Tag: History

On the Birth of Francis George Gilfeather

My mother Moira, Nana, me as an infant, and my grandfather Frank.

My paternal grandfather, Francis George Gilfeather, was born on June 13, 1909 in Boston, Massachusetts. He was the eldest surviving son of Michael Francis Gilfeather and Bertha Margaret Rau. The 1910 US Census lists him as a ten month old child living with his parents and four year old sister Mary. His brother James died from pneumonia in infancy.

The Gilfeathers lived in Roxbury, a historically diverse neighborhood in Boston. Michael and Bertha represented two ethnic groups. Michael was born to Irish immigrants and Bertha’s parents were German immigrants.

As a young married couple with two small children, Michael and Bertha shared their lodging with the Canavan family. Alice was the same age as Michael and Bertha. Her three siblings were in their teens. Ten years later, the US Census tells us that the Canavans were gone, and Bertha’s brother Fred was living with the Gilfeathers. The family had expanded with three more boys.

Frank grew up in a working-class household. His father, Michael, had worked in Boston-area shoe factories since he was fourteen years old. By the time Frank reached adulthood, he had entered the world of office work. At twenty years old, Frank was working as a “scrip man” in a broker house. Scrip referred to paper stock and bond certificates. A scrip clerk handled the records and transfer of these certificates.

Within three years, Frank had moved to 60 Mystic Avenue in Melrose, Massachusetts. He married Lillian Burkhardt at Immaculate Conception Church in Revere on June 24, 1933. They had two sons, Frank Jr. and Paul.

In 1940, Frank was working at Stone & Webster , a major engineering, construction, and utility-management company headquartered in Boston. Stone & Webster was involved in power plants, electric utilities, industrial facilities, and large engineering projects during the 1930s and 1940s. Working at this firm may have influenced Frank to encourage his sons to study engineering.

The family relocated for a number of years to Oak Park, Illinois. There, Frank worked as an office manager for a wholesale coal company. They returned to Massachusetts when my dad Paul was in high school.

I had a very short time with my grandfather. He died when I was three years old. I have a memory of him catching me in the hallway of his home and saying “big eyes” to me. I widened my eyes for him.

Frank was heading to a Red Sox game with my dad when he had a heart attack. He died on August 25, 1965 at the age of 56. He is buried in Melrose, MA.

To my father’s father–because you endured, I am here. I barely knew your voice, your dreams, or your fears, yet I know that you lived.

On the Birth of Lawrence Theodore Mutty

My uncle “Barry”, my mother as an infant, and my grandfather Lawrence.

My maternal grandfather, Lawrence Theodore Mutty, was born on June 12, 1905 in Bangor, Maine. Lawrence was the youngest child of John Baptist Mutty and Estelle Pooler. His parents were born in Maine to Québécois families. Significantly younger than his siblings (all born between 1885-1896), Lawrence benefited from the family’s financial stability and social standing.

By the time he was four years old, the Muttys had moved from Bangor to Melrose, Massachusetts. Lawrence attended St. Mary’s Grammar School in Melrose, followed by three years at St. John’s Preparatory School in Danvers. He transferred to Boston College High School, where he graduated in 1923.

I knew that my grandfather earned a medical degree from the Middlesex College of Medicine and Surgery in Waltham, MA, on the site that now houses Brandeis University. In 2012, I brought my mother to the archives at Brandeis. University Archivist Maggie McNeely graciously unearthed Lawrence’s records, including his school application.

On the application, Lawrence listed three references: Dr. Joseph H. Fay, Melrose family doctor and public health advocate; Dr. Russell F. Sullivan, a Melrose native and Boston-area orthopedic surgeon; and U.S. Senator David Walsh, the first Catholic senator from Massachusetts. Senator Walsh visited Knights of Columbus chapters through the state, likely including Melrose, to maintain contact with constituents.

The application revealed that Lawrence’s medical education took a circuitous route. He attended Boston College for one year, then took courses in Chemistry at Boston University and Physics at Massachusetts Institute of Technology before heading over to Harvard Dental School for one year. He changed direction by entering the Massachusetts College of Osteopathy. Lawrence graduated as a Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine (D.O.) in 1929. He interned at Wesson Memorial Hospital in Springfield, MA before applying for post-graduate work at Middlesex. He received his Doctor of Medicine (M.D.) in 1931.

That same summer, Lawrence married Margaret Deasy in the chapel of the Convent of the Holy Child Jesus in Melrose. He and Margaret attended the same grammar school. Their romance began when they were in local theatrical productions. On March 23, 1923, a Melrose Free Press review of the comedy “Peg o’ My Heart” observed:

A sweeter Peg than Miss Deasy could hardly be imagined…Her work was greeted with a storm of applause. Lawrence Mutty played the part of Jerry, his masculine personality making him an ideal hero.

Lawrence and Margaret began their married life in Manchester-by-the-Sea. Within a few years, they moved to Wareham where Lawrence practiced medicine with privileges at the newly opened Tobey Hospital. They had two children—my uncle Lawrence Barry and my mother Moira Margaret.

Tragically, Lawrence developed malignant hypertension, a condition that was almost always fatal before the advent of effective blood pressure medications. He died on February 26, 1942 at the age of 36, leaving behind his wife and two young children. His sister Marie helped Margaret bring him home. She and her husband Louis McNally offered a plot in Wyoming Cemetery. He is buried in Melrose, MA.

To my mother’s father–because you endured, I am here. I did not know your voice, your dreams, or your fears, yet I know that you lived.

On the Birth of Peter Hansen Burkhardt

My paternal great-grandfather, Peter Hansen Burkhardt, was born on April 26, 1873 in Dybbøl, a small village in what was then the Prussian Province of Schleswig-Holstein. For those of us tracing family lines in this part of Europe, nationality is not straightforward. Dybbøl was Danish since the Viking Age. After the Second Schleswig War in 1864, the village and surrounding area came under Prussian control. When Peter and his twin sister Anne Marie were born, the region remained linguistically and culturally Danish, even as it became part of the German Empire (a federated state lead by Prussia) in 1871. After World War I, Dybbøl was returned to Denmark in the Treaty of Versailles.

In simple terms, the border between Denmark and Germany shifted many times during this era.

Family lore says that Peter went to sea as a young teenager in the late 1880s, joining a merchant ship to avoid conscription into the Prussian army. I learned that Dybbøl was the center of intense battles in the First Schleswig War (1848–1851) and the Second Schleswig War (1864). I understand why Peter and his family would support a decision to avoid serving in an army that defeated their homeland.

An article in the New York Times in 1888 described military training in the Prussian army in this way: “Under ordinary circumstances the German lad steps into the ranks at the age of 20. For three years he serves with the colors, the next four years he is in the reserve, and the following five years he belongs to the Landwehr, another reserve more remote than the first. Of these twelve years the first three are occupied entirely in severe military work.” ~From the blog 19th Century Rhineland

His twin sister, Anne Marie, remained home. In 1897, she married Heinrich Nissen in nearby Sønderborg. I found baptism and burial records that indicate she lost at least three infant children between 1897 and 1909. I believe there were children who survived, since family stories describe letters exchanged between the Nissen and Burkhardt families. I am searching for the records to confirm their lives.

Peter traveled the world before stepping off a ship, in wooden shoes and without a word of English, and opted to stay in Boston. We were told that a young Irishwoman named Mary D’Arcy noticed men teaching him incorrect (or perhaps vulgar?) English and took him under her wing. They later married and raised eight children in Revere, Massachusetts. They lost one baby, Peter, during a cholera outbreak.

Census records trace Peter’s working life over time. In 1900, he is listed as a house painter. By 1910 and 1920, he worked in ice cream manufacturing. In 1920, he is recorded as a homeowner, marking stability in his work and home life. By 1930, he had returned to house painting, and in 1940, he worked for the government as a painter.

Peter died on May 24, 1950, at the age of 77, in Revere, Massachusetts. I do not know where he is buried.

To my father’s mother’s father–because you endured, I am here. I did not know your voice, your dreams, or your fears, yet I know that you lived.

On the Birth of Mary Josephine D’Arcy

Mary D’Arcy’s daughters (standing), May and Grace.
Identities of the seated women are unknown.

My paternal great-grandmother, Mary Josephine D’Arcy, was born in Oughterard, Ireland on March 5, 1871. I do not have a photograph of Mary herself, so I am sharing a photograph of her two eldest daughters, Mary (“May”) and Grace. They look so loving and joyful.

Nana said that her mother was born in Ireland to French parents. This isn’t exactly true. The D’Arcys are believed to be descended from a French family that arrived in Ireland in the 14th century. One of the 14 Tribes of Galway, the D’Arcys were a merchant family who wielded great power. I am sure that story was told down the generations with great pride.

In this branch of my family tree, my father’s mother’s family, I am confronting multiple spellings of the family name. Mary’s last name was D’Arcy, but I have seen Darcy and Dorsey as variations in vital records and censuses.

According to the Irish Civil Marriage Record, Martin Darcy and Bridget Davin were wed on April 15, 1868. He was 24 and she was 22. They were both laborers in Porridgetown, and their fathers Rodger Darcy and Peter Davin are listed as farmers. Porridgetown is a township of Oughterard.

In the 1871 Civil Birth Registry in County Galway, Ireland, Martin Darcy and Bridget Davin registered their infant daughter Mary (my great-grandmother) as born in Porridgetown. Kate Davin was present at the birth. I am assuming that Kate was a female relative of Bridget’s. Seven years later, Bridget D’Arcy‘s death was recorded in Porridgetown. The cause? Uterine inflammation.

Mary D’Arcy arrived in the United States when she was seventeen, possibly with her older brother Rodger. I do not know where she worked, but I do know that she met Peter Burkhardt in Boston, and they married in Chelsea on September 21, 1893. In the Massachusetts Marriage Registry, Mary’s parents are listed as Martin Dorsey and Bridget Davin.

Mary had nine children in 18 years. Her second born, Peter, died in infancy during a cholera outbreak in 1896. Nana used to recite the names of her siblings: Herbie, Marty, Gracie, May, Carrie, Dorie, (she was the youngest daughter, Lillian) and Alfie.

Mary died on March 16, 1927, at the age of 56, in Revere, Massachusetts. I do not know where she is buried.

To my father’s mother’s mother–because you endured, I am here. I did not know your voice, your dreams, or your fears, yet I know that you lived.

Making Sense of My AncestryDNA Results

I received my AncestryDNA results last week and I am learning how to interpret what they actually mean. Ancestry.com identifies “Regions” where my DNA most closely matches their genetic reference panels. None of my Regions came as a surprise, but understanding how they arrive at those numbers has been instructive.

As Ancestry.com explains:

“A reference panel is a set of people whose DNA is typical of DNA from a certain place or group. When you take an AncestryDNA® test, we compare your DNA to the DNA in our reference panels to identify your ancestral origins. For example, to determine your ancestral regions, we find the reference panel DNA that’s most similar to each segment of your DNA. Then, we assign your segments to the regions they resemble.” — Ancestry.com

In other words, Ancestry.com assigns my DNA to regions even if my ancestors didn’t live in that exact location. My Quebec assignment, for example, appears because my genetic profile closely matches the modern descendants of the French founders who settled there in the 1600s. That lines up with what I know from my family history.

My report also shows small percentages from England and Norway, even though (as far as I know) none of my ancestors came from those countries. These small percentages simply mean I share slight genetic similarity with the people in those reference panels.

Another important point: we inherit a random mix of DNA from each of our parents. So the heritage I know from family records won’t necessarily line up with the DNA that I randomly received. And my parents inherited a random mix from their parents. I will never get 100% accuracy. There will be missing pieces.

With that in mind, I compared what I know about my family history with what my DNA report showed:

Irish: Four of my great-grandparents were Irish. That makes me 50% Irish. My mother’s grandparents were Irish immigrants, and on my father’s side both his maternal grandmother and paternal grandfather came from Irish families. My DNA shows 57% Irish, specifically from the Munster and Connacht provinces.

Québécois: Two of my maternal great-grandparents were descended from Quebec immigrants. I am 25% Québécois. My DNA shows 16%. From the results-by-parent chart, it appears that I inherited a larger share of my mother’s Irish DNA than her Québécois DNA.

Danish: My father’s maternal grandfather emigrated from Denmark. I am one-eighth, or 12.5% Danish. My DNA shows 11%, which is remarkably close.

German: My father’s paternal grandmother was born to German immigrants. Another one-eighth or 12.5%. My DNA shows 10%, a second close match.

In the end, my DNA results didn’t reveal any big surprises—but the report did add depth to what I already know. The results show which parts of my heritage were passed down to me, and in what proportions, while also pointing to historic communities that my ancestors belong to. It’s a starting point for more research, and a reminder that DNA is one more tool for understanding where we come from.

The photo above shows my teenaged daughters walking through a tunnel in Ireland in August, 2002.

Learning about Champlain

A book, audiobook, and laptop on a table.

I grew up in Massachusetts. As a child, my understanding of history was Massachusetts-centric. The Pilgrims. The Salem Witch Trials. The Boston Tea Party. The Battles of Lexington and Concord. I had one World History class in high school. I retained little beyond Martin Luther’s 95 Theses, posted in 1517.

My understanding of the world broadened in adulthood, yet those early themes of migration, injustice, and revolution still shape my interest in history.

All my ancestors arrived in the United States from Europe or Canada between 1840 and 1890. The Canadian side came from Quebec to Maine; the Québécois branch had originally migrated from France in the 1600s. During recent travels to Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia, I learned about the French explorers and settlers who shaped that region.

A visit to Port-Royal National Historical Site sparked a renewed interest in Samuel de Champlain. Years ago, I had purchased this book at a used bookstore in Brattleboro, VT:

Fischer, David Hackett (2008). Champlain’s Dream: the European Founding of North America. New York: Simon & Schuster. ISBN 9781416593324.

At over 800 pages, the book overwhelmed me, and I put it aside. After visiting Port-Royal, I borrowed the abridged audiobook version from my local library. The storytelling quality was the charm. I listened while driving—my attention drifted at times—but the narrative rekindled my interest in returning to the full book.

Since listening to the audiobook, I’ve watched several videos featuring Fischer discussing his research methods and findings. All three modes—visiting the site, listening to the audiobook, and watching the author speak—are helping me digest the dense history of Champlain’s journeys and the early French settlements of Nova Scotia and Quebec.

I plan to return to the book and give myself time to absorb its deeper descriptions of the period.