Branches on the Tree

DISCLAIMER:  If you're not interested in ancestry or family trees, you will want to skip this post; this won't be interesting to anyone other than my immediate family (and even then it might be a stretch to call it "interesting"), but that's okay.  It fascinates me and that's all that matters!  

Get your own blog.

It's funny how the little things in life can turn into the most unexpected and pleasant surprises.

Case in point:  I was corresponding with my cousin, Debra, on Facebook a couple of weeks ago when she sent me this incredible piece of family history: my grandfather's World War I registration card.

This card was fascinating to me for a couple of reasons.  First, I had never seen my grandfather's handwriting before.  Second, it solved a long-standing personal mystery for me.  I'll get to that in a  minute.

There is no doubt in my mind that my dad never saw this; he was two years old when my grandfather filled it out and it was filed at the Roland precinct at Webster County, Iowa.  But I bet this is something Dad would have marveled at.

The questionnaire asks if there is anyone that is solely dependent on the writer for support?  My grandfather writes, "wife and two small children."  (That would have been my grandmother [Nellie], my dad and my aunt Lois.)

It also asks if there is anything that would exempt the writer from the draft?  My grandfather wrote in precise handwriting, "Rupture and Bad Shoulder."   I have no idea what the rupture was.  A hernia, possibly?

The card is signed June 5, 1917, almost exactly two months after the United States joined War War I.  My grandfather was 30 years old at the time.  And no, he was never conscripted to serve in the Great War.  I'm guessing his rupture and bad shoulder -- or perhaps his wife and two small children -- kept him out of the trenches.

Yes, you can find anything on the web.  Just to clarify, I'm not a sicko who takes pictures of his ancestor's graves.  I actually found this on findagrave.com.  I nearly fell over.

This registration card also solved a mystery I had long wondered about.  My paternal grandfather was always known as "Chris."  Even his headstone at Oak Valley Cemetery (above) says "Chris."  But obviously his real name was "Christian Carl," as evidenced by his signature on the card (this is called primary source material in historical research).

My paternal grandparents, Christian and Nellie (Hoare) Branstner on their wedding day, September 25, 1912, in Somers, Iowa.  Five years later, Chris filled out the registration card (above).

This really aroused my curiosity, so I started my own bit of research.

Using a simple trick of looking up marriage certificates (as the groom's and bride's parents are both listed on the certificates), I was easily able to go back four generations on my dad's side, to the 1850's.  That's as far as I could get for free.  

My mom's side proved a bit more challenging, however.  

It started easily enough:  I was able to find a 1940 census, which lists my maternal grandparents and their young children residing in "Bertha Township, Todd County, Minnesota."  My mom, Phyllis, was 11 years old at the time.  Her sisters, Jo and Sandy had not yet been born.

It also states that my maternal grandfather (Leo Walker) was born in Iowa in 1905.  He was 35 years old at the time of the census.  My grandmother (Wilma) was 32 years old.

1940 census, listing my mom's growing family.

But as I went back, it got tougher.

In a 1920 census, for reasons unknown, my maternal great-grandparents' surname was incorrectly spelled as "Campbelle" (rather than the correct "Campbell").  This made research more difficult, especially since my maternal great-grandmother was listed, variably, as "Margaret" "Margarette" and "Maggie," while  my great-grandfather was interchangeably "William" or "W. B."  

Thankfully,  I recognized my grandmother and her sisters by their names on the censuses (Wilma, Doris, Avis, Lorane), so I knew this Campbelle/Campbell clan was one and the same.

According to the census, they lived in Popple Grove Township, Minnesota, at the time. 

This particular census was very interesting.   It revealed that my great-grandfather's father was born in Ireland and his mother was born in Canada, but, unfortunately, it didn't give me their names or dates of birth.  

I was always told I was part Irish and part French Canadian.  But this St. Patrick's Day I can now say, without a doubt, that my great-great-grandfather, a strapping lad by the name of Campbell, was a full blooded Irishman, born and bred he was.

Drilling a little deeper, I found a 1910 census listing my maternal grandmother's family, this time under the correctly spelled "Campbell," residing in Stowe Prairie Township, Minnesota.  My grandmother was two years old at the time.  Unfortunately, the web site wanted money from me in order to look at the census.  

The elusive "W. B." and Maggie (McGowan...or sometimes "McGowen") Campbell, my maternal great-grandparents.  They were married the day after Christmas, 1891, in Mantorville, Minnesota.  I love this picture, Maggie with her hand gently on her husband's shoulder.  Obviously two very hardworking people.

As you can see, it's not easy to stay on the right track when doing this kind of research (which I find very enjoyable, by the way), and you can quickly be led astray.  You really have to know what you are looking for.  

For instance, my paternal great-grandfather's name was Frank Hoare, who resided in Iowa in the late 1800's; however, I found there were several Frank Hoare's in Iowa at the time.  There was a Frank C. Hoare, a Frank Hoar, a Frank R. Hoare and even a Francis Hoare (who knew?).  

To make matters more confusing, my grandmother (Nellie Hoare) was the daughter of Frank Hoare.  But there was another Frank Hoare in Iowa, alive at the same time as my great-grandfather, who was married to a woman named Nellie.

So one really needed to know what you were looking for in a Hoare...  (and yes, you can go ahead and snicker to yourself, the joke has already been told a thousand times:  My grandpa married a Hoare).

[ed. note: The story behind such an unusual name, by the way, allegedly came from when my ancestors immigrated to America.  They were in a terrible storm on the ship crossing the Atlantic.  The journey was a "horror," which they thought would make a wonderful new "American" surname, but something got lost in translation.]  

At least, that's what my dad used to tell me, but he always admitted it was "just a story."  

Actually, I really hope it's true.  It would be cool tale to tell the Tax Deductions.

My great-grandparents, Frank R. Hoare and Clara (Gray) Hoare.  They were married September 26, 1877, in Polk County, Iowa.