on. Most of all, thank you to the ten speakers, who came from across the English-speaking world to enthuse, inspire and educate us.

The day exceeded my expectations; I must admit to a couple of sleepless nights with three weeks to go, when bookings were coming in very slowly. Obviously, I could be said to be biased, so here are some comments from other people (these were taken at random – I haven’t cherry-picked the 5* reviews): ‘It was a wonderful day of talks, and note taking of new ideas. Thank you jointly, for getting this conversation going.’ ‘It was a great event! Thank you to everyone involved. I missed a couple of speakers but hoping they crop up again in some other events. I didn’t apply to talk this year as the anxiety was just too real!! But..maybe next year?!’ ‘Echoing those calling for the #GenieYouthCon to be a fixture in the Genie calendar. I was there to share the benefits of @AGRAGenealogy membership but came away with my whole perspective change. It was a real education and left me excited for the future of the profession.’

We didn’t ask the attendees their age but I estimate that perhaps 40% of those who took part were under forty. The majority of the audience were from the UK, understandable in view of the time zones but there were attendees from Australia, New Zealand, Canada, Ireland and the USA. I was expecting people to drop in for one or two sessions and depart. A few did do that but a hard core stayed all day, even a couple for whom ‘all day’ was 2am-2pm.

To me, the most positive parts of the event were the discussions; not just those that took place in the time-tabled discussion slots but also the conversations that were had during what were meant to be breaks but when people couldn’t bear to tear themselves away.

Was it perfect in every way? Of course not. It was an inaugural event and there are inevitably things that would be tweaked another time. In any case, one person’s ‘perfect’ is another person’s ‘falling short’. In retrospect, maybe it was a shame that it wasn’t set up to make it possible for at least some of the presentations to be available for people to watch later. That decision was taken from a safeguarding standpoint; we were mindful that we were encouraging young people to take part, including those under the age of 18. In fact, some of the presenters are now putting their own presentations in a public forum and others are repeating their sessions elsewhere. I do feel that the conference succeeded in showcasing some exciting young presenters and I am sure many of them have already been booked to talk elsewhere. We’ve had discussions about what younger family historians want from the wider genealogy community and I really feel that we have moved the debate forward in a positive way. Roll on next time.

What will Family History look like in the Future?

by thehistoryinterpreter

As someone who is now in their forty sixth year of serious family history research, I have watched the family history movement grow and change (not always for the better) over many years. That growth and development will continue and so it should. We should not be content with doing things the way that they have always been done. Neither, of course, should we look to make changes just for change’s sake. The pandemic has forced changes on many aspects of our lives and the way that genealogical societies function is no exception. The past few years has, finally, seen the door to the family history community open a little wider. There is still a long way to go along the road to inclusivity but those first small steps are being taken, even if the difference may seem imperceptible.

Genealogy has, with some justification, long been perceived as a pursuit for middle-aged (ok let’s be honest here – old), middle-class, white people. This needs to change. There are ways of enabling all to engage in the hobby/obsession that many of us enjoy but it is not up to those who currently feel excluded to break down the barriers. There are things that we should all do to be more welcoming and to make the family history world more accessible and inclusive. Everyone has a heritage and no one should feel excluded from exploring their own story. It is clear that one group who have felt that the some aspects of the genealogy community have not been welcoming or accessible, are younger family historians. I know they are not the only group who have felt this but for now, let us focus on the young because without them, before long, there will be no genealogy community.

Understandably, as part of the evolutionary process of the family history movement, many young people want to pursue the search for their heritage in a different way to those of us whose journey began in the 1970s, or 1990s, or 2010s. There is an increasing focus on identity, in its many forms, on story-telling and on understanding the past as a vehicle towards well-being in the present. The genealogical world is evolving and there is the prospect of a fascinating future emerging. It won’t look like the family history world that some of us older genealogists have become comfortable with but there is room for all. Please, don’t think I am suggesting that everything needs to change. I know many were quite content with the status quo. New ways of approaching research, of running genealogical societies, of opening up the community, can sit alongside what is already in place, not necessarily replace provision that is already there.

I hope that everyone who takes family history seriously will be interested in this intriguing ‘what next?’. Your chance to glimpse the future is here. You can attend the online youth conference, organised jointly by the Society of Genealogists and the Family History Federation, on 7 May. This event showcases young presenters. There are some interesting new perspectives on family history being shared by some extremely knowledgeable speakers. The presenters are young but the conference is for everyone. There are more than twelve hours of presentations for the token amount of £1.50. It would be unbearably patronising of me to suggest that attendance was about supporting the next generation of family historians, although they would welcome that support. You will enjoy what is on offer and learn from those who are making their mark in the genealogy community. Come to hear one presentation, come to hear them all but please do register for the day. These are real-time only presentations, so no recordings but even if you can only pop in to listen to one or two, it is a bargain. I know that we will be hearing more from these young people in the future. The day is also an opportunity for programme organisers to find new speakers for meetings and conferences. There are ten presenters, all under the age of thirty, from five countries and everyone, of all ages, is encouraged to come along. It is going to be a great day. The programme is here and bookings can be made here.

The Experimental Archaeology Adventure Part 9: from a thing to things

by thehistoryinterpreter

I am now, sadly, halfway through this course. It really does come highly recommended if you are interested in the objects of the past. It is wonderful that it has been made available as an option for distance learning. You have until 3 June to apply for a place on next year’s course. Ideal if you are a traditional craftsperson, historical interpreter or family historian. Although ‘archaeology’ conjures up visions of ancient artefacts and there is, understandably, a good dollop of input about fascinating older ‘stuff’ the flexibility of the course has meant that I can concentrate on a much more recent era. I was sad to miss the opportunity to be in-person at the amazing Centre for Experimental Archaeology and Material Culture (CEAMAC) but it wasn’t to be for me – maybe another time.

The assignment about Jessie’s Locket has been and gone. I created a wonderful powerpoint plus soundtrack before realising that the time limit was ten minutes. I decided that I might not get away with sixteen minutes, so editing was needed. I was in a better position than some of my colleagues whose efforts topped forty minutes but still an issue. I reluctantly axed some of the material and then gabbled away in an unprofessionally speedy fashion to cram what was left into ten minutes and fourteen seconds. I now await the results with trepidation.

Attention has turned to a lengthier assignment, focussing on bringing an archaeological perspective to the examination of a collection of objects. Again, it was difficult to choose but I have decided on the collection of family photographs that pre-date my birth. These photographs are currently housed in a single album. Part one of the assignment is to describe the collection, so I have begun by categorising the images, which are almost all of people, rather than places or events. Having counted them, I was surprised to find that there are 554! They will take a while to catalogue and yes, I do know that I have many still to scan but that is not part of the assignment. The next and most interesting, stage is to write about their significance, their meaning and to think about how I react to these images. I have a horrible feeling that this may become uncharacteristically sentimental if I am not careful. Finally, I have to consider the ongoing future of the collection and look at comparative studies. That’s going to be the difficult bit. If anyone can point me in the direction of papers about the curation and conservation of specific photographic collections, I’d be grateful. So far, I’ve found a book for £198.02 that I might have to give a miss.

I have free rein regarding how I present this assignment and I have decided that one can have too much of chatting to your computer, so this will be an extended, illustrated essay, with plans to put the results on this, or possibly another, website. Watch this (or another) space.

I sometimes think that I have learned as much about social media on this course as I have about Experimental Archaeology. I have scaled the learning curves that are WhatsApp, Discord and now it seems I have found myself on ‘Insta’ (see I am learning the lingo). I did accidentally follow Adele by mistake but I think I am getting the hang. Not yet decided how I might use it but if you want to follow me feel free JanetFewHistory.

Old photograph of a mother and child with a doll's pram
A favourite from my collection 1926

Family History in Springtime and a Decorating Debacle

by thehistoryinterpreter

It is Women’s History month. I really should be getting on with granny’s biography but that seems to have slipped to the bottom of the very long to do list. I was chuffed to see that The National Archives were recommending my book Remember Then for Women’s History week. There are still copies hiding under the spare bed of a fisherman of my acquaintance, if you’d like you cross my palm with silver. I have no idea why it is on sale on Amazon for £19.90. You can get it from me for the proper price of £12.95, just get in touch. In anticipation of a visit to the area where they originated, I have taken a look at granny’s deeper ancestry. I even managed to find a couple of new 5th and 6th x great grandparents but the mystery of which of two Johns is my 4x great grandfather remains. Fortunately, the Johns are first cousins, so, after what I call a wiring diagram, indicating the either/or, the line can be continued back to the sixteenth century.

Having decided, reluctantly, not to go to Ireland this month, in theory my diary should have been clear. Explain to me then how I have had something on, on thirteen evenings out of the last fifteen. It would have been fourteen but one was cancelled. On the strength of a nominally ‘free’ month. I decided it was time to decorate the hall and landing. The above-mentioned fisherman offered to do the death-defying balancing ladders on the stairs stuff. I was a bit reluctant to agree to this but was persuaded. Fortunately, that part was accomplished without incident. I couldn’t watch. The idea was that I would do most of the rest but in the end my role was limited to affixing miles of masking tape round door frames. This wasn’t as easy as it sounds as the reel of tape had been lying around for a while and peeled off the roll in three inch lengths. After a couple of hours I had completed the task. Halls and landing have so many doors. I sat down to some computer work, smugly content that the job was done. Leaving the room shortly afterwards, I was dismayed to see streamers of masking tape dangling from every point. A new reel of tape was purchased and I did it all again. I should say that my hall and landing could not be smaller. The hall is three foot square and the landing is a narrow corridor. There is nothing in the space. How then, has this decorating endeavour meant that there is evidence of its undertaking in every other room?

I still have a mile long playlist of Rootstech sessions to watch. In the meantime, on the horizon, there are three other key events to highlight. In chronological order:- Do check out the Historians for Ukraine event on 26 and 27 March.  I had hoped to be involved in this but I will be in a field and I don’t know how reliable my internet will be, so I will be cheering from the sidelines and hope to take part in a spin off event. An event that I am actively involved in is a Free 24 Hour Genealogy Marathon, run by Legacy on 7 and 8 April. You can register for that here.

Then on 7 May is the Youth Genealogy Conference. I get a sneak peak at the speakers’ submissions and I’ve been excited by the response. This is going to be a great day, with some thought provoking and interesting talks from some knowledgeable younger presenters. Don’t worry, I will make sure everyone knows how to attend. There is no age limit on the audience!

The website creation for the Braund family continues. I was advised that there were accessibility issues. For example, not all of the many images had alternative text, which is necessary to enable those with a screen reader to know what is in them. A bit of poking about in the bowels of Wix and I discovered a button to press to identify accessibility problems on the site. Button duly pressed, the whole site ground to a halt. After this had happened several times, I started going through the images individually and checking that they had alternate text. I tried the button again and 99 issues remained. It seems that we had had so many issues that we’d broken the system. All sorted now on the accessibility front, so it is back to the exciting job of continuing to add content.

To accentuate the positive, in my hemisphere there are wonderful signs of spring in the air. I am writing this at 5.30 am, watching the sky lighten and it is warm enough to open the window and listen to the symphony that is the birds’ wake up call.

Sunrise

Rootstech Roundup

by thehistoryinterpreter

Well, one week on and I really thought it was time for a RootsTech round up. I have to say that I haven’t yet had time to sample many sessions. That’s the advantage of knowing that these will still be there for me to watch gradually over the coming months. It does also mean that I have been a little lazy about working my way through my playlist. I must admit that, with 1222 presenters, many offering multiple sessions, navigating my way to what might interest or intrigue me is a bit of a challenge. I tend to rely on the recommendations of others and looking for speakers that I know, first of all. Next, I look at topics of interest and I did find it a little difficult to locate these. Finally, I always try to add something that is out of my comfort zone and/or by speakers I don’t know. I’ll be honest I usually avoid the keynote sessions, although I know others enjoy these. This year there was an international line-up but in the absence of anyone I’d heard of, I have given these a miss so far.

I started off very early on the Friday morning, joining in with Michelle Patient and Fiona Brooker of Talking Family History, who were solving brick walls. This was really enjoyable and Fiona and Michelle coped admirably with some technological challenges and the absence of their third panellist due to illness.

I had one other live session high on my list of must watches and that was the discussion led by Lynn Broderick and Jill Ball on ‘Dealing with Ethical Dilemmas in an Online World’. This should be essential watching for all family historians who engage online. Sadly, a prior commitment meant that I couldn’t listen live and it took a few days for it to become available. I was particularly pleased to hear Jill’s opening tribute to the indigenous settlers of their lands and their contribution to the history of the past. Lynn and Jill had assembled an all-star panel to tackle some crucial issues, each of which really deserved a whole session on its own. It was great to have Daniel of The Hidden Branch as part of the team. Again, there were some minor technical gremlins as the presenters tried to share their polls but these did not distract from the discussion. As a viewer of the recording, we couldn’t see the questions, maybe something that presenters should be warned of in advance so they can include a slide with the questions. A shame too that there was no access to the chat after time.

Judy Russell’s contribution to this panel on copyright is also something that many people in the genealogy community need to hear. It is alarming but sadly unsurprising, how many people aren’t adhering to the ethical or even the legal issues in this regard. Just because we can, does not mean we should. Equally unsurprising and worrying was the level of ignorance about which DNA companies use their database for law-enforcement purposes.

For some light relief, I listened to Caroline Gurney on the folk traditions of Maypole and Morris dancing. Next up was ‘Around the World with the 1921 Census’ with Jen Baldwin; great to hear one-place studies getting a mention. An excellent case-study session was Michelle Patient’s ‘Finding Frank’. I have so many more sessions to work through; I’ll comment on these when I get to them. Oh, and I am having great fun with Relatives at Rootstech – of which more another time.

It has also been great to to get positive feedback on my own sessions, which you can find here.