Tim's 60th Birthday!

My brother, Tim, was looking forward to what I might come up with to celebrate his 60th birthday.  Tim was born on December 31, 1951.  He provided my parents with an additional tax deduction.  Tim was the third of seven children. 

Although I have many pictures of Tim, including one of his favorites, I had an unexpected interruption to my schedule with the birth of my grandson, Andrew, two days ago.  So I guess Tim is just going to have to accept this post for his 60th birthday.

2011 was a good year for Tim, depending on your perspective.  He was diagnosed with a malignant tumor in his kidney.  However, with the removal of his kidney, he did not even require chemotherapy.  We're hoping that 2012 will be a year of good health news.

Tim has grown from this freckle-faced young man to a proud husband, father, and grandfather.  This is a picture of Tim and his wife, Dusty, at their son's wedding last May.

 Wishing you and your family all the best in the year to come.

Kath

"Dying or Going on Vacation . . . "

My Dad used to say of his sister, Margaret Ann, that every time he talked to her she was either dying or going on vacation.  I don't know if that was an original phrase with him or one that had been part of a lexicon of expressions that he had heard growing up. 

My brother, Tim, and I were discussing that phrase shortly before I left on my trip for Europe.  I was telling him that if I found out I had cancer (the curse of our family), I would immediately try to assess my odds.  If I felt that it was incurable, I would book a vacation immediately as I have no intention of extending my life with "treatments" that might give me a few more unbearable months.  I want to LIVE the life I've been given.



Tim holding Dad's motor

Not long after my return from Europe, Tim came by the house with the results of his CT scan.  It showed a "solid appearing mass" in his left kidney that "should be considered a malignant lesion until proven otherwise."  He referred to our earlier conversation and asked if I didn't find it ironic that the last time we had spoken, it was about whether or not I would "go on vacation" if I got a cancer diagnosis.

Well, we could definitely agree that we needed more information before we could decide whether to schedule a vacation.  Thankfully, with everyone's prayers, support and concern behind him, Tim got the best possible news.  Additional tests verified that his lungs were clear and the "hot spots" in his back were arthritis -- what Tim calls the "Jones back."  His kidney was removed yesterday and, at this point, his surgeon doesn't think he will even need chemo.  The tumor appeared to be pretty intact.

Coincidentally, Steve Jobs (founder of Apple) died yesterday at the age of 56. You can't log on today without reading quotes from a commencement address he gave at Stanford in 2005.  The predominate theme seems to be one of encouraging each of us to identify what is important to us in our lives and go about achieving our dream -- not that of someone else.  Jobs, who had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, confronts his immortality head on.  It gives him focus.  One of my favorite quotes is this one:  "Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life."

So I'm happy to report that Tim does not have to decide between dying and going on vacation -- at least not yet.  I know all of us have felt the love and support of everyone during this difficult time -- and Dad and Mom -- I certainly felt you.

Tom's Birthday -- My Irish Twin

It's Tom's Birthday! It's that time of the year when for three weeks just this side of spring that we are the same age. My mother used to say that we were "Irish twins" -- a term used for siblings born less than 12 months apart. There was no time in my life that I don't remember Tom being a part of it.

In a comment to a post about another family birthday, Tom's daughter, Melissa, asked, "Was my Dad ever a kid?" That's what happens when you are one of the "big kids." All family pictures show you as older than everyone else. So I tried to take up Melissa's challenge and see if I could find pictures of her Dad as a kid.

Tom

The pictures in the collage at the top of the page include one of my favorites of Tom and I sitting on the steps of our Grandmother's house in Wyoming.  The other picture was "clipped" from a family movie.  Tom is parading in on Easter Sunday with his cousins, Chuck and Bill.  I was also able to crop a picture of Tom as a little boy from another family picture.



Dogs were always a part of our growing up.  T-Bone was one of the dogs of our youth.   Here he is pictured with Tim and Tom.

As an adult, Tom has loved and owned horses. Pictured is Tom on a horse on a family vacation to the apple orchard home of the Crowell's in Carbondale, Illinois. Mary Davis Crowell was one of Mom's best childhood friends.

I don't know where to draw the line.  My goal is to share some pictures that I'm sure most of my siblings have never seen.  So let me add a couple more.

I had forgotten that Tim and Tom played on Kiwanis Little League baseball teams. The picture almost looks like everyone was told to stand at attention.

Let me complete this birthday tribute with one of my favorite pictures. Tom has never been able to escape his role as the big brother -- thankfully for all of us, it's been a role he's always played well. I think I can speak for all of us when I say, "Happy birthday, Tom and we LOVE you."

Kath

On the Hunt for 2269 Columbia Ave. - My Dad's Birthplace

Note:  Double-click on all pictures to enlarge.

Five Jones Siblings

A few days ago, my cousin, Tony Scardina, emailed this picture to me.  Several of us debated the possible location, but leave it to my brother, Tim, to recognize that it was Columbia Ave.  That led me to do some immediate research.

We had always known that my father lived on Columbia Ave. at the time of his birth in 1920.  The family rented space from my grandfather's Uncle Tom and Aunt Ella in a two-family home.  My Dad used to talk about how horses hauled milk trucks past their home in those "old" days.  They were forced to move to Eastern Ave. when the city decided to turn Columbia Ave. into Columbia Parkway -- a main east/west thoroughfare that followed the north bank of the Ohio River.

Instantly the picture took on more meaning, because to my knowledge, it is the only picture that any of us has that shows their initial home.  A little research was in order.  I looked at the 1920 Census where Tom, Ella, Fred, Norine, Edith, Charley and Bob were listed.  My Dad would be born later that year.  The address was 2269 Columbia Ave.  The next trip was to the Main Library to check the Sanborn Fire Insurance Maps for 1904-1930.  I was told by the librarian that as changes to the maps took place over the 26-year period, they would "cover up" the previous version.  Here is the segment from the map. (I highlighted the area that had been their property and labeled it with the 2269 address).  I then drove to Collins Ave. and the current Columbia Parkway to see if the property was accessible.

Next I contacted my partners-in-crime, my brother Tim and his wife, Dusty.  Tim and Dusty kindly accommodated me (aka the "Crip") as we climbed through the honeysuckle, bamboo and other brush that has taken over the hillside.  It was worth it.

We first came across what appeared to be an old wall or part of an old foundation.  Tim found an easier access route by going up to Columbia Parkway from the opposite side and crossing this four-lane, highly-traveled road.  He was able to capture pictures of what would have been the view of the Ohio River from their home and the hillside that was directly across the road.  The hillside has a substantial retaining wall designed to prevent mudslides, which are so common on this parkway.

Records from the Cincinnati Historical Society, state that these homes were purchased when the Parkway began construction in 1929.  Mom's notes say that the home they built down the hill at 2424 Eastern Ave. was purchased just as the Stock Market crashed in 1929.  They paid $5500  for the house and sold it in 1966 for $7500.  The homes on Columbia Ave. did not have indoor plumbing, so their new home must have felt like a palace.

View of the Ohio River from Columbia Ave. location

Dusty and Tim

From this spot we walked down to Gladstone to try to search out the foundation of the home where Pop had grown up.  Three houses in a row had been torn down and we were unsure which one of the three had been the location of the house.

Tim on Collins Ave.

No trip would be complete without taking a picture of the 90 degree turn on Collins Ave. underneath the railroad tracks.  Because the road is so narrow there, Dad would always beep his horn as a warning to oncoming cars.

It's hard to believe that starting with Alexander and Elizabeth Jones, four generations of our Jones family lived within a few blocks of the beautiful Ohio River.  It really is true that a river runs through us.

Note:  I followed up this post with a visit to the Cincinnati Historical Society to see if they had any newspaper articles or old photographs in their files.  You can see what I was able to get from them by clicking on this link.

December 31st -- Tim's Birthday

Ted, Karen and Tim

When my brother Tim was born on this date in 1951, my father was thrilled -- not because he had his third child and second son in less than three years, but because he arrived in time to provide the family with an additional income tax deduction!  Surely, I kid.

I'm guessing the picture above was probably taken about 1958 or 1959.  By then we also had Karen and Ted in the family.  Cowboy outfits must have been the "in" thing that year if the outfits everyone is wearing are any indication.

What I love most about Tim is the way he thinks.  I may be the family historian from the point of view of collecting and organizing facts on pieces of paper, but Tim will remember every little detail -- especially if it has to do with family cars or certain "records" (remember those?) that he played until there was no vinyl remaining.

He is now the proud father of two, grandfather of two and soon-to-be father-in-law again when his son marries in May.  Happy birthday, Tim -- and here is wishing you many more.

Love,
Kath

Jan and Pop - Part II

As stated in the last post, Tim and I went and met with Fred and Marge to get another perspective on our grandparents. We were not disappointed. Jan could best be summed up as a homemaker and a homebody. She loved to cook, sew and manage her family. She was not interested in traveling and always wanted to be home by dark. Fred told us that he and Rosemary were frequently the excuse for why Jan needed to leave early. She always cited the need for them to go to bed as the basis for leaving and getting home before dark. Fred joked that she was still using that excuse when he and Rosemary were teenagers.

Everyone knows that Jan had a clear preference for little girls. Fred said that every Tuesday Jan would get on the East End street car, transfer to Rt. 68 on Delta Ave., and climb the steps from Mt. Lookout to their home on Kinmont. He was bored to tears because the day would generally be spent with Jan sewing clothes for Rosemary -- not exactly an exciting time for Fred. He felt even sorrier for his younger brother, Bob, who was seven years younger. He was too young to be included in the travels that he and Pop would undertake and not a girl -- thus missing out on the attentions of his grandmother.

When I told Fred about the difficulty Mary Elizabeth Wainright confronted raising three children in a pre-Social Security era, we all recognized the similarities between Mary Elizabeth's plight and Edith's plight three generations later. The difference was that Edith and her children could at least get Social Security. As Fred said, "I was a Social Security baby and now I'm on Social Security."

Even though they lived in a house that had been purchased outright, Social Security was not enough. Aunt Edith worked at the Mt. Lookout Five and Dime, later called Ben Franklin's. Fred said that Aunt Edith had a teapot she kept in a hutch and that anytime one of the uncles from either side of his family stopped by, $20 would mysteriously be found in that teapot. Aunt Edith never saw anyone put any money in, but would always find it there. Fred said that money in that teapot was food for them.

We shared other stories, like the time Tim walked with Pop down to the Fisher's, the small neighborhood grocery where for the first time he saw can goods priced at 13 1/2 cents in an effort to make you buy two of everything. Fred told of being sent down the street to the neighborhood saloon as a child to bring back a pale of beer for his Dad and Pop. He better have not spilled any on the way back. (It was a common practice to send kids to get beer on both sides of the river at that time. I've been told the same stories by the Hellmanns in Covington. It amazes me in light of the 21st Century laws that kids were frequently sent to pick up beer and cigarettes for their parents).

Pop was ready to go anywhere at anytime. Fred said he was good friends with the Rhodes, the funeral home directors in Mt. Lookout, and that they would ask him if he wanted to ride along if they got a call to pick up a body in Indiana or other locations. Pop was happy to go.

Fred told us of frequently being called in the middle of the night because Jan would get up to go to the bathroom and fall. Pop could not get her up alone and Fred was called upon to assist. As someone who has experienced the debilitating effects of arthritis and had knee and hip replacements, I cannot imagine the pain and suffering that both of them experienced just trying to get around.

Patty told me the story of the time that she and Tom placed Pop on the back of a motor cycle with a helmet on and took his picture. They did it just to aggravate Aunt Edith (Sis) with whom he was living. At the time, everyone knew that he was nearly blind with macular degeneration. Patty said she was visiting him at one time and she got all teary as she observed him holding that picture to the side and trying to get it within his limited field of vision.

She also said his favorite flavor of ice cream was butter pecan. It must be in the genes because it is my favorite flavor, too.

One final comment -- Fred was well-known for handing out silver dollars. My brother, Tom, is his Godson and frequent recipient. Tim was always jealous. On Fred's 70th birthday, celebrated at General Butler State Park in Kentucky, Fred gave everyone in attendance a silver dollar. Tim took his home and framed it. When we met with Fred and Marge and Tim brought up that story, Fred said he's now into two dollar bills. The picture in the previous post is of Tim holding his two dollar bill. Fred suggested Tim pass it on to his grandson, Will, and when Tim said he was keeping it, Fred gave him a second one to give to Will. It was great fun starting a new tradition.

Jan and Pop - Part I

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I felt like I had to go speak to an "older" cousin to learn what he could recall about Jan and Pop. My brother, Tim and I, went to a Panera near Miamisburg to meet with the "resident historian", Fred Breving and his wife, Marge. We spent two hours trading stories and it wasn't nearly enough time. For one thing, I wanted to share some of the things I had collected with Fred and Marge and that left little time for us to hear Fred's stories and compare our recollections of "the facts."

Fred lost his own father, Fritz, to illness. Fred was only 12 years old at the time. His father worked with lead as a typesetter. I looked up the death certificate and it said that Fritz died of a brain abscess due to bronchiectasis. Fritz was 11 years older than his wife, Edith, who became a widow at the age of 36 with three young children. Fritz (Frederick) Breving was a German who believed in paying cash for everything and bought their home on Kinmont outright.

The first thing I learned about Pop was that he really enjoyed looking at the ladies. Apparently, even when he was losing his vision to macular degeneration, he'd suggest to a granddaughter that she move within his field of vision so he could check her out.

Pop loved to travel. Jan loved to stay at home. Fred said Pop would call him up and tell him they were going on a trip. It was not a request. He remembers being 14 years old when Pop wanted to go visit Harley (his cousin) in Buffalo. Once they got away from the city, Pop would turn the driving over to Fred saying you've had practice pulling cars in and out of your Uncle Clarence's car repair shop -- you can handle it. Pop would sleep while Fred felt like the king of the world.

He said they usually slept in the car, bought a hamburger a day at a truck stop, and otherwise ate junk. Every Sunday they would go for a ride or Pop would buy a Sunday pass for the street car for Fred and they would ride into town and take the incline up to Mt. Adams.

Pop had a sister, Edith Hodges, who relocated from farm to farm never paying the rent. They would work the farm until they were asked to move on. Fred and Pop visited the Hodges on several different homesteads over the years and Pop remained very loyal to his sister. Apparently, Margaret Ann, was told that she was really one of the Hodges because she couldn't stay put.

Fred said that Pop absolutely loved his job and that the "car barn" was Pop's second home. When Fred would come and meet Pop at the car barn, he said that not only the mechanics, but all of the drivers knew and respected Pop. The drivers would want to let Fred on the bus for nothing, but Pop insisted that Fred put his fare in the box.

When Fred was about seven years old, there was a summer when both of his parents were in the hospital. Fred had to live at 2424 Eastern Ave. for the entire summer and the beginning of the school year. Sleeping in that house was quite difficult. There were no interstates and trucks were banned from Columbia Parkway. Not only did you have trucks and traffic along Eastern Ave., but also frequent trains on tracks up the hill from the house in the rear. In addition, there was the sound of boat traffic on the river. Fred was attending school at Christ the King in Mt. Lookout. Every morning Jan would put him on the streetcar and he would have to transfer to travel up Delta Ave. to get to school. That kind of independence for a young child would be unthinkable now.

When Fred got his first car, it must have been quite a clunker. He said it had a cracked engine block and that he, his mother, Rosemary and Bob took the car on a trip to Natural Bridge State Park. It was a '41 Chevrolet and he had to bring a lot of water to keep the engine functioning. He worked at his Uncle's car repair shop and saved the oil they drained from customer's cars to replace the oil in his own. It was a big deal and the only car in the family.

Pop suffered from arthritis and Fred said when he would first get up from a chair, you never knew which way he was going to go. Once he got moving, though, he moved everywhere fast.

When Jan died, Pop sold his house and moved in with the Brevings. Despite Edith's best efforts, Pop would not give up chewing tobacco. Around his favorite chair, Edith had to cover everything in plastic because he didn't always make the spitoon -- made all the more difficult since he had difficulty seeing.

Jan was another story -- one I'll discuss in Part II of this posting.

The Darby Connection

I debated when I started this project as to whether or not I should go straight down the descendant lines (Alexander Jones to Charles Henry Jones, Charles Henry to Charles Fred, Charles Fred to John Thomas, John Thomas to me) or should I also include information on the collateral lines. I went with the latter. I'm a firm believer in not ignoring the contributions of the women that the Jones men married. So let me tell you about Mary Elizabeth Darby who was the mother of Rachel Wainright Jones (Pop's mother).

Mary Elizabeth Darby emigrated with her family from Selby, Yorkshire County, England. She was 13 years old at the time. They sailed from Liverpool and arrived in New York on March 20, 1841.

When I first started researching my family, I was really fascinated by Rachel Wainright and her father Britton -- more about him later. When you have a last name like Jones, researching can be incredibly challenging -- but then there was a unique name like Britton Wainright. I decided to "google" his name on the computer and he immediately came up in a family tree married to Mary Elizabeth Darby who came from England. In addition, there were several other previous generations listed. The family tree had been submitted by Martha Darby Rutter of Oklahoma.

I googled Martha and was able to find a phone number and called her up. What a conversation that was! When I told her who I was she went and got the family history record written by her g-grandfather, Edwin Cyrus Darby. She quoted this paragraph to me:

Father's oldest sister married a man named Wainwright. They had three children, two daughters named Ruth and Rachel and a son Thomas. He was killed in a railroad accident. Ruth married a Dr. Hutchison, had a son and daughter, then he died. The daughter was a nurse in the World War and went to France. Ruth died several years ago. Rachel married Harry Jones. They had two or three children. She died young, then he died and the children were put out in private homes. I lost track of them.

When Martha read this to me the hairs on my arms stood up. I told her that I was part of the family that her g-grandfather had lost track of. He wrote his family history about 1937, the year Alwilda died.

Her next statement was the biggest shock of the conversation. Martha said, "You know where they are buried, right?" I replied that I couldn't possibly know that, because until this conversation I didn't even know they existed. She then proceeded to tell me that many members of the Darby family were buried in the Pleasant Ridge Presbyterian Church Cemetery. Imagine my shock because I've lived in Pleasant Ridge the majority of my life and even went to kindergarten at Pleasant Ridge School, directly across the street from the cemetery. Martha told me she had come to Cincinnati and found the graves and found the church office to be very helpful. Based on her information, I was able to retrieve copies of their cemetery records. Tim and I made a visit and you can see the picture below.

I plugged the information into my Family Tree Maker program and it said that Martha and I are fourth cousins. We are related through Jonathon Darby, father of Mary Elizabeth. Martha and I have stayed in touch. She has pursued her family's genealogy for more than three decades and provided me with a lot of information. I have a copy of the Darby passenger list when they emigrated from England. I know the family was very musical and brought their instruments with them to the states. There are several members of the family who fought in the Civil War. Martha also sent me a picture of Mary Elizabeth, mother of Rachel and my gg-grandmother. She was one of many strong women from whom we are descended.

For more than eight years, Martha and I have emailed back and forth. When I became frustrated with my genealogical "brick walls", Martha was always there to suggest another approach to solving the problem. I attribute to her my love of this hobby and much of what I've learned. We always promise to meet, but so far we haven't done so. Like me, Martha is a retired teacher. We've both had our fair share of health issues -- but you can't keep a Jones/Wainright/Darby woman down.

Living on the Ohio

St. Rose Church
From the Collection of the Public Library of Cincinnati and Hamilton County

Recently I've tried to solve the mystery of exactly where Elizabeth Kinley Jones (widow of Alexander) and her family lived on the banks of the Ohio. Family stories as well as the 1880 Census and numerous Cincinnati City Directories showed the family living on Lumber St. off of Eastern Ave. Lumber St. is right next to St. Rose Church which was built in 1867. It was originally known as St. Rosa and was built to serve the German population of the area.

A few years back I went to the Hamilton Co. Recorder's Office and did a property search. I discovered that the property occupied by St. Rose Church was originally part of the George Torrence Estates. He divided his property among his children, and his daughter Nancy inherited Lots 10 and 11. The Church is on Lot 11.

The deed states that Nancy Torrence sold Lot 11 for $10,000 to Bishop John Purcell. She then donated $1000 back to help fund the construction of the Church. This was in 1867. No mention was made of any part of the property being used for a home.

This had frustrated me for years because Elizabeth Jones, widow of Alexander, is listed in the 1868 City Directory as living in a house, east of Lumber St. The 1880 Census lists Elizabeth and her children as the only residents on Lumber St. besides the three priests serving St. Rose and their housekeeper.

Last Thursday, my husband Bill and I had the pleasure of meeting Bill Graver, volunteer for the Cincinnati Historical Society. He showed us a map with the house located 250' from the southeast corner of the Church on the river bank. The house was a two-story frame house with an iron chimney. It was located on Lot 10 of the Torrence Estate on property that is currently occupied by the Cincinnati Water Works Pumping Station and owned by the City of Cincinnati.

Note:  Map should read Cincinnati Water Works, not Cincinnati Gas Works.

Last Thursday evening my brother Tim, sister-in-law Dusty and I went with tape measure in hand to find the exact location of the "Jones Homestead." The river level in 2009 is much higher than the level in 1880 but you can get a distinct feel for their closeness and love for the Ohio.

Tim marking the spot where the house was located.

Riverbank as it looks now with a wall surrounding the Water Works plant to prevent flooding.

View from St. Rose Parking Lot.