Year End 2009

I’m waiting for it. Waiting for lists of earnest resolutions from my fellow Genea-Bloggers. Like the New Year follows Santa, resolutions follow wish lists ... the wish lists for obscure and frustrating ancestors to pop fully formed out of the blue. Resolutions then deal with the reality of finding them ourselves.

Most of said prolific fellows will undoubtedly accomplish most of their projected enterprises, and blog about it to boot. I’m going to take a pass on resolutions since I seem to recycle the same list of projects. See, I’m not in denial.

Come to think of it, I didn’t blog as frequently as most genealogists. What on earth was I doing all year? Some kind of personal 2009 Top Ten list might be more fitting ... Memorable Moments, Genealogical or Otherwise?

■ New correspondents were extremely valuable for me this year. A highly regarded historian in Scotland seriously addressed one of my McFadyen questions. Turns out she’s Canadian and we enjoyed a moment sharing memories of eccentric mutual acquaintances. Other interesting and gratifying Scottish contacts were made. Equally exciting was contact with a truly committed genealogist of Latvian descent who has the multiple language skills I envy.

■ My technical skills improved slightly beyond kindergarten. A major advance was learning to talk tough, without crying, to the ISP techies who messed up my whole system. After numerous expensive surprises, I drew the line at a new keyboard. A local Asian emporium provided me with cunning stick-on letters to cover the worn-off letters (was it the cheese and pickle sandwiches?). I am hot pink.

■ Quebec land records, even at second-hand distance, can be exciting “new” resources (blogged about under Fraser and Dougall).

■ My new publisher, Dundurn Press, kindly invited me to their Christmas open house and I believe it when they say they are Canada’s largest publishing house. Hundreds of authors turned out to drink and chew, each bearing a name badge with their latest book title. The throng was so crushing, who could read them (giving new meaning to in your face). Upon leaving, I was amused to see my latest book is called Details From a Larger Canvas. I wonder who the author of Genealogical Standards of Evidence is. February 2010 will tell. And the sub-title is changed to A Guide for Family Historians.

■ My game cousin-editor is reviewing the last McFadyen Family History draft. Her skills in the literary department are professional and I’m trying not to abuse her but she volunteered without prompting to go to the library to look at Evidence Explained. She might have passed out when the librarian staggered over with the 800-page bible. OK, it’s not a real moment, just my fantasy.

■ The OGS Conference is always an annual highlight and proved that our Ontario Chapter APG comes to the fore when events require (besides contributing a large component to the speakers’ roster). We ran our free consultations at “Ask A Professional” and even squeezed in a meeting. Genea-Blogger Steve Danko from California received his PLCGS from the National Institute; see Steve’s big grin.

■ Receiving the NGS Award for Excellence: Genealogical Methods and Sources was a unique thrill for me, a pinnacle in my mind. On the other hand, the news bypassed some of my professional organizations. Reality check: stay humble. Being nominated for Family Tree Magazine’s 40 Best Genealogy Blogs was also a pleasant surprise; results to come in their May issue. My breath is not on hold. “Vote early and vote often” takes the edge off.

■ The country’s greatest grand-daughter and future prime minister turned eleven this month. No camels in Vancouver, but I visited regardless. She’s more mature than some alleged adults I know. Since she already appreciates mystery fiction, how far can it be to real-life family history? :-) Granny treads lightly.


■ Adventure-trekker Bruce Kirkby wrote Sand Dance: By Camel Across Arabia’s Southern Desert (McClelland & Stewart, 2000), possibly the most beautiful book I’ve ever seen. He and some companions crossed the long Empty Quarter from Oman through Saudi Arabia to Abu Dhabi. FABulous photographs. He thanked me for my email thanking him. I’m in love again.

■ Some of the year was consumed with a significant family shift, viz., C3's departure for, and residency in the Netherlands. Mamma Mia has inspected the premises and declares approval of the situation. As does Wimpey, the international cat.

Little of my travel adventures in the above. Oh well, there’s always that New Year beginning soon. I hear Australia is having a problem with wild camels.

Page from seigneurial records of Argenteuil, St. Andrews: citation pending.
Photograph, “Wimpey at Home,” by CDM, 2009.
All other photos by BDM, 2009.

Advent Calendar: Christmas Music

The Genea-Bloggers’ Advent Calendar of Christmas Music asks: What songs did your family listen to during Christmas? Did you ever go caroling? Did you have a favorite song?

For me, the first and last questions centred for many years on a Christmas album published by The Kingston Trio back in the 1970s(?). The Trio found a wonderful collection of little-known and little-heard carols of both merry and poignant variety. Surely my children grew up listening to (and memorizing) those songs I played endlessly during the season. My old LP disappeared as music technology formats changed.

Unfortunately I can’t find many of those songs on YouTube, especially by the old K3, but here is one by Harry Belafonte from a Muppets Family Christmas. OK, I hope I got that URL right.

Other nostalgic Christmas melodies on the album I am sorely missing are:
“Go Tell It on a Mountain”
“Goodnight My Baby Goodnight”
“Children Go Where I send Thee”
“Gloucestershire Wassail”
I’m sure I don’t remember all the titles.

Question no. 2: Our first Christmas in rural farm living was a revelation in many ways. We were startled on Christmas Eve preparations—when we still had a marginal Santa youngster—by a ruckus in the front yard. What should appear, not eight tiny reindeer, but a sleighful of rosy neighbours bellowing Christmas carols. It was a sleigh because we had snow, lots of it. Pulled by a tractor, but nonetheless. We ex-urban people dithered over how quickly (unexpectedly) we could offer hot chocolate or appropriate toddies (knowing them better .. later .. they would have had their own reinforcements.) No thank you, they said, come join us, we have more concession roads still to visit.

What a heartwarming neighbourly tradition, and also not disappearing, I hope. Echoing words in the “Gloucestershire Wassail,” may I say to all my friends and readers, as if I was actually at your doorstep,
"Bless all in this house till we come again!"

Postcards: Newfoundland

A Festival of Postcards at Yvonne’s A Canadian Family blog, 6th edition:
“So this is your chance to share any of your black and white postcards, or colour postcards featuring white (think white sands and snow, White Cliffs of Dover etc.). As always, feel free to play with the theme. Do you have postcards depicting places that incorporate the word white (or bianco, blanc etc.)? How about a play on words (e.g. white elephant, it`s not black & white?) You’ve pretty well got carte blanche!”

I’ve always collected postcards. Their professional photography plays a large part to fill in my own amateur camera attempts, and trigger my memories of places I’ve been. They also represent faraway or intriguing places my friends have visited. This is my first time “playing” in this Festival and I found one of my favourites. It’s black and white, so it fits the criteria.
Caption on reverse:
“Submerged house being towed by a schooner. In November, 1929, a major tidal wave struck Newfoundland’s south coast, resulting in extensive property damage and the loss of more than twenty lives.”
– Produced and distributed by M & B Postcards, (709) 745-1908
– Photo courtesy of the Provincial Archives of Newfoundland and Labrador (reference PANL A2-149)

The postcard was mailed from Rocky Harbour NL on 7 August 2007 by my travelling daughter. A magnificent photograph that speaks to isolated communities and family salvage.

Dougall Part 6: Quebec Land Records

Remember the Quebec Family History Society (QFHS) duo who wished to use my guinea pigs to familiarize themselves with Quebec land records? My previous posts about them are Frasers Part 8 and Frasers Part 9. Thanks to Gary and Sharon (again), their efforts have led to more information about the DOUGALL family’s early days in the St. Andrews area ... information I could not have picked up by any other means.

The family patriarch John Dougall was said to have arrived in Quebec in 1834 (family outline here). I knew his farm was at a place called Beech Ridge, and this map shows the proximity of the 90-acre property to St. Andrews.
John Dougall’s name does not appear in the land records. Instead, his son George was the tenant of record in seigneurial books. In the 1842 census, John was in the Argenteuil seigniory and George was recorded nearby.(1) The first Dougall appearance in the seigniorial books was 11 November 1852 on what was then known as lot 20 south side Beech Ridge. But George Dougall of Montreal was paying the requisite rent from then until the last entry I see in 1873. His first payment was apparently to catch up with 1851 arrears as well as 1852. The annual payments began at about £1.7s. and increased only a fraction over the twenty years, although sometimes interest was added for late payments.

George was a tailor by trade who married Agnes Moffat in Montreal in 1842(2) and thereafter lived in the city. His father John was still located on the Beech Ridge property as a farmer in the 1861 census.(3) At that time John was at the advanced age of 78 and his household consisted only of his wife and a 28-year-old unmarried daughter who had become their caregiver. (Page by page searches of the 1851 census, and the Ancestry database, have not uncovered John.)

You can see the questions that arise. Why did son George assume the rent payments for the farm fifteen years before his father died? If John was still a farmer in 1861, who was working the land for him? He has no “ag labs” living with him. The absence of the agricultural schedule is a real loss.

There is a gap from George’s last entry in the seigneurial records (1873) until the first entry in the Index aux immeubles for the cadastral system (1884) when the property was now designated lot 713, Saint Andrews, Argenteuil District. That first entry was notarial instrument no. 9148 dated 18 December 1884, and the primary party was Robert McBride Dougall, a carpenter and joiner in Montreal. Who? I had to scramble into my totally messy old files. This was a son of George Dougall the tailor—I did have some bare information about this family.

That document occupied four full pages ... Robert “herein acting as well as for himself & in his own individual behalf, as being vested with the rights of his brother the late John Dougall, in the estate and succession of his deceased mother the late Agnes Moffat in her lifetime wife of George Dougall of Montreal tailor ...”. In short, the heirs of Agnes (Moffat) Dougall were selling their interest in the farm to their father George Dougall. At first it appeared that George Dougall Sr. had predeceased his wife Agnes Moffat but this was not the case. To make things a tad confusing, George Jr. had also married an Agnes, daughter of Robert Kirkby and Ann Harrison(4), and George Jr. had recently died. None of the dates of death are recorded.

Among the many genealogy nuggets to extract from the document were:
● Hugh Brodie was the acting notary;
● son John Dougall was deceased;
● sons James Joseph Dougall and Peter Dougall were living in Pembina Crossing, Mountain County, Manitoba;
● son George Dougall, organ trimmer, had died in Woodstock, Ontario, between the execution of his will 23 June 1881 and its probate on 19 January 1884, his sole legatee being his widow Agnes J. Kirkby of Woodstock;
● agent Sampson Paul Robins had power of attorney to act for the above three distant heirs;
● daughter Jane Dougall was the wife of Sampson Paul Robins;
● in addition to the farm at Beech Ridge, shares in the family residence in St. Antoine Ward, cadastral no. 816, were also included in the transaction;
● the sale price was $3,106.74.

George Dougall, Montreal tailor, then sold the farm the same day to John Francis Mitchell, farmer at Beech Ridge, document no. 9149, which added more nuggets:
● George first acquired the property by deed from Thomas Cochran on 19 March 1839;
● deed no. 1493 was registered in the County of Deux Montagnes registry office by notary M.G.T. Deluren [tight binding, difficult to read].

At last I have some documentation to show that the Dougalls were at Beech Ridge before the 1842 census. As yet I do not have the entire details of accessing and properly citing these land records. Gary and Sharon are pleased to add these resources to their own educational lectures and writing. Win-win.

(1) 1842 Census Quebec, Deux Montagnes County, Argenteuil Seigniory; LAC microfilm C-728.
(2) Dougall-Moffat marriage, Registers of St. Gabriel Street Presbyterian Church, Montreal; Archives of Ontario microfilm MS 351 reel 2.
(3) John Dougall household, 1861 Census Quebec, County Argenteuil, Saint Andrews, p. 243; LAC microfilm C-1261.
(4) “Quebec Vital and Church Records (Drouin Collection), 1621-1967,” digital image, Ancestry.ca (http://www.ancestry.ca : accessed 2 July 2009), Dougall-Kirkby marriage, 5 April 1875; citing St Jean Presbyterian Church, Montreal.

Cemeteries Part 9

That’s kind of a fake title to make the post inclusive of part cemetery, part travel, part religion, by an amateur in most subjects. In most of my travels I try to photograph or at least make note of cemeteries and burial customs in different countries, but it’s not always convenient to say “Stop the bus!” or “Stop the airplane!” when something interesting crosses the horizon.

The most unique burial ground I have ever seen is the Ganges River in India. A city called Varanasi on Mother Ganga, as the river is known there, is probably the holiest site of the Hindu religion. Northern India has experienced a drought for three years and the Ganga is one of the victims. Today, the flow of the river barely reaches the bottom of the Varanasi ghats (the steps down to the river bank) and there’s some mud involved. The city is thousands of years old as an inhabited settlement, long devoted to one of the forms of the god Shiva. Pilgrimage to Varanasi and bathing in the waters of the Ganga, alive or dead, will purify the body and assist in releasing one’s soul from the endless cycle of what we call reincarnation. Every day hordes of the faithful are immersing themselves in the holy waters. Men will strip down to the essentials but women enter fully clothed.
In Varanasi thousands of burials take place weekly by cremation. Many people come here to die so they are close to the river, or their corpses are brought from all over the country. The eldest male in the family as chief mourner takes charge of the purification arrangements. They include a fee for the use of a burning-ghat and a price for the necessary firewood from the ghat owner. We witnessed dozens of the rituals after dark at different stages. Out of respect, photography was a no-no. The bodies, clad in colours indicating male or female deaths, are first dipped in the river and then placed on individual fires. Mesmerized, we were told it takes 3-4 hours to burn a body to a smallish lump which is then consigned to Mother Ganga. A sunrise trip on the river confirmed the detritus of a culture dependent on the river for garbage disposal, sewage, laundry, and drinking water. Dead animals and unburnt bodies (such as young children) are part of the cycle.
Varanasi Postcard, pre-cremation purification. Our local guide, aptly named Krishna, informed us up front that he was a descendant of the warrior caste in Hindu society. Caste identification seemed important for almost every local guide we encountered. No doubt sensing our North American attitudes toward hygiene, Krishna explained in practiced fashion the results of a scientific experiment (bear in mind my lack of scientific terminology and general grasp). If you put a cholera bacterial strain into a bottle of “pure” water, it will take 24 hours to break down the toxins. If you place the same cholera strain into a bottle of Ganga water, the toxin will break down in three hours. “Break down” seems to mean made ineffective. The logic of this perforce lesson hovered uncertainly over our heads. I noted puzzlement on the faces of even medical and engineering professionals amongst us so I did not feel the only dunce. Krishna (above) also explained that the extremely wealthy owner of the largest, most popular burning-ghat was an Untouchable, a word now outlawed. Ghandi effected legal changes to caste discrimination more than 50 years ago, but cultural habits are alive and well. Krishna said the forbidden word “Untouchable” several times, not masking his contempt for a man who was the lowest of the low—that he profited from death seemed to be a secondary consideration. Reminded me somewhat of the solitary and often anonymous life of hangman executioners.

For a more colourful take on the situation, you could visit Mark Moxon’s Travel Writing. GeneaBloggers may ask if these deaths/burials are recorded in the state (Uttar Pradesh) archives. Sorry, the pall of wood-burning smoke and incense totally clouded my left brain.

McFadyens Part 10: So Many Donalds

One conundrum after another. How many McFadyens does it take to change a light bulb? Only about six if they all have the same name and are in the same place at the same time!

A Donald McFadyen came from Scotland to Cape Breton and received some land in the rear of Gut of Canso from the government. In 1825, as a single man aged 28, he petitioned to relinquish the land to his brother and take up a lot “between the Great and Little Harbours at Malagawatch.”(1) The request was approved. By 1826 Donald held a warrant for two such-described lots on Lake Bras d’Or.(2) We have to remember that a Crown grant of land was more than a one-step process. Final title to the land, the grant itself, would not be given until some settlement conditions or other obligations had been satisfied. Before that, transfers sometimes took place between individuals that may not be recorded.

Two baptisms naming a father Donald McFadyen at “Merigowatch” appear in the Belfast, Prince Edward Island, Presbyterian register.(3) Son Lauchlin was born 5 June 1826 and daughter Catharine born 2 February 1828. The PEI clergyman visited Cape Breton once a year in the late 1820s until the area had its own incumbent in 1830 or shortly thereafter.

At the baptisms, the mother of the two children was recorded first as Mary McLean and next as Mary Calder. The anomaly was apparently caused by confusion with Lauchlin McFadyen’s wife Mary McLean, a couple who were also having children baptized.

We think this Donald died at Malagawatch on 10 June 1869 at the age of 77, registered by Alexander McFadyen.(4) Surviving Nova Scotia BMDs of the nineteenth century are scarce. It’s amazing to find one relevant to your research. We know this Donald had a son Alexander who stayed “at home.” Better (best!) yet, Donald’s parents were named as Lauchlin and Catharine. See the names of his first two children?

So far so good? The single man of 1825 could have married and had two children by 1828. Let’s be clear this is not *my* Donald McFadyen the soldier of River Denys who arrived at Cape Breton in 1828. But the same-name syndrome entails a necessary exercise of separating their identities. And keeping them separate. For the time being I won’t go into the agonies of untangling statistics for two Donalds on the 1838 and 1861 (there is no 1851) census for Nova Scotia which are heads of households only.

Enter Donald2 McFadyen, son of Donald the soldier, who was born in Coll, Scotland, ca. 1818.(5) His descendants—I am not one of them—say he moved to Malagawatch to take up a 188-acre lot. It’s pretty clear he thrived there, as a number of cousins independently confirm.

So why is Brenda still scratching her head? Indeed, the Crown land map shows a 188-acre grant with Donald McFadyen’s name, on the southeast side of Little Harbour, actually on what was/is called Militia Point.(6) We are fortunate to have the Crown land map. Unfortunately, it does not show the dates of a grant. It usually has references to a certificate number, or a book and page number. Years ago an on-site researcher at Nova Scotia Archives and Records Management (NSARM) was able to say the 188-acre parcel was granted in 1836.(7)
The Crown land map shows another grant of 165 acres at Malagawatch with frontage on both Big and Little Harbours in the name of Daniel McFadyen. The relevant certificate no. 9030 has not been located yet. The 165 acres was almost certainly made to the Donald McFadyen who petitioned in 1825 to have land at Malagawatch. The description for him “between the Great and Little Harbours of Malagawatch” [italics added] is specific. There are only two lots in the vicinity that match this description. The 188-acre lot faces Little Harbour but has no access to Big (Malagawatch) Harbour.

On the 1884 Church map of residents/occupants, both properties still have “D.” McFadyen on them.(8) The one between the harbours also has the addition of D. McFadyen Jr. on it. However, the early Donald did not have a son called either Daniel or Donald that we know of, whereas “our” Donald2 had two sons with those names. The 1865 Hutchinson Directory lists a Donald McFadyen, shoemaker, at Malagawatch. Hmmmmm. And I thought they were all farmers, according to census returns.

Which Donald received which grant when? Who was the Daniel of the 165 acres? Were Dan’l and Don’l confused in English from the verbal Gaelic sounds? Where exactly did each one live? Who was “D. Jr.” later on? Did Donald of 1825 and his immediate descendants move elsewhere after 1836? The Donald McFadyen on Cape Breton before 1828 could only be from a different family—different, but perhaps still related in some way.

Clearly, all the evidence is not in. Access to more land records might help resolve the conundrum. Once more to the Maritimes? Not only NSARM, but the county land registry office in Port Hood, is calling me. “We Rise Again.”

(1) Donald McFaden, no. 3053, “Nova Scotia ... Cape Breton Island Petitions 1787-1843,” database, Nova Scotia Archives and Records Management (www.gov.ns.ca/nsarm : accessed 2 January 2009); citing NSARM microfilm 15799.
(2) Murdoch McLeod, no. 3142, enquiry re two harbour lots at Malagawatch ‘for which Donald McFadden holds a warrant,’ “Nova Scotia ... Cape Breton Island Petitions 1787-1843,” database, Nova Scotia Archives and Records Management (www.gov.ns.ca/nsarm/databases/land : accessed 10 May 2008); citing NSARM microfilm 15799.
(3) St John’s, Belfast, Prince Edward Island, Presbyterian baptisms, 1823-1849; LAC microfilm C-3028.
(4) Donald McFadyen, death registration no. 32 (1869), Inverness County, Nova Scotia, Deaths 1868-1869; RG 38, vol. 50, NSARM.
(5) Saint Lawrence passenger list (1828), RG 18, NSARM.
(6) Maps 110 and 117, Eastern Nova Scotia [Cape Breton], Crown Lands Record Centre, Department of Natural Resources, Halifax. See also “Publications, Maps and Digital Products,” Nova Scotia Department of Natural Resources (http://gov.ns.ca/natr).
(7) Index to Land Grants, Book 2, p. 62, NSARM; correspondence to author from Muriel Edwards, 25 January 1972.
(8) Ambrose F. Church, Map of Inverness County, Nova Scotia (Halifax, NS: A.F. Church & Co., 1884).

Wordless Wednesday

Hill of Crosses, Siauliai, Lithuania; photograph BDM October 2006.

Frasers Part 9: Quebec Land Records

Speaking of Quebec’s Land Register (in Frasers Part 8), I knew my John Fraser the farmer had been on the Rivière Rouge Road outside St. Andrews, Quebec (St-André Est) since 1806. It was not until the 1861 census that I could find the property defined as lots 21, 22, and 23. Obviously, John or his sons had acquired two adjacent lots in the intervening 55 years.

Map from Comte d'Argenteuil website.
With that information, my colleagues in Montreal were able to determine that the cadastral numbers were 592, 593, and 594 in St. Andrews cadastre, division (circonscription) of Argenteuil. The determination itself involved consulting a modern cadastral map to pinpoint and compare with the old property description. As Gary Schroder put it, “We only need one cadastral number to unlock the mysteries.” Although the 1901 and 1911 censuses provide space for a household’s cadastral lot number, the enumerator simply wrote Rivière Rouge for my Frasers. Sharon Callaghan found the necessary map and copied the Index des Immeubles for each lot. Then she chose a few promising-looking sample document numbers to pull.
Map provided by Sharon Callaghan and Gary Fraser from BAnQ, September 2009. Lot 594 is marked in colour.
Lot 594 was probably the original family land. Document no. 26647 was a declaration made by Angus Fraser, farmer in the parish of St. Andrews, on 22 November 1911. In essence, he said that the land was in the estate of his late parents: his father James Fraser died about 30 years ago, and his mother Anne McMartin, widow of James Fraser, died about 20 years ago, both intestate. Their only and lawful heirs in equal measure were Angus himself, Alexander Fraser, Annie Fraser, Catherine Fraser and Elisabeth Fraser. Alexander died intestate and unmarried about three years ago; thus his brother Angus and three sisters were his heirs. The declaration was written and sworn by notary Gaetan Valois and registered on 12 December 1911.

The next document of interest was registered on all three lots. No. 28757 was dated 23 November 1911 but not registered until 25 July 1914. Angus Fraser, Annie Fraser, Catharine Fraser and Elisabeth Fraser sold un droit de passage through their lands to the Canadian Northern Railway. The piece in question was a strip of land 100 feet wide, more or less following the River Rouge Road, for a price of $403.00 (piastres was the word used). This deed was drawn up by notary Joseph Evariste Valois of Lachute.

The last document I received was no. 38976 dated 9 November 1925, with the signature of notary Gaetan Valois of Lachute, registered 12 December 1925. Angus Fraser and Annie Fraser signed a deed of sale for all three pieces of land to Thomas A. MacAdam for a life annuity of $300.00 until both vendeurs are deceased. To show their right and title to the property, a number of declarations were included in the deed (each statement refers to a corresponding document number). The vendors were heirs-at-law of:
• their late parents, James Fraser and Annie McMartin, as per document no. 26647;
• their late uncle, Daniel Fraser, document no. 26648;
• their deceased brother Alexander Fraser, nos. 26647 and 26648;
• their deceased sister Catherine Mary Fraser, no. 38953;
• their deceased sister Elizabeth Jane Fraser, no. 38954;
• their late brother James Fraser Jr., no. 38950.

I expect the more recent documents would give a more exact date of death for some of them, but I do know that most are recorded in St. Andrews East Protestant Cemetery. One thing I find surprising is that all of these people died intestate! A note made later in the margin of the register book indicates that certificate no. 9115B was made 1 December 1939 to record the deaths of Angus and Miss Annie Fraser. The documents are register copies, of course; original papers were filed with the witnessing notaries.

The registry book in this case dates back only to the late 1800s, not far back enough to show any activity by my direct ancestors John the farmer or possibly his daughter Nancy. For that, seigniorial records for Argenteuil should be sought. Apparently they exist in the Montreal Branch of Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec (BAnQ), but what kinds of documents they consist of, or what kinds of information they provide are unknowns. You can tell the end is not yet in sight.

Campbells Part 1: Ahnentafel Roulette

Randy Seaver likes to play games. He’s good at urging us to examine our ancestors with his Saturday Night Genealogy Fun. So I’m a bit tardy. Who’s keeping track? The idea was to calculate a random ancestor on your ahnentafel chart, so Randy calls it roulette. Ahnentafels are basically a pedigree system with a number for each direct ancestor. I cheated because the chart I’m consulting starts with my Dad instead of me so it’s all Scottish.

Plunging right ahead, my Dad would be 113 if he were alive today. Divide by 4 and round off. Let’s see, that must be 28.25. Rounded off Randy’s way, that makes it 29. An odd number guarantees it’s gonna be a female ancestor.

Say hello to my no. 29, Jessie McKenzie. Let’s not confuse her with my no. 13, Jessie McKenzie. Yes ... SIGH ... on top of too many John Frasers and Donald McFadyens, apparently I have two Jessie McKenzies. I probably have several Flora McLeans as well. Others with Scottish heritage probably share my desperate pining for an occasional Cassandra or Hortense to alleviate the pain.

That takes care of Randy’s first two tasks. Next up is tell us three facts about this person.
(1) Jessie was born 20 April 1782.
(2) Her place of birth was Dornoch in Sutherlandshire.
(3) She married Donald Campbell (oops, I see more than one Donald Campbell, damn!).

Whew, I made it, three for three. And how do I know all that information? Brilliant research on my part? Not exactly. My delightful cousin Madaline did all this work in her epic Our Campbell Legacy. It's so large I confess I haven't read every page yet. In what remains of my lifetime, I will never achieve what Madaline has accomplished. Fortune smiles on me that we share a lineage making us 4th cousins who have never even met each other in person.

I’m hereby writing this down about Jessie to fulfill Randy’s fourth requirement. Jessie and her husband Donald Campbell came to Cape Breton in 1817, probably on the ship Frances Ann among Rev. Norman McLeod’s followers. They settled on a land grant at St. George’s Channel (on Lake Bras d’Or) in a community that became known as Points West Bay in Richmond County. Their dates of death and place of burial are unknown and forgotten now. Perhaps I will have enough for a Campbells Part 2 one day, but I hope to have given Madaline a live hug by then!

Frasers Part 8: Infiltrating the Cadastral System

Information in the Land Register of Quebec (Registre Foncier du Québec) has been largely untapped by genealogists. Sharon Callaghan recently authored two articles in Connections, the quarterly journal of the Quebec Family History Society—vol. 30, no. 3 (2008) and vol. 31, no. 1 (2009). Sharon penetrated, for family historians, the complexities of the province’s rather unique history of land ownership and methods of accessing the documentation.

The Quebec Family History Society was formed in 1977 and I’ve been a member of QFHS since early days (no. 273). Sharon and fellow member Gary Schroder decided to work out some “real life” examples of land registry tracing. My ancestor John Fraser the farmer became a guinea pig. Not my John Fraser the blacksmith. John the farmer had lived on the River Rouge Road outside St Andrews, Quebec (St-André Est) since 1806.

In order to keep this post to a readable length, I’m merely introducing the Land Register of Quebec. It's a learning exercise for me, because it’s not a particularly easy subject to follow. My Fraser news and documentation, some of it still to come, will have to wait until Part 9.

How would a family historian find the history of occupancy and transactions on an individual property in the province of Quebec? To compare, most of my experience is with historical Ontario land records (say pre-1950). Once you know the name of a rural township with a concession and lot number, you consult the abstract index to deeds for that property. The abstract index is a short-form outline of all registered transactions on that piece of land dating from its original Crown land patent (title deed). Created in county and district land registry offices, southern Ontario abstract indexes were microfilmed by the Genealogical Society of Utah in the 1960s. Thus, they can be viewed at LDS Family History Centers, at the Archives of Ontario in Toronto, or at various smaller archives with selected film copies. Urban properties established in old town plans or subdivisions require somewhat more effort to trace back from a modern address.

Quebec, on the other hand, has a history of French seigneurial land grants, abolished in 1854, which overlapped with the English township land division dating from the 1760s. The present Quebec cadastral system evolved with new surveys from the 1860s and completed in the 1890s. The surveys had to take existing properties into account, but allocated new numbers for them within each cadastre or district.

The key is to identify the relevant cadastre (current land division) of the ancestral residence, and then sleuth with maps, surveys, directories, atlases, and every other possible source to determine a cadastral number for urban or rural land. Municipal offices can assist with if you know a street address.

Cadastral numbers are not the same as previous lot numbers, if indeed there had been a prior lot number. Armed with this special number and presenting yourself at the appropriate land registry office, you’ll be able to access the land register for the relevant property (similar to the abstract indexes mentioned above). The references (actes) in the register can include deeds, surveys, wills, and other notarial records going back to the lot’s cadastral establishment. One lot may require searching more than one number. The land registers began in the 1830s as land offices were set up. Sharon rightly celebrates that this is another way to find genealogically-rich but often elusive notarial documents.

An alternative, if you’ve found the required number(s), is to use the fee-based online database leading to the land register ... if you feel comfortable with the French language. The actes have now been digitized as far back as the oldest cadastre system. You can order a copy of any act from the register no matter its date. See full information on the Natural Resources website.

Before I even fully grasp the handle of this newly opened door, I’m asking, what about pre-1830 records? Ahhh ... think seigneurial document collections! ... a different ball game. The possibilities expand.

Historical Toronto: Berkeley Castle and Lost Buildings

"Berkeley Castle" Photograph by BDM 2009.

A lovely cluster of old buildings called “Berkeley Castle” has been renovated at the foot of Berkeley Street between The Esplanade and Front Street. They date from the middlish-1800s, including what was once a knitting mill. The present site has a pleasant courtyard and a unique appeal for small business occupants. The current owners have acknowledged some of the history, e.g. “In 1842 the site of Berkeley Castle Yard was occupied by orchards and sat at the water's edge. A formal garden and fairground existed there as well. Joseph Small, who was once mayor of the town, owned the property and built a wharf at the foot of Berkeley street.”

But long before the mid-1800s, I want to go back to when the Town of York was conceived and born. I’m not a historian or an archaeologist, but I have a story.

In 1793 Governor Simcoe selected a new capital for Upper Canada at Toronto Harbour. A muddy little town called York would spring up forthwith. Mind you, parliament was not in session here until 1795. Many officials were reluctant to move from their comfort at Newark (Niagara-on-the-Lake). The parliament buildings, aka Government House, were not completely finished until 1798. Their predominant site was on the east side of Berkeley Street, south of Front (once called Palace) Street. In the 1790s, Berkeley Street was the eastern town boundary.

Meanwhile, a number of plans and surveys existed for the town which occasioned plenty of angst among would-be residents and officers of the Crown. The governor’s office and the land committee were swamped with petitions for building lots and larger estates. Everyone wanted a prime location. Building contractors, carpenters and masons were in great demand from day one. Some properties were being claimed, and structures were being built, before land titles could be confirmed.

My interest was in a man called George Porter who was among the earliest arrivals from Newark in the summer of 1793. He took full advantage of the new opportunities. In his various petitions, Porter described himself as a “former sergeant of militia” or a carpenter. He erected one of the very first houses in the town, a log house on Lot 1, First Block. The lot was between Front and King Streets, bounded on the east by Berkeley and the west by what became Ontario Street (each block had several lots, sometimes of varying sizes, with a front and a back on differing streets).(1) Lots on the First Block along Front Street did not appear to include water lots across the street. Porter also had other irons in the fire, having a grant of land on the Don River and applications for other properties in York and Newark. It’s known that he had a wife and family in York by 1797.(2)

Enter John Small (1746-1831), clerk of Simcoe’s executive council, coming to York to take up his duties—John Small of the infamous 1800 duel which resulted in the death of the attorney-general and overshadowed his entire career (see Dictionary of Canadian Biography). On his arrival, Small decided the perfect spot for his new home was on Lot 1, First Block. He would be mere moments away from his work at Government House. But George Porter had already claimed it. The two men resolved Porter’s prior claim with Small buying him out on 31 August 1795 for $50 and a promise of completing the shingling.(3) They probably knew each other from their neighbouring town lot claims in Newark. Small would live in the house while planning his grand estate, intending for Porter’s house to become his eventual stable.

A lot of things never went smoothly for Small, a bureaucrat whose “work was soon badly in arrears.”(4) It must have been doubly aggravating for him, as the governor’s clerk and a permanent resident, that ownership and title for Town of York land grants often bogged down over conflicting claims—whose name was properly entered for which property by which surveyor or government official. Some lots, like Porter’s, had been allocated by surveyor Alexander Aitken before Simcoe requested surveyor David Smith to make another plan.

By 1805 Small was still trying to establish title to his desirable property whereon he had “his Cellar dug and the Frame for his House brought there 70 by 26 feet and the greatest part of it put together.”(5) Small stated Simcoe himself had initiated the delay for fear Small’s grand house would detract from the parliament building view. Actually, a government reserve had been declared early, perhaps another example of shifting survey boundaries, which may or may not have affected Small’s location. Nevertheless, apparently he eventually clarified his title and built his home.
Town of York, November 1813, from "Sketch of the Ground in Advance and including York, Upper Canada," by George Williams, Library and Archives Canada; as seen in The Town of York, 1793-1815 by Edith Firth, opposite p. lxxxi.

With trepidations from an amateur, some discrepancies are noted regarding site locations and other matters, although John Small was not my target interest and each and every known map of old York has not been investigated. I invite comments on the discrepancies.

Small’s home can be seen marked in teal (where I think it is) on the 1813 map of York. The location agrees with both Scadding(6) and Robertson(7), writing later in the nineteenth century, who say Small’s house was on King Street, i.e. facing King rather than Front. That makes sense if he modified his plan so as not to “interfere” with the Government House view. And also probably because Porter’s more modest house occupied a different part of the lot. By now it seems Small had acquired more than one lot in the First Block. But where exactly was Small’s stable, once George Porter’s house? Enquiring descendants would like to know.

Porter’s house could be any of the other buildings shown on the block, but (discrepancy) Firth says the log house was located on the southwest corner of King and Ontario Streets, which would place it in the Second Block.(8) Scadding provides information about Small’s original home, referring to a plan of the grounds.(9) I wonder where that “plan” is now, and what was its date?! The house had a “central portion and two-gable wings somewhat after the fashion of many an old country manor house in England. ... It was one of the earliest domestic erections in York [c. 1794]. When reconstructed at a subsequent period, Mr. Charles Small preserved, in the enlarged and elevated building now known as Berkeley House, the shape and even a portion of the inner substance of the original structure.” Charles Coxwell Small was a son of John Small. Scadding was a bit premature on his completion date (discrepancy), since Small was still facing a partially constructed building in December 1805.
Part of fold-out (1842) map in frontispiece of Toronto of Old by Henry Scadding.

So what we see on the 1842 map is a different outline of Small’s house (another discrepancy?)—it now appears to be set back from King Street. We can see the extensive orchards on the south side of Front Street where “Berkeley Castle” now stands. By then the son Charles had effected his renovations and presumably had acquired the water lot south of Front. John Small had a son and a grandson named Joseph Small, neither of whom was a mayor of Toronto (discrepancy) according to a List of Mayors of Toronto but some descendants did become involved in public service and politics. Landfill at the shoreline began in the 1830s and we can see here how the esplanade was being shaped south of the orchard. On the east, the parliament buildings have disappeared, having been burnt down in 1813 during the American invasion. The Small home was demolished in 1925.

My friend George Porter remained in York for a few years, attempting like so many others to acquire additional land grants like his more influential contemporaries. George disappeared suddenly in 1799, leaving a small family in his wake. And leaving scads of questions about his widow’s life after 1799 until about 1823 and where his children were in the interim! Now that’s what I call a mystery.

N.B. See an update on Small and Porter 

1. J.G. Chewett, “Plan of the Town of York, Corrected, 1827,”digital image, NMC 16819, University of Toronto Map & Data Library (http://prod.library.utoronto.ca:8090/maplib/digital/NMC16819.jpg : accessed 4 September 2009).
2. Christine Mosser, ed., York, Upper Canada, Minutes of Town Meetings and Lists of Inhabitants, 1793-1823 (Toronto: Metropolitan Library Board, 1984), 21.
3. Upper Canada Land Book F, pp. 359-361 (1805); Library and Archives Canada microfilm C-102. The entry includes copies of Small’s petitions in 1800 and 1801. Edith Firth in The Town of York 1793-1815 adds the details of the price.
4. S.R. Mealing, “John Small,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, Vol.VI, 1821-1835 (http://www.biographi.ca/ : accessed 6 March 2009).
5. Land Book F, pp. 359-361.
6. Henry Scadding, Chapter 6, "King Street: George Street to the Bridge and Across It," Toronto of Old (1873; reprint Toronto: Dundurn Press, 1987). pp 137-138. Also available on Google Books (http://books.google.ca/).
7. John Ross Robertson, Landmarks of Toronto, Vol. 3 (1898; reprint Belleville, ON: Mika Publishing, 1974), insert p. 95 and p. 96.
8. Edith Firth, The Town of York, 1793-1815 (Toronto: Champlain Society/University of Toronto Press, 1962), 223; citing Ridout Papers at Archives of Ontario.
9. Scadding, p. 138.

McFadyens Part 9: Footnotes and Fantasies

I know, I’m neglecting the Dougalls and Frasers. Best to concentrate on one project at a time, to get the maximum effort into the story and the mechanics. Strike while the iron’s hot. Stop delaying and dallying with dreamy thoughts that a visit to the Isle of Coll is in my future and will somehow fuse everything together. Just because I saw the McFadyen homestead in River Denys (Cape Breton), doesn’t mean I’ll find a heap of stones in Scotland where my ancestors once lived barefoot and ate turnips. It doesn’t mean I’ll have a huge epiphany or a sea change or something. As I understand it, tourists often fail to grasp local colloquialisms, so they miss the healthy humour of today’s Collachs.
Who, by some reports, tend to party away half the night. This is how they raise money for a new community centre so they can have bigger parties. I'd never get any rest if I went.
Photograph "Arinagour Sunrise," Welcome to Coll (http://www.visitcoll.co.uk/wallpapers.php?g=1&w=1024&h=768). This is what happy Collachs see on their way home after a successful ceilidh.

But I digress. This was supposed to be about my resolve to shape up my McFadyen family history (Ancestors and Descendants of Donald McFADYEN and Flory McLEAN from the Isle of Coll, Scotland, to River Denys, Nova Scotia). The cards are on the table and the iron is in the fire. I confess: I’m a manual, word-processing, do-it-yourself family history writer. The shaping up means checking every footnote, about 200 at last count, for proper standards and consistency. Elizabeth Shown Mills’ Evidence Explained is THE guide, not to mention her QuickSheets for citing online sources. A good footnote/citation checker will pay the greatest attention to each note in sequence. A not-so-good checker, like me, will get distracted by each note and start rummaging through files to see if I missed a nugget or go online to search/add more information or start bugging the relatives again. It gets painful when I find myself subscribing to more databases or waiting for new bits from phone calls and postal mail.

Discipline is absolutely necessary to stop the straying and go with what I’ve got. Otherwise, as all writers and historians know, the job will never end. We want to research, write and edit forever. And let me tell you, I acknowledge that 200 footnotes are a modest pittance compared to the ambitious projects I see other genealogists undertaking. Sigh. Will anyone in my family ever understand why I’m doing this the way I’m doing it?

Then I must check my genealogical numbering system, including all those superscript numbers and when they should be italic or not. My suspicion is that I may have mixed the Register system with the NGSQ system sometimes. You’d think I would have used Numbering Your Genealogy: Basic Systems, Complex Families and International Kin (authors Curran, Crane and Wray, Special Publication no. 64 from NGS, 1999) from the get-go, avoiding this retro situation. Well, this perfect booklet was published way after I’d started my constructing. Too late to wipe it out and start again from scratch.

You can take a car on the ferry from Oban to Coll, but why bother when you can rent a bicycle on an island measuring about 3 miles by 12 miles. I’m only seeking a driver from Edinburgh to Oban who won’t kill us driving on the wrong side of the road. Might as well keep the dream alive.

McFadyens Part 8: Some Answers

A recent trip to the main Vancouver Public Library on Georgia Street produced an answer about one of my McFadyens. What an architecturally stunning building! They thought of providing a café, a news agent, and a few other shops in the rotunda where serious readers can take a break, stretch their legs and fortify themselves. As my granddaughter-assistant and I munched on panini and wraps, we could observe carrels in use on the floors above. These glass fish bowls were pointed out for granddaughter's encouragement into the exciting world of learning, not to mention genealogy. Wouldn’t you know it? The most prominent corner featured a student busily sleeping on his stack of books. He probably created a slight dip in my curve as granny-the-educator. The only possible drawback in the whole experience might be this city’s curious lack of Tim Horton’s. Nevertheless, when in Rome, do as the Romans ...

My aforementioned (novice) assistant was forthwith plunged into the intricacies of correlating website printouts with microfilm numbers and proved herself adept at reading tiny print on 8mm film boxes. She also shined at quickly catching on to document numbers on the reels, and instantly catching the death date on each frame. I don’t know if this is a good way to train a new generation, but it worked for me.

One of my Hector McFadyens (oh yes, there’s more than one Hector, what did you expect?!) died in Kamloops, BC, in 1944. This Hector is a black-ish sheep and will have a separate post if I can ever uncover the last 20 years before his death. Maybe even if I can’t.

I’m grateful for some answers to my Questions in “McFadyens Part 7” thanks to fellow McFadyenite Ian Scott in OZ. Many interesting Coll projects have bloomed from Australia and are a boon to descendants around the world. Keith Dash maintains the twin websites, Isle of Coll Genealogy and Isle of Tiree Genealogy. Ian Scott is a big contributor to the transcribing and indexing projects on these sites. Not to take away from the many volunteers who also contribute, but these OZ guys have been particularly helpful and patient with me. I am at a disadvantage, probably lamented before, because I don’t have the microfilm parish register at hand.

My Q #1: Were the lists of babies and marriages in the Kirk Sessions then recorded in the Old Parish Register (OPR) for Coll & Tiree?
A: The Kirk Session entries, at least up to 1813, were copied into a (new) parish register at some point when legislation required it. The minister wrote in the parish (of Coll and Tiree) book:
"What is contained in this and fifty three preceding pages is a true copy of the Register of Marriages and baptisms for this part of the Parish of Tyree, being the period for Marriages from 23rd July 1776 to 1st June 1813 and for Baptisms from 14th April 1776 to 26th April 1813 inclusive, copied out in terms of the Act of Parliament, this Register being mixed up with Sessional matters."
Presumably from then on all baptisms and marriages were recorded in a parish book rather than Kirk Session minutes. Or both. Thank you, Ian Scott, for clarifying this.

My Q #2: Are Coll & Tiree OPRs actually included on the IGI (International Genealogical Index)?
A: The answer to this question follows from the above. Yes, we know the LDS microfilm crew did film all the Scotland OPRs. There must be a reason why I can’t find MY five alleged McFadyen baptisms on the IGI. I promise I will not continue this dithering unless some solution penetrates the fog.

Regarding the work of the wonderful OZ guys, on the same library trip we found a Hector from Tiree born about 1819 who died in BC. Oh that he would be mine, sigh, but I’ll get right on it and post it to the Tiree mail list. Let it be known that I consider OZ a term of affection, just in case it has any local unpleasant connotations I don’t know about.

August Break

The New Yorker, 11 May 2009; courtesy of a friend-subscriber.

(Maybe it was all the cholesterol I devoured a short time ago to celebrate a significant life milestone. Thanks, Barb. Now go hide yourself in France.)

Milestones seem to be hurtling by with no respect for the timing of my research plans, priorities, goals and daily task lists. I've heard there are genealogists who manage their time in a healthy balance of relationships, children, pets, and outside interests while still making progress on the family history or whatever their chosen way of volunteering information and education. Do the rest of us genie workaholics with tunnel vision need a life coach to smell the roses? Or a Dr. Phil consult?

Life milestones mean reviewing the priorities. One must review the priorities regularly. Mine have a sneaky habit of shifting before I know what’s up, something like the contrary milestones. In order to assume control and rectify my balance, I make lists for acting sociable and normal. Speak to my neighbours in the elevator. Go to meetings. See that movie. Stroll the yard sales. Attend parties. Dance at festivals. Ask strangers on the street for wi-fi spots. Invite someone for a glass of red wine. Cancel that if they have a smoke allergy. Make friends with people who think genealogy is a medical accident, ... if they ever think of it at all. To accomplish all this requires memorizing a short list of non-genealogy topics.

In the excitement of committing to healthy normal again, I propose to take time off and visit one of my offspring. Call it spending some time with the living instead of the dead. Give my Scottish correspondents a break. Truthfully, I try to make family visits on a regular basis, but as I said on Facebook, the closest is 1,264 km (785 miles) away. Canada’s east coast, west coast and Europe have to take their turns.

Therefore, no posts for a bit. Not that I’m known for over-activity in this medium. But I always have an ace up my sleeve to prove I’m not a myopic one-trick pony. The elephant in my room is the camel, to mix several metaphors. Good excuse for another photo. Full circle.



Camels in Petra, Jordan; photograph by Francine Mulherin, 2009.

McFadyens Part 7: The Coll Parish Questions

Those darn Collachs! Some of my frustrations are aired on FaceBook and mailing lists, but I might as well elucidate here. For the record. Notice I’ve included some views of Coll to relieve the monotony between questions. Linda Temple has sent some much appreciated photographs.

In 2007 I had drafted a 19-page McFadyen family history. Today it is over 40 pages, without intensive time spent on it. And that is not following every child of every child. It seems the more the miraculous Internet expands, the more there is to explore—so helpful when distant from the ancestral site. As I go through it to clean up my footnotes, every page presents opportunities for additions. Still, some of the resources at my disposal raise troubling genealogical questions.

Maybe this diversion to my blog will draw some answers. She said, wishfully. Being basically lazy, I hope for answers from those wiser in Scottish ways. Maybe I will have to blog more than once on these questions that painfully bog down the writing.

This year I received several pounds of paper copies of almost the entire Kirk Session minutes for the Isle of Coll. They have serious time gaps from 1733 and quite a few pages of illegible handwriting. The gaps can be explained historically. The incumbent minister, if there was one, had equal duties on the Isle of Tiree or elsewhere, depending on the time period. The handwriting, well ... we know paper was expensive in the olden days and those Presbyterians righteously crammed a lot onto one page.

Truthfully, I have reviewed every page. That’s obvious from the forest of sticky notes flopping off the top and sides of the pile. Have I done anything about it? Ummmm. The proper answer seems to be to create a chart or spreadsheet or database for all the McFadyen mentions. An attempt at family reconstructions. And why would I do that? The answer here must be because they are all more or less related at some historical point and MY people are mostly missing in those church minutes. Some of the others could be siblings of my Donald the Soldier, or even his parents’ generation.

The proceedings of the Kirk elders are liberally interspersed with lists of baptisms and marriages, albeit a few missing pages here and there in my copies, inexplicably. Among the actual minutes are copious references to illegitimate pregnancies, the result of criminal connexion, as the elders liked to say (often abbreviated as crim con which has a nice modern ring to it). Sometimes the guilty parties even agreed to marry, if they were not already married to someone else.

Q #1: Were these lists of babies or marriages in the Kirk Sessions then recorded in the Old Parish Register (OPR) for Coll & Tiree? Maybe the Kirk Session minutes are the only record of them? (Laziness raises its ugly head again; I could be cross-checking these from the wherewithal.)

Q #2: Are Coll & Tiree OPRs actually included on the IGI? I know they have been filmed by the LDS, and thanks to volunteers have been sorted and indexed on collgenealogy.com. Five of MY baptisms do appear on the latter, corresponding to patron submissions on the IGI, which also correspond to information sent to me by a local Coll historian in the early 1980s. But they are missing on the IGI extractions of parish registers (OPRs) regardless of every surname spelling I can come up with.

Next. The Presbyterian Short Catechism aka Westminster Catechism (1674) is important with regard to a complete list of the just under 1,000 inhabitants of Coll in 1776. The newly appointed clergyman visited every household and asked the questions of the faith to guage the local level of piety. His list is duly entered in the Kirk Session minutes.* I learned the catechism is instructional in nature, consisting of 107 questions (imagine what the long version must look like), being especially appropriate for youngsters and the illiterate.

In the 1776 record, adults have both first names and surnames. This applies to husbands and wives and adult children. Under-age children have first names only. Here is where I run into a bit of trouble. Most sources I’ve seen concur that under-age means under the age of seven years. Nevertheless I have a dissenting opinion, from a Coll local historian, that under-age refers to under twelve years of age.

Q #3: You saw it coming: does "under-age" mean children under seven or under twelve? Is there a reliable source to consult/cite?

Next. In that 1776 list, the wives are identified with their birth surnames according to Scottish custom. There are some widows whose households have only under-age children, i.e. the children are mentioned merely as first names.

Q #4: Do the widows bear the surname of their deceased spouse or their birth surname? The question has a direct impact on what surname those underage children were known by.

Four questions. I’m sure I’ll think of more.

* For those with no access to the Kirk Session minutes, the 1776 list is thankfully transcribed at collgenealogy.com.

Photographs:
Top: Coll parish church, Arinagour, Coll; Linda and John Temple.
Middle: Cemetery at Crossapol, Coll; Linda and John Temple.
Bottom: Traigh Hogh, Coll; by fishski at flickr.com.

Wordless Wednesday

Photographic credit as shown. Look carefully; it's not what you first think!

McFadyens Part 6

Luckily I inherited oodles of old family photographs. Some of them have notes on the back to say who they are. Some of them don’t, and we all know how bad that is. A lot of them were identified for me by parents or grandparents. But a few ancestral lines apparently avoided the photographer as much as they shied away from other kinds of informative records.

“John McFayden,” Winnipeg Free Press, Monday, 2 August 1915, p. 10, digital image, NewspaperARCHIVE (http://www.newspaperarchive.com : accessed 15 May 2009).

This is John McFadyen, my great-grandfather. I know it’s him because it says so right there in the newspaper—even though his name in the caption is McFayden. That’s a common alternate spelling although the pronunciation, to me, seems quite different. The clipping was sent to me ages ago by a well-meaning relative (and I thank you again!) but the newspaper was un-named. A Winnipeg paper was a good bet but how could I cite it? Then I splurged for a subscription to Newspaper Archive <http://www.newspaperarchive.com> because I knew they had Manitoba newspapers extending back into the nineteenth century. When you copy an article into your word-processing program, the OCR (optical character recognition) makes for some amusing “translation.”

John Hector McFadyen was born in Cape Breton in March of 1838, if we believe the 1911 census, and died 31 July 1915 at Oakbank, Manitoba. He came from a family of twelve children born to Hector McFadyen and his wife Jessie McKenzie of River Denys, Cape Breton. “John Hector” distinguished him from his slightly younger brother John Jr. aka “John Lauchlin,” not to be confused with their brother Lauchlin! (Highlanders had their reasons for same names in one family, obscure as they may be to us). Since most of the brothers were seamen, including my John, it’s something of a miracle he made it all the way to Manitoba to become a homestead farmer. Two other brothers drowned on the Grand Banks after he left. John sailed his own boat to Provincetown, Massachusetts, where he married and the first two children came along. By 1874 he was established on a quarter section of rich Manitoba soil at Oakbank, in what would become the Municipality of Springfield.

The two brothers called John, both long removed from the old family base in Cape Breton, were sometimes merged in reminiscences of the next generations. John Lauchie had apparently been smitten with gold fever and rarely visited home again, travelling to many foreign places. He did write letters, some saved by descendants of his youngest sister. And he probably sent photographs, now lost or unidentified. His last letter to Cape Breton came from Singapore on the Malay Peninsula, thus it was assumed he died there, although Sumatra was also mentioned.

John Hector’s obituary says he was survived by all ten children, five sons and five daughters. Little did they know that his youngest son Willie would die a year later in France with the 1st Canadian Mounted Rifles. His son Bob would die five years later in a house fire at Oakbank. That left three sons, none of whom had children—my McFadyen line “daughtered out” as we say. A couple of the surviving sons show promise of real live family black sheep (.. goody ..) for future posts.

I treasure that clipping—the ONLY picture I have of him. Someone, somewhere, once had the original photo. One of the daughters, no doubt.

Perfect Summers

The 5th edition of the Canadian Genealogy Carnival is all about favourite Canadian vacations. Where did your ancestors like to spend their summer holidays? Did your family enjoy a favourite beach or cottage? Or did your family travel from sea to shining sea? Photographs of these holiday places is encouraged.

When I was a kid, every summer was the favourite vacation. That’s because we left the city behind and drove fifteen miles to our camp for two months. In Northwestern Ontario what we call camps, you call cottages or cabins. Imagine driving only ten or fifteen miles to be in the bush on a lake. However, I’m speaking of a camp on the greatest lake of all, Lake Superior. Amethyst Harbour was the most magical of places for kids.

Our first camp was old before my parents bought it, before the Second World War! It had four bedrooms, a massive iron cook stove and no indoor plumbing. But we never spent much time inside. If we were lucky, the kids had the option of sleeping in a tent in the back yard. Our parents probably thought we actually slept! One night my dad’s friend, a few sheets to the wind as we used to say, broke his ankle tripping over our chamber pot.

The campers’ association hired a summer instructor for swimming, tennis, badminton and baseball. In fact, baseball became a highly competitive sport among teams along the shore. We had regular hikes to nearby areas for picnics and games ... McKenzie pool, McKenzie Falls and Wabang ... Run sheep run! Bonfires and wiener roasts were special events for staying up late. Evening fishing was usually a family event: you would see all the motor boats leaving their docks for the open water to slowly troll for trout. You could wave at your friends but you were supposed to be quiet and not scare the fish away. In those days, 30-pound lake trout were not uncommon.


Every year included a trip in the big boat to Nipigon Bay for the “world famous” Rossport Fish Derby. Being allowed to steer the boat and learn the charts were highlights, although you paid for it by swabbing the decks and polishing chrome.

Otherwise, kids were allowed to run mostly wild and barefoot. We knew every inch of the territory ... the beaches, the cliffs, the old amethyst mines and the surrounding forest. Every age group had a gang and a gaggle of bicycles for the fastest route between points A and B. We would take sleeping bags to deserted Lambert Island, watching incredible shooting stars and aurora borealis all night. We became proficient with our ever-present boats, sometimes venturing across Thunder Bay to lonely Caribou Island. Once, one of those unexpected Lake Superior storms came up before the boats could return. Terrified parents launched their bigger boats for search and rescue but all ended well. Those young lads knew their boats, alright, and they knew Lake Superior. To us, it was just part of the ever-exciting summer adventure.

We built a new camp with mod cons. As kids got older, cars began to replace the bicycles. Nevertheless, no matter what age we were, no-one wanted to miss the annual long-weekend sports days. Now, there are fifth and sixth generation campers returning each summer. Tuska the ancient fisherman is long gone. Lambert Island is populated. But Lake Superior never loses its seductive power and Amethyst Harbour retains its magic for every new generation of kids.


Family photographs, BDM collection.

Camels, Specifically Mongolian

I don’t know about you, but I need a regular camel fix, and it’s been a while. The biggest decision is which one in my growing photo collection to feature each time. There is the close-up of Zou-Zou my runaway camel, but that’s a whole story in itself. A certain cartoon I will save. And a friend sent me her photo of a very unusual baby, which really needs special background information if only I could read Arabic because English websites are not giving it up.

Mongolia is a hotspot for camels of the Bactrian variety. It’s also home to a large part of the Gobi Desert which explains a lot. Before people started mass printing of dumb slogans on T-shirts we used to have a joke about the Gobi Desert Canoe Club. Mongolians are probably still more traditionally tied to a nomadic life than their Bedouin counterparts in the Middle East. Camels are like their staff of life, a multi-tasking beast for transport, food, wool, leather and fuel (dried dung, for those of you have never crossed a cow pasture in the fall). There are deserts and then there are deserts. The Gobi can get very cold in winter.

The wild camel population in the Gobi diminished considerably during the last twenty-five years or so for various reasons—political mismanagement, demand for meat, parasites (I know, the last two do not sit well together). Finally a Wild Camel Protection Foundation was formed to establish protected areas and breeding programs. Thankfully the distinguished patrons are holding up their end with impressive contributions in GBP, since I don't seem to have much in the way of £ lying around.

Brenda has not been to Mongolia to investigate this situation. Yet. But I have a connection.


My daughter the yarn craft merchant was able to obtain “100% Mongolian camel down” through co-ops and agencies who market developing-world crafts ... so clever she is. The name of the wool spinner is right there. Daughter knew I needed a shawl in the office for winter chill and went to work on it. She added her own bits for colour. Some gifts are warm and priceless.

First two photographs courtesy of National Geographic Magazine (http://www.nationalgeographic.com/weepingcamel/thecamels.html). Third photograph BDM.