Monthly Archives: October 2013

A Scary Cemetery Story

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It was a blustery Halloween, and I was reading a scary news article from the 9 July 1874 (McArthur, Ohio) Vinton Register. (Isn’t that how every genealogist spends Halloween?) It was a tale of murder and intrigue…

Elias Irvin had been drinking for several days. His nephew George came up to his fence and accused him of stoning his house and cursing his wife. Their words became more heated until finally, the two came to blows. Elias swung a rake at George. George threw whatever he could. Elias turned for the house; George threw something that hit Elias on the back.

A witness said there was blood only on Elias’s cheek. But by 10:00 the next morning, he was dead.

Elias was buried in the Zion cemetery in Clinton Township, Vinton County. Nobody thought to examine the body until after the burial. The body was dug up. There were cuts on his arms and blood had run from his left temple.

Dr. D.V. Rannells examined the body and found no brain injury, though his lungs were congested. “I do not think the wounds alone could have caused the death of the party,” he told the jury.

The only other witness who testified was Joseph Johnson, who saw the fight between George and Elias.

After a short deliberation, the jury returned with its verdict:

“The deceased came to his death by causes unknown to us.”

George Irvin was a free man.

(McArthur, Ohio) Vinton Record, 9 July 1874, p. 3. Downloaded from Newspapers.com.

(McArthur, Ohio) Vinton Record, 9 July 1874, p. 3. Downloaded from Newspapers.com.

But for a genealogist, the scary part of this story wasn’t the death of Elias Irvin. It was the description of Zion cemetery, where Elias was buried (and presumably re-buried after his autopsy):

Zion graveyard is situated on a high hill hear Wm. Crow’s, in Clinton township, with beautiful surroundings and commanding a magnificent view of the adjacent country. The graveyard itself was in a shameful condition of dilapidation and neglect. It is unenclosed, grown up with underbrush, and heaped up with rails which had formerly been pens enclosing graves. It would be hard to imagine a more dilapidated place for christian burial.

If that doesn’t send shivers down your spine, I don’t know what will…

Space Heaters and Snow Boots

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My furnace hasn’t worked in over a week. (Before you feel too sorry for me, let me add that I’ve been gone most of that time and it hasn’t been that cold in central Ohio.) It was getting pretty chilly in the house when my parents brought over something from my childhood — the electric space heater.

The space heater we used while I was growing up. I'm surprised this antique still works.

The space heater we used while I was growing up. I’m surprised this antique still works.

Firing up that space heater and seeing its toaster-like elements turn orange took me back to my grade-school years. The family room in the house where I grew up was always cold in the winter; the sliding glass door, which we used as our main entry, probably didn’t help. There were many drawings made in the condensation that formed on it daily. I often wanted to sit on the floor and eat my breakfast in front of the space heater, but was never successful in convincing Mom that the floor was a proper place to eat one’s breakfast.

What I remember most about that heater wasn’t how warm it made me feel while eating my oatmeal. It was how it kept me warm on the way to school.

The walk to school was only three blocks, but it felt like miles when there was snow on the ground. What was worse was when the snow was melting and the sidewalks were covered in a thick layer of icy slush. On those snowy, slushy mornings, I would lay down my boots in front of the heater and point the tops toward those glowing orange wires. If I remembered to do that before I started breakfast, my feet would stay warm most of the way to school.

Funny how even a small appliance can bring back memories. What unexpected things have brought back a childhood memory for you?

The Kidneys and Their Stones

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Catharine and Jacob Kidney tombstones

Catharine and Jacob Kidney stones, Green Lawn Cemetery, Columbus. Photo by Amy Johnson Crow, 12 Oct 2013.

It was probably impolite of me, but when I saw these tombstones at Green Lawn Cemetery in Columbus, I giggled. (Quietly, of course. I was in a cemetery, after all.) When I saw them, it occurred to me what these are: the Kidney stones. :-)

You might have already seen this on the NSTS Facebook page, where I shared it for a Saturday evening chuckle. (Apologies to any Kidney descendants.) But I couldn’t let Jacob and Catharine just stay names on their tombstones.

Jacob and Catharine were born in New Jersey. They were in Franklin County, Ohio, living the 1st ward of Columbus by 1840. They were still there in 1850. Jacob listed his occupation as “carpenter,” though he was 82 years old. Their census entry has an usual note: “Married 60 years.”

Jacob Kidney household, 1850 U.S. census, Columbus, Franklin County, Ohio, p. 393B.

Jacob Kidney household, 1850 U.S. census, Columbus, Franklin County, Ohio, p. 393B.

There is some ambiguity about where Jacob was originally buried. Unlike Catharine, there is no burial record for Jacob at Green Lawn Cemetery. Donald Schlagel, noted Columbus historian, theorizes that many of those without burial cards at Green Lawn were originally buried in one of the Columbus city cemeteries and then reinterred at Green Lawn when the city cemeteries were closed. (It’s also possible that if Jacob was originally interred at one of the city cemeteries, he was never actually reinterred…  I’ll let you do the math on that one.)

Catharine’s father’s name was Henry Jacob, per her cemetery record.

Jacob’s will, written in 1843 and probated in 1854, lists the following:

  • wife Catherine
  • son John
  • daughter Ann Maria’s heirs
  • daughter Rachel, wife of Joseph Styler
  • daughter Sarah, wife of Asher Jacobs
  • daughter Esther, wife of Andrew Little
  • son Henry

I don’t know what other stories Jacob and Catharine have. But I do know that they gave me a story about the time I found “Kidney stones” in the cemetery.

References:

  • “Abstracts of Wills, Franklin County, Ohio” in Ohio Source Records From the Ohio Genealogical Society Quarterly. Baltimore: Clearfield, 2007. (Found on Google Books.)
  • Catherine Kidney burial record. Green Lawn Cemetery Burials, Columbus, Ohio, 1848 to 1981. Letter K.
  • Jacob Kidney household. 1840 U.S. census. 1st ward, Columbus, Franklin County, Ohio. Page 1.
  • Jacob Kidney household. 1850 U.S. census. 1st ward, Columbus, Franklin County, Ohio. Page 353B.
  • Schlegel, Donald M. The City of Columbus Cemeteries. Columbus: Columbus History Service, 1985. (Found on GenealogyBug.net.) [Jacob Kidney’s entry is on page 129.]

A Young Soldier’s Death, But Not From a Bullet

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Anthony Joseph Caito

Anthony Joseph Caito, photoceramic on his tombstone, Mount Calvary Cemetery, Columbus.

Anthony Joseph Caito was the son of Gatano/Gaemtino and Mary Caito. He enlisted to fight in World War I in July 1918. By October of that year, he was dead. He was just 23 years old.

Anthony (or Tony, as he was called in the 1900 and 1910 census) reported for basic training at Camp Sherman in Chillicothe, Ohio. Camp Sherman opened in September 1918 in response to the rapidly-growing need to train Army recruits. The camp was the third-largest in the country and had more than 1,300 buildings, including barracks, a hospital, and a library. The Ohio Historical Society refers to it as “a small city.” Indeed, Camp Sherman nearly quadrupled the population of Chillicothe.

Tony arrived in Camp Sherman in the summer of 1918. Something else arrived at camp shortly after that: the Spanish influenza. The flu swept through the camp. Eventually, Camp Sherman was quarantined to prevent the illness from spreading further into Chillicothe.

Almost 1,200 men in Camp Sherman died from the flu. Anthony Joseph Caito was one them. He died 11 October 1918 and was laid to rest in Mount Calvary Cemetery in Columbus.

Anthony Caito tombstone, Mount Calvary Cemetery, Columbus. Photo by Amy Crow.

Anthony Caito tombstone, Mount Calvary Cemetery, Columbus. Photo by Amy Crow.

References:

  • Caito, Anthony death certificate, #39698 (1918), viewed on FamilySearch.org.
  • Caito, Anthony Joseph, tombstone, Mount Calvary Cemetery, Columbus, Ohio. Photos by Amy Johnson Crow.
  • The Official Roster of Ohio Soldiers, Sailors, and Marines in the World War, 1917-18. Columbus, OH, USA: The F.J. Heer Printing Co., 1926, p. 2433. Viewed digital image on Ancestry.com, “Ohio Soldiers in WWI, 1917-1918.”
  • Ohio Historical Society, “Camp Sherman,” OhioHistoryCentral.org.
  • Ohio Historical Society, “Marker #7-71 Camp Sherman,” RemarkableOhio.org.

Two Worthless Brothers

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John R. Young and Douglass H. Young were born and raised in Washington County, Ohio and they were worthless. Now, before you think that I’m being harsh, hear me out.

John and Douglass were two of the sons of John and Jane (Douglass) Young (my 3rd-great-grandparents). In 1870, John, Jane, and 8 of their 12 children (yes, 12) were living together in Fearing Township, Washington County. Included in the household were John, Douglass, and their wives and children.

John Young 1870 census

John Young household, 1870 U.S. Census, Fearing Township, Washington County, Ohio, p. 130.

See that note on the right-hand side of the page? That’s a note added by Joseph Palmer, the enumerator in Fearing Township, and it brackets John R., Douglas H. and their families:

Note on Young 1870 census“Not worth anything nor doing anything. — Living with Parents, J. Young”

Yes, the enumerator called out John and Douglass for being worthless and not doing anything. (I’d like to point out that my ancestor, their brother Thomas, was not included in that note. This is one time I don’t mind my ancestor not being mentioned!)

Who said genealogy wasn’t interesting?

An Unexpected Tombstone for Matt Chopps

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One of the neat things about wandering around in cemeteries is that you never know what you might find. That was certainly true with this tombstone I found near the children’s section of Mount Calvary Cemetery in Columbus. I saw the back of the stone first. The motif was so sweet, I was sure that it was for a child.

Matt Chopps tombstone, Mount Calvary Cemetery, Columbus, Ohio

Back of Matt Chopps tombstone, Mount Calvary Cemetery, Columbus, Ohio. Photo by Amy Crow, November 2010.

It is always sad to find a child’s grave. But the back of this tombstone was so unusual that I had to know more about whose grave it marked. When I walked to the front of the tombstone, I was surprised to find that it wasn’t for a child, but for a 53-year-old man named Matt Chopps.

Front of Matt Chopps tombstone, Mount Calvary Cemetery, Columbus, Ohio. Photo by Amy Crow, November 2010.

Front of Matt Chopps tombstone, Mount Calvary Cemetery, Columbus, Ohio. Photo by Amy Crow, November 2010.

Maybe the tombstone was wrong. Maybe one of the dates was incorrect. Why was there such a sweet, childlike design on the back of the tombstone for an adult? I found his death certificate and, sure enough, the tombstone was right. Matt Chopps was born 17 January 1879 in Austria and died in Columbus on 26 June 1932 of tuberculosis. He was the son of John and Katherine (Werchel) Chopps and the husband of Matilda. He was a laborer at Columbus Packing Company.

If I had to picture the tombstone of a 53-year-old meat packer who died in the early 1930s, this wouldn’t be it. Was the design on the back a reflection of a kind personality? Was it just a design that the family liked? We may never know the story behind why that design is there, but this unexpected tombstone turned out to bring an unexpected smile in the cemetery.

Reference: Matt Chopps death certificate, Columbus, Franklin County, Ohio, certificate 36308 (1932), viewed on FamilySearch.org.

I Started Young

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People sometimes ask me how long I’ve been doing genealogy. I often reply with “I’ve always been interested.” It’s true — I’ve had an interest in my family’s history for about as long as I can remember. I was so lucky to have been able to spend time with my grandma Johnson. She was the Keeper of Stories and Labeler of Family Photographs. She even wrote her memoirs. (Yes, my Grandma wrote her life story.) So I come by this “genealogy thing” pretty honestly.

We also used to take drives. Lots of drives. It wouldn’t be unusual for us to end up at some family-related location, like a cemetery. (Ever have a tailgate picnic in a cemetery? I have…. and I thought it was normal!)

But I didn’t realize quite how young I started in genealogy until I found this photo.

At Locust Grove Cemetery, Lawrence County, Ohio

At Locust Grove Cemetery, Lawrence County, Ohio

This was taken at Locust Grove Cemetery in Lawrence County, Ohio, where Grandpa’s parents (Linton and Margaret (Kingery) Johnson) and grandparents (Eber and Ann (Stephens) Johnson) are buried. This was probably Memorial Day weekend.

That’s my grandma Adah (Young) Johnson in the blue dress, my mom in the white dress, my grandpa Stanley Johnson… and 4-year-old me.

I started young with my genealogy.