Showing posts with label genealogy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label genealogy. Show all posts

04 April 2012

The Anticipation of Anniversaries & Reveals

From the Williams Family Collection
This week has been full of big reveals and anniversary celebrations. April marks a big month for genealogists and amateur historians alike. The month dawned with the ever anticipated access to the 1940s US Federal Census. I immediately jumped onto Ancestry.com in hope that this was not an April Fools joke and I sighed in relief when it wasn't. I have not had much time to search through the records, but I hope I can soon reveal more information about my family. I am especially excited to see the census record for my great grandpa who passed away nearly a year ago now. You can read the eulogy I wrote here.

I found this and thought this was interesting; a comparison of the census in 1940 and the census in 2012.

The U.S. Census: Then & Now
 
In other news is the 100 year anniversary of the sinking of the RMS Titanic. I will follow up with another blog post closer to the anniversary of the sinking, explaining how the Titanic is in more than just two pieces—as is the popular belief. But since we are drawing near to the anniversary of the maiden voyage (we all know the story), I thought it would be fun to show the popular James Cameron trailer. All of us who were at least pre-teens and teens during the 1997 release, who be flocking movie theaters everywhere to see the film back on the big screen in 3D.


Stay tuned to blog posts on: Titanic myths & legends, 1912 news reports, and Titanic & what we know today.

21 April 2011

Eulogy of the Last Self-Made American (in the most authentic sense of the term).


I can only live up to the achievement my great grandfather, Melvin Williams, accomplished in his lifetime of 89 years. There is not a man more deserving of a lifetime achievement award than he, for he lived through the most exciting times of the 20th century. A time when the world was transforming—a time of reform, conflict, adventure, and progress—a time when the self-made man was rare and far between, and pastoral life was only found in Alvan Fisher paintings.

However, Melvin Lee Williams, was not only an entrepreneur, but he was a man who jumped at any opportunity and adventure to benefit himself, those he loved, and his country. His wit and charisma helped him achieve anything he put his mind too. Often people see stubbornness as a flaw, but Grandpa used it to accomplish things that most people can only dream to accomplish in a lifetime.


The first years of his life his family lived in an oil town in Texas, where his father bought and sold oil claims. It is to be assumed that his father, Charles Williams, did not make very much money doing this, because they often lived in tents, cabins, or small chipped-paint houses. He and his brother even would ride bareback to the schoolhouse.


When he was a teenager, he was sent to live with his grandparents, Moore and Oda Williams, on the old Williams homestead in Cleveland, Oklahoma. The 160 acre homestead was a full-working farm with a vineyard, orchards, berry field, vegetable plots, beehives, a team of horses, milk cows, chickens, and pigs.


Even though Oklahoma was a dry state, Moore Williams harvested much of his grapes and blackberries, to make wine and blackberry brandy. Every Friday and Saturday night, Moore would sit on the porch with the jars beside him and sell them to any cars that stopped. This was a major source of income for the Williams homestead. During Sunday “Socials,” the kids weren’t allowed in the yard, as neighbors and friends gathered to play card games and with a jug of wine in the center. The sheriff was a regular during these occasions. During one occasion they knew a raid was coming and spent two or three days hauling all the jars and jugs down in the woods below the barn. When the raid arrived, several men, including the Sheriff, arrested Moore and found one remaining barrel in the smokehouse. They were going to crack the head with an axe when one man stopped him, saying “Don’t ruin Moore’s good barrel!” They took him in, but had him back by milking time.


He spent his time trapping possums, skunks, and raccoons to sell the skins in town one season in a “get rich scheme.” Grandpa and his best friend, Jack, eventually bought a hunting dog, Lady, in order to better track and catch possums and coons. According to Grandpa, she was The World’s Best Hunting Dog. Whether with his friends, his grandfather, dad, or brothers, Grandpa Mel loved to hunt and fish.


At the age of 16, Grandpa Mel and his buddy Robert took on an adventure akin to Huckleberry Finn. They scrounged up a flat-bottom river boat, put up a tent in the middle, and decided to float down the Arkansas River to the Mississippi. They spent about two weeks afloat, only reaching Little Rock, Arkansas upon Robert getting sick.


After high school he attended Oklahoma A & M, studying taxonomy, agriculture, and civil engineering. While in school is worked at burger joints flipping burgers. His roommate was a campus bootlegger, who often borrowed Grandpa’s car to make runs, always bringing it back with a full tank of gas. He taught grandpa to run and sell liquor during football games and victory parties. He never did it again, after there was a raid at one after party located at an Oklahoma City dancehall.


He married Vonda Mae Blackburn in 1941. A little over a year later, Grandpa Mel and his father Charles, were contracted by U.S. Engineering Corps. as a survey crew on the Alaskan Highway. He and many other contracted surveyors and engineers replaced the U.S. Engineering Corps. during its construction.


Grandpa was drafted in to the army during the fall of 1943. By May they were shipped Algeria and trained to load and unload from landing ships. By June 4th, they were told to write to their families, and June 6th, Grandpa Mel and thousands of others landed on the beach of Normandy. Grandpa watched, although painfully remembered, as comrades fell. Grandpa made it over the embankments and dug in to hold out the assault.


By September he was made a corporal and he and his men were sent deeper into France, heading toward Germany. In Saarlautern, Grandpa spent the winter, mainly participating in city combat. I can only imagine after watching many World War II movies and modern war movies. Fighting in the confines of a city makes for brutal war.


Toward the end of the war, Grandpa, now a sergeant, participated in the invasion and takeover of Ruhr. They trapped several hundred German troops and bombarded the city.


He came home the day before Christmas Eve in 1945. When Grandma Vonda answered the door, she said “I will put on some coffee.”


After the war he received several engineering jobs in manufacturing businesses, including garment factory like Levi. He made a hobby of building guns and crafting wood gun cabinets. He continued his passion of fishing, hunting and camping.


Grandma Vonda died in 1962; however, soon after Grandpa remarried Mary Gomez. He and Grandma Mary traveled a lot together, as she became his accountant for Mel William Associates. Business prospered.


He had a partner in Nicaragua, which he visited from time to time. In 1972, Nicaragua was devastated with a large earthquake, devastating Managua. With the devastated city came the political unrest and Grandpa watched from his office as the Nicaraguan Revolution commenced. Eventually the conflict stopped all production and his partner took off with the shipment. Grandpa set up a stakeout at the airport, informing his company (stationed in Boston, Massachusetts) about the shipment, where it was soon seized in Miami. His partner abandoned the factories, which left Grandpa no other choice but to get out of Nicaragua on the soonest flight, as revolutionaries began attacks on the airport.


Grandpa continued his work in El Paso until his retirement. He followed his passions, continuing fishing and hunting until he could no longer. On my last visit Grandpa beat us all at Mexican Train, told us stories, shared family pictures, let me dig my nose in all his history books, made us laugh with his sharp wit, introduced me to the Apache tonic (which was Great Grandma Oda’s signature drink), and made a delicious guinea hen. I will never forget our many emails back and forth, discussing family ancestry, history, and our lives.


Grandpa, you will be missed, but thank you for sharing all these memories with us. I will continue to share and discover our family history so it is not forgotten. I hope I can one day beat my children and grandchildren and great grandchildren at Mexican Train, tell them funny stories, fill their head with history, and introduce them to the “cancer curing” Apache tonic.








05 March 2010

Ancestrial Fame: "Who Do You Think You Are?"

Tonight a new series, "Who Do You Think You Are?" aired on NBC. The show follows a celebrity on their ancestral journey back into American history. The series premiered with Sarah Jessica Parker who followed her maternal great great great great, etc. grandfather to the California Gold Rush, and an ancestral grandmother in her involvement in the witch trial hysteria of the 17th century in New England. The show will follow several other celebrities in their search for their historical roots.

The series has sprung up in many countries around the world, beginning in England in 2004. They are currently in their eighth season. Why does BBC have to think of everything though?

This question shouldn't be too hard to answer. If you think of what is being shown on the History Channel these days, you shouldn't be surprised. Reality TV much? Exactly! I have been boycotting the History Channel since December when I watched the documentary "People's History." Although based off of a compelling and controversial book on American people and social revolutions in our history, the documentary was narrated primarily by celebrities and well-known actors. Our contemporary society is so obsessed with fame and celebrity, that we can't be interested in history without listening to one of them. Whatever happened to ordinary people in history? "Who Do You Think You Are?" sounds more like an accusation now than an expository question.

My favorite historical series at the current moment is "History Detectives" on PBS. They are dealing with real people who own pieces of history and employ "history detectives" to find the answers to their little mysteries. Why can't we just be interested in ordinary people like you and I? I think you can easily answer that for yourself.

The positive point to this show that it will get more people interested in genealogy and history. History is not just what we learn in Social Studies class or in our history text books. Far from it! History is our own past. Our ancestors. Our own blood. It is then that history becomes real to us. These are real people, just as real as myself sitting here typing this blog entry. Who breathed, worked, toiled, loved, mourned, and died, just like you and I. My own ancestral history has made this more real to me, and that is why I journal and document my own life for my own children and their children's children, so they can carry on the legacy that is my blood and my country and my history, and it will become theirs.

I will sign off with one of my own "ordinary" ancestor's story's. My great great great great great, etc. maternal grandfather, Ambrose Williams came to America in the mid-1700s from Wales. Him and his first wife bore many sons, several of which were old enough to fight in the American Revolution. Our history books mark the American Revolution from 1774-1783; however, the war began way before 1774. Social unrest spread like a plague through the American colonies just as Ambrose Williams settled his family in North Carolina. The Williams family were patriots, Whigs they were called. One son, John Williams, had a wife and two small children by the outbreak of the war. It was in 1775 that John went out from his home to search for the horses that had gone astray. By late morning, early afternoon, Mrs. Williams went to the creek for water. As she approached the creek, she saw a dark figure hanging from a tree. Her heart was in her throat and she could feel the salt of her tears sting her eyes, but her feet continued moving toward the creek and the figure. I can only imagine how she felt, what she screamed, and what she immediately thought when she recognized the lynched body of her husband hanged by the bridle of one of his missing horses. They are stories like these that make history real for me, because of an "ordinary" ancestor and his story.
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