Thursday, October 28, 2010

Enough is Enough -

It's been a long, hard, sort of week - so many of you are having a rough time, Dorkys with her Toby, Punkn with her ear, Parsley with seasonal blues, Aunt of 14 with a job prospect that didn't pan out due to her "handicap", many others with health issues, some with major job dissatisfaction, others with family having legal hassles... it seemed nearly every corner of my blogosphere was ailing. And then last night...

Last night, while reading an e-mail from a dear, heartbroken, friend who lost her father to cancer Sunday morning, my phone bleated, I had just gotten a text message from my Mom.

"Rough day today, Molly is no longer with us."

molly enjoys a warm sun
Molly enjoying a late autumn day in a warming sun. She was a happy, gentle soul. Content to just be with you at your side.

molly sleeps at the porch door
Molly got a little hard of hearing in her last years, so she slept at the backdoor so no one came or went without her knowing it. She wanted to be able to greet her family warmly when they arrived.

the methacton oak described in the text
On the way home from work last night, it was drizzling lightly when I saw the clouds begin to thin and the sky brighten towards the west, so I pulled in to the parking lot at the Methacton Mennonite Church ... As I got out of the car, the sun broke through the overcast and was setting through the huge canopy of the 375+ year old Methacton Oak, casting a weird sort of light on the almost as ancient cemetery this magnificent tree towers over.

I walked the rows of gravestones rather aimlessly, looking for "Rittenhouse" and saw the many "Heebner"s and "Detwielers". All early settlers in my area.

Was the odd light...telling me something?

I felt uneasy, as if some mumbled voice was saying something, but I could not call it up to the forefront of my jumbled thoughts. Was it saying, "Some bad news is on the way"? or was it saying, "The dreary gloom will break and the sun will shine again - take courage"?

This morning, things are a little better - someone successfully carved a pumpkin, someone recently bravely conquered a leaf monster making me very proud of her. Another person, in the throes of ending a bad relationship, got a very cool job. And best of all, a certain kid named Ryan videoed antics cracked me up.
a stain glass window featuring a playful manatee
There are many kinds of shifting light, the brightening gloom, the clear sunshine drifting through puffy clouds, the pink colored sunset fading to violet and blackness, and there is a light that comes from within us and shines with various levels of intensity - depending on our moods.

Today, my feeble, flickering light shines through the colored lenses of another's handiwork... the combination of light and glass glows softly as I hope to offer comfort to those that are grieving, both family and friends... as well as those that are troubled... I haven't the ability to do much more - and must take leave for a while - but you will be with me - and as surely as you see orange cones on your daily path, I will see you through the many things that remind me of all of you.

Take care and see you soon -

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Winner! Winner! Chicken Dinner!

Recently, a package arrived at my door from Parsley of Seasons of My Mind. She is the talented cross-stitching, unmatched award winning 4-H leader, multi-dog owner with a huge heart of gold. She was the one that sent me all the neat Oklahoma goodies a while back when I won her postcard giveaway (details here).

Before I go on - I want to wish Parsley a speedy recovery from a recent bit of upset and trouble. If you thoughtful readers would, please visit her blog and give her a 'I hope you feel your bestest soonest' as she continues to struggle. Go back a couple post if you need to, to find a place to comment. I would be most grateful and appreciative.

a picture of the CD set, it has a sky blue cover with a small flock of black birds flying to the right
Inside the surprise package, was an 8-CD set containing Joshua Ferris' second novel, The Unnamed.

Joshua Ferris constructs his new novel, "The Unnamed," around one of Emily Dickinson's most devastating poems, "After Great Pain a Formal Feeling Comes"

AFTER great pain, a formal feeling comes--
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs--
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?

The Feet, mechanical, go round--
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought--
A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone--

This is the Hour of Lead--
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons recollect the Snow--
First--Chill--then Stupor--then the letting go--

Emily Dickinson (1862)

My understanding of this poem is this: Emily Dickinson was tracing the numbness experienced after some terrible blow. Numbness one way we protect ourselves against the onrush of pain and against being overwhelmed by suffering.

Novelist Ferris drops realism to ask but what if we did live without distractions? Not just the petty ones, such as e-mail, but all the carrots: a promotion, a successful resolution to that all-important lawsuit, a vacation in the British Virgin Islands?

Ferris examines this question by giving his protagonist, Tim, an undiagnosed condition that periodically returns that wrenches him out of the rat race. "A happily married father of one with a partnership at a fancy Manhattan law firm, Tim can't stop walking. He might be at his desk at Troyer, Barr and Atkins, LLP or in bed with his wife, Jane, when suddenly he's seized with an irresistible compulsion to walk.

If he's lucky, he'll have on hiking boots and a provision-filled backpack. But if he's hatless in winter, his disease is no less cruel. It forces him to slog for miles along city streets and highways or through the woods, until he collapses into a deep sleep." (quoted/paraphrased from here)

I came away thinking, "Despite all the progress human society has made, there's still something shameful about having a mental illness, some lingering, unfair impression that the 'afflicted ones' need to just try harder to be normal."

The novel is beautifully narrated, and contains some exceptional bits of music. As a compulsive walker prone to bouts of depression and OCD weirdness, I can relate to the Tim in a small way - As an admirer of good writing, I admire this novel.

Thank you Parsley! This was quite a surprise, an awesome giveaway! and a thought-provoking piece of work indeed.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Found on eBay

First, I want to thank everyone that commented on the previous entry. Your suggestions and support are very important to me. Thank you Junyah, for the links and information on how to follow up with the Veterans Administration. I will be following up on the matter of the missing gravestones - time will tell what results I have.

While searching the Internet for old pictures of seashore, I found this postcard listed on eBay. Imagine my suprise when I saw the name of the publisher. I might not of even noticed or recognised it, except that I had just oh-so-recently learned who the man was...

a postcard showing the boardwalk at Wildwood, NJ

the backside of the postcard showing published by George Mousley
Boardwalk
Location: Wildwood, N.J.
Maker: Geo. E. Mousley, Phila, Pa. Made in USA
Postmarked: Yes
Stamp: Yes
Year: 1910
Size: 3 1/2" x 5 1/2"

George Edward Mousley was a "cousin" of mine. He was born in Philadelphia, PA in 1862 and died in 1940 and is buried in Camden, NJ.

George's father came to the United States around 1845 with his father Joseph and brother Charles. The elder George is the one that went on the fishing trips with my g-g-g-father Charles that I wrote about (here).

George's father, George owned a stationary business in the heart of the Philadelphia business district. Young George however decided to branch out and start his own business so, at the age of 21, he opened up an importer, wholesaler, and retail shop selling stationary, toys, and fireworks on Germantown Avenue in what is now the "Northern Liberties" section of town (just north of center city).

His lasting claim to fame was his postcards and toys. Geo. E. Mousley, Inc. was the first to sell prepackaged Christmas Stockings filled with toys. Business was very good, and George opened a manufacturing plant in Camden, NJ and moved across the Delaware River.

1950 Vintage Toy Pony
1950 Vintage Toy Pony Made by Geo. E. Mousley

When George died, the business was sold to a firm from New York, and it later moved to West Warwick, Rhode Island.


Many items, such as the Lassie "Trick Trainer" toy shown above, and "Pitch to Mickey Mantle" were made by George E. Mousley, Inc. (later known as G. E. M.)

The Lassie Trick Trainer toy was actually a set of items that a young boy or girl could use to train their dog. Lassie was first introduced in a best selling novel in 1938. She then appeared on the silver screen, went on to radio productions and finally moved on to that newfangled gadget called the television. In 1954, the Campbell’s Soup Company also of Camden, NJ, sponsored "The Lassie Show". Campbell’s was commercially involved with The Howdy Doody Show and the Mickey Mouse Club, but found a real winner with Lassie. Ultimately 35 million viewers sat before the television set on Sunday evenings watching the adventures of Lassie and having warm thoughts about Campbell’s soups and wonder if their own dogs could be trained to be just like Lassie.

In the Pitch to Mickey game, kids would try to improve their hand-eye coordination skills by trying to throw a ball into one of the four circles on the Mickey Mantle game board. Three of the four holes were outs and one of the holes scored a home rum. The playing board featured a nice photo of Mickey batting left-handed with an airbrushed Yankee pinstriped uniform. This game dates back to the early 1960s.

George had an uncle whose family ran several hotels in Wildwood, NJ named the Rosemont, the New Rosemont, and the Delwyn. I'm still checking, but I believe one of those hotels is shown in the postcard I found on eBay.

I think there will be some more interesting (to me at least) stories of the relatives. I know there was one that successfully raced wooden boats on the Saint Lawrence River and lived in Miami... I might investigate his story next.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

My Great Great Uncle Russell

Recently I took a trip to the Hillside Cemetery to visit the "family plot" there. I've never been there before - as I've only recently learned that it existed. According to the lady that answered the phone call made before the visit, there were at least eight, possibly nine or more of my ancestors buried there, including my great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather.

When growing up, I didn't see many relatives as my dad was an only child and my mother was born years after her older siblings. The very few aunts, uncles, and cousins that I had, where mostly miles away in California and Massachusetts and out of reach a day or weekend trip.

My grandfather has never spoken much about his parents or grandparents - there was what I'll call the "Great Family Argument of 1930" - an argument that led my grandfather having bitter feelings towards his parents and his parents siblings. This bitterness led to me and my brothers not knowing any of the relatives from my grandfather's side of the family - relatives that actually lived in the neighborhood.

Forgive me for babbling, I'm still trying to mentally digest this.

an application filled in by Russell Mousley to get a world war one service medal
My great-great-uncle Russell died a few short weeks before I was born. I never knew the man.


I never met his childless, widowed wife, Mary Frances Rhoades either, despite the fact she lived nearby for many years. When I saw saw her grave marker - I saw the veteran flags and no other marker nearby. Puzzled, I figured out from the paperwork the cemetery gave me, that the flags were for her husband Russell - who has no visible gravestone. My great-grandparents and great-great-parents were also missing gravestones. A little troubled by this - I sought to learn why the stones were missing and what I could do about it. Russell, being a wounded, honorably discharged, war veteran, is qualified for a "free" gravestone from the US Government. Where is it and what happened to it?

I felt an inexplicable need to know more about the man - and I'm actually pretty ignorant when it comes to WWI. While searching for information on how the veteran's gravestone business is done, I found his application for a WWI service medal and also learned he had a "Certificate of Wound". From this, I gleaned he served in Machine Gun Company 315 of the 79th Infantry.

The Certificate of Wound was given in WWI - it predates the Purple Heart which was first given in the 1930's. A veteran with such a certificate could send it in and get a Purple Heart later on in the 1940s. Whether my g-g-uncle did this or not, I do not know - there seems to be no on-line listing of Purple Heart recipients (which must number in the hundreds of thousands, if not more).

three men man a machine gun in a war torn, barb wired nightmare
Anyway, what little I knew of WWI was that the Meuse-Argonne offensive was the last major battle in the war, and that it was fought largely by the Americans - their first and only major combat battle in the war - the defeated Germans signing the Armistice shortly afterward. In just four short months, over 1.25 million Americans saw combat and 10% of them were casualties. 120,000 men were killed or wounded.

My g-g-uncle Russell, a member of the 79th Infantry was involved in this horrible battle.

I looked up Adolph Hitler involvement in WWI as I knew he served in it and had been wounded twice - the last time being blinded by mustard gas in Belgium - so he didn't see any American soldiers or my g-g-uncle Russell.

map of the battlefield
As horrible as the American losses were in WWI, the British, French, and German losses were far, far worse. War is a brutal way of solving differences. A family squabble can be as brutal to those involved or effected by the fall-out.

I am left mostly wondering two things -

1) Do I have enough energy to tackle the bureaucratic paper form-filling mess that getting a gravestone for Russell will entail?

2) Was my g-g-aunt Mary Frances lonely in her final years, wondering why her nephews never called?

Friday, October 22, 2010

Why I Support Public TV

As many of you know, I'm a staunch supporter of Public Television. It's not just the British Comedies, Masterpiece Theater, Scientific explorations such as Nova, Nature shows, and the hours of cooking shows - its the thought-provoking broadcasts that make you think like nothing commercial television ever does.

Recently, Photojournalist Rita of Soul Comfort's Corner brought to my attention a new series I had missed, called "Independent Lens", an Emmy award-winning independent film series featuring documentaries and dramas -- a film festival in your living room. It is dedicated to an eclectic group of film makers exploring some fringe areas of the human condition. Or not-so-human condition.

a man with no shirt on stands in a parking lot with his arms, legs, and head stuck in orange cones

The same man with another parking lot attendent trying to lasso him with a heavy rope

successfully lassoed the other attendent smiles and laughs

Somehow, I think I've missed my calling - I should have been an Independent Film Maker - somehow though, I think my attempts to film orange cones fondly known as OCHAs such as this attempt (here) would have required me to err.. ah lets say, expose myself to a genre of music described as "porno music" when I laid in the sound track.

I don't think that would be PBS material...

Monday, October 18, 2010

A day with the folks...

I haven't written much lately - it has been mostly a case of the post-summer blahs I think, but this past weekend, I ventured out and took two trips. One was to the Hillside Cemetery in Roslyn, PA which is located on the historic Susquehanna and Easton roads and opened in 1890.

Back in the early days of European settlement, William Penn, the founder of the Pennsylvania Colony, negotiated with the Lenape Native Americans to allow white settlement in the colony between the Delaware River and the Susquehanna River to the west where the towns of Harrisburg, Columbia, Lancaster, and York would soon be built. One of the early roads west from the center of Philadelphia pre-dating the Revolutionary War was the Susquehanna (Algonquian Indian for 'muddy current') Road.

I went hoping to find the gravestones of my great-grandfather and his wife, and my great-great-grand-father and his wife, my great-great-great-uncle and his wife as well as five other ancestors. I might write about that trip soon. What I found wasn't quite what I expected. On Sunday, I drove over to my parents because my mom promised me dinner in return for me fixing her computer's printer (actually I would have gone in any event, but dinner was super-delicious).

pumpkins and flowering mums in the park
Before dinner, my dad and I walked over to Washington Crossing Historic Park to see the Harvest Day celebration. It was a bright and sunny day and it grew rather warm. My mother joined us, and we crossed the river and walked on the Delaware and Raritan Canal around the charming town of Titusville. I went hoping for some autumn foliage pictures - but...it's not quite here yet.

a picture of the river through very green trees - the sun sparkling on the water
Its still pretty green along the Delaware River near Trenton, NJ.

piles of magazines all airplane related
While at my folks, my dad returned all the magazines he's "borrowed" from me lately, and they form quite a stack. If any of you have a young son or daughter who is crazy for all things airplane - let me know - and I will send all or part of this stack on its way to you.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Reuben ConeCaid

Ever since the Partridge Family broke up in the mid-1970s, Reuben ConeCaid has been looking for a new act to manage. He finally hooked up with the super-hot Conas Brothers and is once again, a very busy cone.

This weekend, thanks to Lynn over at Ramblin' Southern Woman who arranged it, he managed to get away from the endless press releases and marketing headaches to join me on the Chester River for a couple days a float.

a knitted cone takes command at the houseboat's helm messing with the ships wheel and engine throttles
Reuben, being used to being in command, immediately wanted to check out the helm and see which direction the ship was heading and at what speeds. I had to tell him the boat was tied up at the pier.

I think he was a little disappointed, but he hollered, "Point Me In The Direction Of Albuquerque!" I shrugged and pointed westward and didn't bother to tell him Albuquerque was in the middle of the desert.

a knitted cone checks out dinner - hotdogs and rolls and cold water
He then checked out the galley, saying, "All that sea air makes a man really hungry!" As I got busy with the food preparations, I could have sworn he was whistling, "Whale Song" and believe me, I was very happy it wasn't "I Think I Love You!"

A knitted cone checks out the dinning table - he needs a booster seat
Unfortunately, Reuben is just a short little guy. For him, "It`s A Long Way To Heaven" or at least two or three feet further than it is for the rest of us. I had to get him a couple thick Waterman's Guides to Tying Knots books and a phonebook to sit on before he could see his plate on the table.

a knitted cone sits on (the lid) of the toilet
After a dinner high in fiber, Reuben enjoyed the novelty of a floating throne - and sang "I Can Feel Your Heartbeat" to himself while in the head. I think he was somewhat embarrassed when he had to ask me how to flush the toilet. "It doesn't have a jiggle handle, Iggy!" He was most astonished when I pressed the little black button on the far rim of the vanity - an electric toilet!

a knitted cone inspects his bunking quarters
Much too excited to sleep, it was only early evening anyway, Reuben bounced up and down on his bed and hummed, since he didn't know the words to "Where Do We Go From Here?"

Suddenly I heard Reuben hollering, "Iggy! Iggy! Come here, I see a Partridge!"

The view out the back of the houseboat and of a bird standing on top of a pole in the middle of the river
I put down my bucket and sponge and double-timed it the stern of the houseboat where I saw an odd bird standing with his head hutched down on top of the old Osprey's nest. "Reuben, you silly ol' cone, that's not a Partridge, it just stands like one!"

a close up of the bird standing on top of a pole in the middle of the river
Reuben slammed open the porthole window and told the rather surprised Heron, "Somebody Wants To Love You!"

Poor ol' Reuben ConeCaid.

I pulled him back into the boat and poured him a stiff drink of some demon rum and and joined him singing some songs between some liquid refreshments... In the late hours of the ninight, we sang a final song before putting the light out and watching the Milky Way in the night sky reflect off the still waters as our eyelids became heavier and heavier...

Window walkin` downtown, feelin` mighty good
And I noticed from the corner how all alone she stood
Underneath the lamplight, an angel in disguise
Lonely little runaway with teardrops in her eyes

Crazy little rag doll, her hair was wild and tossed
And I put my arm around her, `cause I knew that she was lost
She didn`t seem to notice that anyone was near
Till suddenly she turned to me and whispered in my ear

Point me in the direction of Albuquerque
I want to go home, and help me get home
Point me in the direction of Albuquerque
I need to get home, need to get home

Showed me a ticket for a Greyhound bus
Her head was lost in time
She didn`t know who or where she was
And anyone that helps me is a real good friend of mine
Real good friend of mine

Point me in the direction of Albuquerque
And help me get home, help me get home

Walked her to the station and kissed away the tears
Knowing I`d remember through all the coming years
Rag doll on that Greyhound who waved with all her might
Weeped against the window as the bus rolled out of sight

Point me in the direction of Albuquerque
I want to go home, and help me get home
Point me in the direction of Albuquerque
I need to get home, need to get home...

Thanks for the cool Cone Lynn!

Friday, October 8, 2010

Old Accident Pictures

My Great grandfather was killed when struck by a train at the grade crossing.

I do not know exactly when or where this happened but have been left with four old pictures of the accident scene. None of the pictures are marked or labeled in any way. I think the pictures were taken for insurance purposes.

They are not for the squeamish - but thankfully contain no dead bodies in view.

I think it happened in winter (December?) in the late 1920s in New Jersey near Vincentown but have looked high and low for proof of this and not found any (yet).

the ruins of a truck - one side of it was completely sheared off
I've looked at these pictures and wondered - why didn't great grandfather jump out and get away?

another view of the remains of the truck
As much as we think our cars and trucks are safe, even today, a train will "win" in a collision each and every time. Be alert at grade crossings and never assume, "there is never a train here!"

a shot showing the tracks going straight off into the distance with no trees near them - a group of people are huddled together on the lawn of a near a nearby house
Looking up the track - one can see no obstructions to the view. I'm not sure if the gloom is the remnant of a morning fog or my imagination.

the people, close up
I've often wondered who these people were - and if any of them were my grandmother or great aunts and uncles. The picture isn't quite detailed enough for anyone to tell - tantalizing and teasing me.

the view the other way up the track
Looking down the track - one can see no obstructions to the view.

I've failed in every search so far to uncover the where and when it gets to be a rather morbid obsession - I put it away and wait - waiting for the day when, and if, the newspaper account, if there ever was one, of the accident is digitalized and put on the Internet for me to find.

Update: The grade crossing accident that killed my great-grandfather occurred on 8:00 AM, November 9, 1924 in Ewansville, NJ on Pennsylvania Railroad leased and operated tracks of the Camden and Burlington Railroad Company.

In addition to my great-grandfather, one of his uncles was also killed. They were on the way to a self-built cottage with building supplies and within a couple miles of where they were heading when they reached the end of their journey.

My dad recalls seeing many steam locomotives pulling long, heavily loaded troop trains heading to Fort Dix during WWII on the tracks at Ewansville - He spent the summer in a small cottage there with his mother recuperating from a case of the Whooping Cough. Ewansville lies on the Rancocas Creek and is just deep enough for canoeing at this point about 28 miles upstream from the Delaware River.


Thursday, October 7, 2010

The Wild Wild umm, East?

horse drawn wagons crowd a Philadelphia street
My dad's maternal grandfather, William McClurken worked as a delivery driver for a hat manufacturer. While I do not know what exactly he delivered, I know he hitched up his horse-drawn wagon early each day and took it through the streets of Philadelphia in an area known as Kensington, which lies just north of the central historic and market district. Later, he was to drive one of the very first of the "newfangled" gasoline powered trucks.

My Grandfather tells me that the streets "back then" were crowded with horse-drawn wagons and that several times a day, mobs of men would descend on the streets to clean up after the horses and that it was a glorious day when the eye-watering stench was no longer in the air and its cause, no longer underfoot.

Tragically, my great-grandfather was to die in a "newfangled" truck when he stalled one at a railroad crossing and was hit by on-rushing steam locomotive. I have a set of "ghostly" pictures showing the aftermath of the accident. He left behind a young and growing family which included my grandmother, My grandmother's older brother, merely a teenager at the time, out of desperate necessity, went to work as a delivery driver for the same hat manufacturer.

The hat manufacturer? Well, I'm sure you've heard of them. It might come as a surprise to you though...

hand drawn sketch showing the stetson cowboy hat factory plant
The hat manufacturer was started by a young American entrepreneur in the mid 1800’s named John Batterson Stetson. John B. Stetson was one of 12 children and was born in 1830 in Orange, New Jersey. John B. hated the cold weather and chilly rain since made his tuberculosis worse. In 1859, on his doctor’s advice, the 24 year-old John B. moved out West.

By the 1860’s, John B. was panning for gold in Colorado but he found the rugged life made him sicker. One day, he was trapped in the mountains and threatened by sudden rainstorms and howling winds, and his clothing didn't keep him warm and dry. He noticed how beavers’ pelts repelled water in streams, so he trapped a few and created a thick fur felt that he used to make a hat.

His father, who taught John B. how to make felt in the first place, also taught him that a big air pocket between the top of the head and the hat's crown created a cushion of warm air that kept the head warm. Outdoor western living taught him that a hat had to have a wide brim to keep out the elements.

It also taught him that hauling water was vital on the frontier, so he made the inside lining of his hat waterproof. This meant it could double as a water bucket if needed. That’s how Stetson Hats got nicknamed the "10 Gallon" Hat even though they never held more than a half-gallon. Marketing hype... You got to love it.

In 1865, John B. returned to Philadelphia to open his first hat factory. With only $100 in capital, he rented a small room in the center of the city and bought tools and $10 worth of fur to make felt cloth. He was the sole employee. However, within a year, he was adding workers and making hats in quantity.

The hats were a huge hit in the growing American West. Stetson's novel idea of using traveling salesmen in 1869 created the need for more space to manufacture more hats. Another novel idea of his, to move his factory to the then quiet and largely rural Kensington area of the City, gave him the space he needed.

By 1886, Stetson owned the world’s largest hat factory and employed nearly 4,000 workers. John B. transformed hat making from a manual to a mechanized industry. The factory was putting out about 2 million hats a year by the time he died in 1906.


Though he set up his shop in Philadelphia, John B. Stetson decided to focus on serving customers in the American west to avoid competing in the cluttered east coast market. However, Stetson Hats manufactured far more than cowboy hats. The Stetson shop turned out high quality derbys, bowlers, top hats, straw boaters and the latest fashions, always packaged in unique Stetson-trademarked hat boxes.

Thus, the famous 10-gallon cowboy hat was made by the tens of millions in a Philadelphia neighborhood that became home to thousands of industrial buildings, breweries, and impoverished Irish immigrants living in rowhouses and now known as the (decayed remains of) the "Workshop of the World." It was there that the Stetson Company employed over 5,000 people and used 16 million animal pelts during its peak production period in the 1920s.

Twenty-five buildings occupied nine acres (totaling 32 acres of factory floor) and stood a few blocks away from my Grandfather's foundry. It was this close proximity that led my Grandfather to spot my very young Grandmother standing on a street corner waiting for a streetcar (trolley) one day in 1927 while driving to work which led to other things.


The Stetson plant in Philadelphia closed in 1971 following decades of slow decline. Today, nothing remains of the once mighty Stetson complex; the imposing eight-story Stetson clock tower at 4th and Montgomery burned down in 1980 and the remainder of the building was then demolished. The hats, however, are still being made today and sold from Garland, Texas.

an invoice from the stetson hat factory showing prices for four hats purchased by a firm in New Mexico
An invoice for four hats sold to the Moise Bros. Co. in Santa Rosa, New Mexico, dated January, 31 1929. Total bill - $14.00.

http://www.workshopoftheworld.com/

Saturday, October 2, 2010

An old book - from 1879

As I mentioned in by previous entry about doing family tree searches, I've found a neat source - a rather different one from the usual three or four for those of you in the United States (and maybe other countries) -

The most capable one is http://www.ancestry.com/ I'm too cheap to pay for a membership, but you can do searches and find a lot - its just the details will be tantalizingly hidden from you until you pay for a membership.

A free one - that works nearly as well is https://beta.familysearch.org/ Its free to register, and once you do, if an image of the source material (say a 1920 US Census page) is available - you can see it on-line and download it if you wish.

I've found the Social Security "death index" to be useful http://ssdi.rootsweb.ancestry.com/ but only with a few constraints - the person you are searching for has to have been alive to register for Social Security (i.e., alive around or after 1930 or so) and have died. I find this useful in that it provides birth and death dates, as well as where they registered with Social Security (usually where they were born) and where they died.

Just putting your ancestors name, birth year and death year along with the word "obituary" into Google will often bring back their printed obituary!

The unexpectedly useful place to research has been - Google Books. Google has scanned in a bazillion of pages of books of all types and indexed them with their lightening fast search engine. Now, if you go there, you will see "common" and "current" books in print, but don't be fooled!

I was stuck looking at my dad's paternal side of the family tree - I knew my 6-greats-grandfather Joseph Mousley was born in 1803 in Leicester, England, came to Philadelphia and died there in 1883. His wife was Sarah Hose and their children were: Sarah Elizabeth, Charles George, George, Harriett, Joseph Edward, Joseph William, and Clara Louisa.

Joseph the immigrant with wife Sarah Hose, was the son of Joseph and Sarah Mousley. Reaching for the aspirin bottle yet?

What confuses me is the Charles, Georges and Josephs. You see, my 5-greats grandfather Charles George came over from England with his dad Joseph. His brother George did not. George came over later on with one of the brothers named Joseph.

Charles G. had a boy named Charles Jr. that died at 28 years old but had married and worked in the brass foundry (here). His brother George also had a son, named George Jr., what else? :)

So there were a lot of Charlies and Georges running around. I'm still sorting this mess out. But in the meantime, I found this while searching Google Books...

I will try to read this for Tori when my throat isn't sore
The Log of the Ninth Annual Cruise of the Second Presbyterian Fishing Club of Philadelphia, July 3d to 14th 1879 Inclusive on the Schooner "Emma Collins".

I will try to read this for Tori when my throat isn't sore
On July 3d, 1879, precisely at 2 PM today, the club left Clement and Dunbar's wharf above the Shackamaxon Street (Note: This very close to where William Penn landed in Philadelphia)...

I will try to read this for Tori when my throat isn't sore
I couldn't figure out why Google had brought this book up in response to my search - until I noticed the members of the fishing club included brothers Charles and George; my 5-greats-grandfather and many greats-uncle.

The log goes on to detail Charles' bouts of seasickness, how George's rheumatoid arthritis keeping him from walking on a beach, and their catching many fish off the shores of Cape May, New Jersey. My own brother gets seasick at the slop of a wave - maybe it runs in the family? My grandfather speaks of many summers fishing at Cape May - perhaps there is something "out there" that pulls my family to the Delaware River and Bay?

If you'd like, you can read the entire (46 page) book (here) What you really might want to try is popping your grandfather's name in the book search and see what you might find!