#52Ancestors - Out of Place

            I have written about my husband’s great-great grandparents before.  Marcel and Julia (Talbot) Balthazor have always intrigued me and I have done more work on that family than any others.  Partly because they interest me so much, partly because they were close and the research is easy for me but mostly because of the mystery of their missing children.  When I first started researching, other researchers knew that Julia had given birth to 14 children, but they only had the information on the six children that stayed local and lived to adulthood.  I spent years looking and finally came up with the names of all fourteen and their baptisms.  One of the missing was Georgianna, who married Frederick Dandurand and moved to Marshall, Minnesota with her husband.  Georgie died in her thirties after childbirth. 

            Family lore said that Marcel and Julia were the parents of twins that were accidentally drug to death by horses at their homestead near Clifton, Kansas.  I never could find any evidence locally of this and there were no twins born to them. 

Mary Balthazor, taken in Marshall, MN
in 1897

            After years and years of a dead end, I stumbled on to a clue.  I went to a Talbot family reunion.  Julia was a Talbot and her siblings lived in the Greenleaf area.  Their descendants all gathered once a year to have a wonderful potluck, share stories and talk about ancestry.   One of the family members brought a box of unidentified photos and laid them out on a table, hoping someone could put names with the faces.  I went through the photos and was able to name a few.  But one photo took me by surprise.  It was Julia and Marcel’s daughter Mary, a beautiful full portrait.  It was a cabinet card and I was taken by surprise when I looked at the studio.  This photo had been taken in Marshall, Minnesota.  Someone had written “Mary” and “1897” on the back.   Had Mary gone to visit her older sister? 

            That’s all I could find for a while.   And then came Newspapers.com.  I decided to search for Marcel and Julia in Minnesota.  Maybe the family had taken a trip to see Georgianna and her family.   That was when I hit pay dirt. 

St. Paul, MN Globe
Wed. 15 July 1896

            Apparently Marcel and Julia and their seven youngest moved to Marshall for a year or so.  They lived very near Georgianna and her family.  On July 13th 1896, their two littlest girls, Anna, who had just turned 6 and four-year-old Celia were playing with their niece, Georgianna’s oldest daughter Rosanna, who’s fifth birthday was only five days away were playing.  One of the Balthazor boys was working for a neighbor, herding his cattle.  The article did not mention the boy by name, but it said he was around eleven.  Scott’s great grandfather, Philip, had just turned twelve.    Philip and the girls played a game where he tied a picket rope around each of their waists and hooked the ropes to the saddle of a tame pony.  Philip would mount the pony and ride slowly and the girls walked along behind.   This time, something went horribly wrong.  Before Philip could mount the pony, something scared it and it took off at a run.  The girls were dragged along behind the fleeing horse.  Philip tried to catch the pony but was unable to.  It ran over rough ground until it got the neighbor’s home and he caught the pony.  He and his wife untied the girls.  They sent for a doctor.  Anna, the oldest of the three was slightly injured.  The two little ones didn’t fare so well.  Their arms and legs were broken and their skulls crushed.  One of the girls died before the doctor arrived, the other shortly after.  Rosanna and Celia are buried together in the Catholic Cemetery at Marshall. 

            In the next year, Marcel and Julia packed up their family and moved back to their homestead in Kansas.  Through the years, the story of the deaths of the girls was told and word of mouth changed the story to twins dying at the farm.  The short time the family lived in Minnesota was forgotten.  It took years of research and subtle little hints to find any traces of it at all.  Now the family knows the true story and Rosanna and Celia will not be forgotten again.

           

#52Ancestors - In My DNA

                I have a few good traits and some bad as well, and each one can be traced back through my family tree to my ancestors.   Each nationality is known for certain personality traits.

                Two years ago, I finally sent in my DNA sample for testing.  I haven’t spent a lot of time with it, I haven’t had the time.  But, according to my DNA report 81% of my ancestors come from Western Europe – primarily England and Germany.  12% is Scottish and Irish and 7% is Norwegian.

                From my German ancestors, I received the gift (curse?) of punctuality.  I am one of those people who HAS to be early for everything.  I cannot tolerate being late, and those who are perpetually late grate on my nerves.   My younger son still does not understand it and tries to stall so we arrive just on time or (GASP!) LATE!!!   I am not sure who is going to win this battle of wills, but I am afraid there might be a fatality! 

                My German line is also responsible for my love of tradition.  There are many family traditions that I continue, even though no one else seems too interested anymore.  At Christmas, each stocking must have an apple and an orange, which is tradition passed down from my mother’s parents and their ancestors.  Each stocking also contains flavored syrup for milk, passed down through my husband’s family.  Traditions are important to me, helping me keep the memory of those ancestors alive. 

                I inherited my craftiness from the Germans in my line.  Many famous inventions were created by German natives.  There is not much I enjoy more than sitting down and getting crafty, be it with a glue gun, scrapbook, counted cross stitch, paint and wood or making decoupage tiles.  Let me create!

                From those who immigrated to the US from my British progenitors, I inherited one good trait and a couple of my more questionable ones.  I am a caring person, always wanting to help or take care of people and things. They also passed down to me an extreme stubborn streak and the sarcasm and wit that I passed on to my two sons. 

                Even though Scotland and Ireland only represent a total of 12% of my ancestry, they passed down to me more traits than the British and Germans.  My roots in Scotland run very deep, clear back to Robert the Bruce.  Through this line I inherited superstition, sentiment and spirituality.  Sentiment and spirituality help me be a better genealogist.  Sometimes I swear I can feel my ancestors guiding my way and aiding me in finding them.  I get sentimental, wanting to find the whole story, not just stop with their names and dates.  I have the Scottish appreciation of the arts – music, drama, photography.  My Scottish ancestors were social and friendly when they got to know people, but introverted before that.   One of the more questionable traits they gave me was a great enjoyment of food, and it shows around my waistline!

                From Ireland I got an obsession with the weather.  I may not watch the news every day, but I do make sure I catch the weather daily.  I have three weather apps on my phone.  I’ve taken storm spotter classes and in college I took a class in meteorology.  I also received an overprotective streak.  I baby the boys (one is 30, the other is 14).  I’m not sure how many times my husband has said “you need to cut the cord!”  I’m doing better with my older son, but the younger one is still my cub and mama bear is ever watchful.  And perhaps my worst personality trait came from Ireland: procrastination.  I put everything off.  If I need to have a program done, I finish it the day before it is due.  I’m not as bad as I used to be, but I still have a long way to go.

             

An eagle I photographed on one of our morning rides.

   My as-yet-unknown Norwegian ancestors gave me a pretty wonderful trait, too.  I love nature.  I enjoy sitting on a pond bank, watching the grasses wave in the wind and the water lap the shore.  We take rides each weekend, looking for wildlife and beautiful sunrises to photograph.    

                My DNA makes me who I am and those who came before me all contributed.  I appreciate them and work to find each one and preserve their stories for those who will come later.  Alexander McQueen stated, “It’s good to know where you come from.  It makes you what you are today.  It’s DNA.  It’s in the blood.”

                In my blood runs the blood of thousands.  Brave women who raised their children on new frontiers.  Hard working men who took care of those women and children.  Soldiers and sailors. Doctors and farmers.  Mothers and milliners.  Their blood, their personality traits course through my veins, making me the person I am.  Without them, I would not be here. 

#52Ancestors - Brick Wall - Tutes Was a Builder

Susan Jane (Briggs) Thomas with her four
youngest children.  Frank (in back), twins
Charles (L) and Tutes (R) and baby
Winston Cleveland, who would pass away
soon after this photo.

          Since I already wrote about my biggest brick wall ancestor, I decided to take a different route.  I want to write this week about my great-grandfather who BUILT brick walls.

           William Oscar Thomas was born on the 7^th of February 1886 at the family home near Fanning, Kansas.  He was a twin, his brother was named Charles Owen.  The twins were the tenth and eleventh children of twelve children born to Winston and Susan Jane (Briggs) Thomas.  Four of their older siblings had died as infants.  Luckily, both of the twins survived. 

                      

         While just an infant, William earned the nickname that would follow him all his life.  Some never knew his true name, they only knew him by his nickname.  As he slept in his cradle, one of his uncles looked down at him and said, “He looks just like my old hound dog Tutes.”  And so it was.  William Oscar Thomas became Tutes Thomas.

Tutes and Ada's Wedding Photo

                Tutes attended country schools until eighth grade, which was quite common for the time.  In 1901, father Winston passed away.  Tutes, Charles and older brother Frank took over running the family farm and helping their mother. 

                On the 25^th of August in 1907, Tutes married Ada Veretta Whetstine.  Ada was the youngest daughter of Anson and Sarah (Graves) Whetstine.  On March 29, 1908 they welcomed their first son (my grandfather), Harley Algernon Taft Thomas.  Four years later their second and last child was born, Oscar Anson Thomas, born 14 March 1912. 

                On the 1910 census, Tutes gave his occupation as a farmer.  When he registered for the World War I draft, his occupation was carpenter.  This was the occupation he would have the rest of his life.  Tutes was a builder. 

                Tutes, Ada and the boys moved to Horton, Kansas after the dam on Mission Lake broke in June of 1925.  Their first home was a rental at 1445 1^st Avenue West, where they were still living in 1930.  They paid $12.50 a month rent.

The Civic Center at the Fair Grounds in Horton

         Tutes’ first job in Horton was reconstruction of the dam and spillway at Mission Lake.  He also did work for the WPA, constructing the big barn at the fair ground as a part of that.  He built bridges in the area in between houses and buildings.  He built three homes in Horton, the Indian Agency building and the fair barn (Civic Center).  His final project was construction of the Upper Wolf Lutheran  Church near Robinson, Kansas.

The Indian Agency building on 1st Avenue East in Horton

                  The family moved to 1245 5^th Avenue West in Horton in the 1930's.  The property came with a large barn, where Tutes had a work bench.   Tutes loved working with his hands.  He carved and created all kinds of clever things.  He made clocks, guns, crossbows, buckets, dust pans and more.  He carved on stone as well, creating tombstones for his parents, Ada’s parents and his grandson who died shortly after birth.  He had also created an incubator for little Gerry before he passed away.   He spent so much time in the barn, either creating or just sitting in the doorway, that the barn swallows became his friends.  He could sit there for hours and the swallows barely knew he was there.  He also loved the wild yellow roses that perfumed the air around the house each summer.

Tutes Thomas on one of his job sites
(Standing in doorway)

The Landau home in Horton, designed and built by Tutes Thomas

Upper Wolfe Lutheran Church near Robinson, KS

                Tutes had been a heavy smoker all of his life and developed emphysema.  He passed away on the 18^th of June in 1963 at Horton Hospital.  I never got to meet Grandpa Tutes and so wish that I had.  I have heard so many wonderful stories about him from so many different people.  Even though I never knew him, the legacy he left is still in Horton and Robinson and I drive by the buildings he built each time I visit my hometown.  I also leave yellow roses at his grave each Memorial Day.