Lost and Found

During our nightly phone call, my mother mentioned a pitcher. She had taken it out of the attic, after decades there, and put it outside, and she reckoned she might go ahead and throw it away. No one’s gonna want that old broken pitcher.

As we talked, it came out that she had gotten that pitcher, the top already broken, after my dad’s grandparents died. They were out of town with the Navy, my parents, when Theodore Hahn and Maggie Cooper Hahn passed away, and, mom said, “Miz Hahn [my parents remained formal with their in-laws their whole lives] asked if there was anything I wanted from their house. The only thing I could think of that I would want was that pitcher from Germany. She told me the top was broken, but I wanted it anyway.”

Wait, what? A pitcher from Germany?

Sometime after my parents got together and before they left with the Navy, they were at the home of Theodore (Papa) and Maggie (Momo), and the pitcher was already broken, and she asked where it came from. Mama told me, “Momo said it had belonged to Papa’s father and it came from Germany.”

Y’all, I was incredulous. All my life I’ve been interested to know more about my mysterious ancestor from Germany, and now you’re telling me that all along you had this pitcher that belonged to my great-great grandfather and you didn’t think that I’d want it or be interested in it?!

“It’s been outside all winter,” my mom told me. “I don’t think it’s any more broken than it was.”

“I want it,” I said.

So, I picked it up, brought it home, examined it, washed it, examined it some more, and took pictures.

The top is, indeed broken, but possibly not any more broken than it was when my mom got it circa 1967. The glaze is crackled. It has a couple of pits that may be new, from the recent months outdoors, or may have occurred during the years it was in the attic enduring extreme hot in the summer and cold in the winter. There’s a ring on the bottom that has no glaze, and in a couple of areas on the sides the glaze is warn away. In some spots, when it catches the sun, the glaze is iridescent. It has no marks on it to indicate who made it or when or where.

Then I Googled. I found a couple of sales listings that pictured very similar pitchers. One called it “Antique Spongeware.” The other described it as “Roseville Cornelian Spongeware Majolica Blue Glaze.” Neither gave an estimate of when pitchers like this were made. Majolica is associated with Italy and Spain. Roseville Carnelian pottery is from Ohio, and the examples I see online look nothing like this pitcher.

I kept looking. Another seller on Etsy listed the pitcher the same way but with a brief description that says, “Circa 1900-1902. (Ref: Huxford, Second Series, pg. 39).” My local library doesn’t have the book in its collection or I’d check the citation and see if it’s really listed.

My great-grandfather William F. Hahn (1846-1907) could have acquired the pitcher in America before he died. Maybe Momo or my mom was confused between William Hahn coming from Germany and the pitcher coming from Germany. Did it perhaps remind him of something from his boyhood in Germany? Or are the sellers wrong about it being Roseville, and it was German in origin?

So many questions remain. Did William buy it or was it given to him? His wife died in 1897, so if it was made after 1900, she never used it. Did William use the pitcher for milk or lemonade or tea? Was the broken vase used as a pitcher for fresh flowers? Why was it important to Theodore?

My questions will never be answered, but still, as I held the pitcher, I thought about William F. Hahn more than 100 years ago, holding that pitcher in his hands, and felt a little closer to him.

#52Ancestors in 52 Weeks: Language

I often find myself thinking about the things I used to hear and say growing up that I don’t use now. My husband is from the Midwest and I work with mostly younger people from all over the country. It’s changed the way I talk. My language is also influenced by movies/TV/streaming.

One story I remember is how my mom said one of her Navy wife friends teased her when she asked if the friend could “carry me to the store.” The response was something like, “No, but I’ll drive you there.” When I was younger and living at home, I might have used ‘carry’ in that way. Now, I’m more inclined to ask if someone could give me a ride.

Knee high to a duck. Image created using Microsoft’s Copilot

In my youth, a conversation might begin, “I haven’t seen you in a coon’s age. You were just knee high to a duck.” Or perhaps you’d be knee high to a grasshopper.

Every once in a while, one of these old words or phrases will come to mind, and I’ll use it and get an odd look from my husband. I’ll explain it, and sometimes we’ll laugh about it.

I wish I had more recordings or had written down more of the way we talked back then* in the South.

It makes me wonder about words and phrases our ancestors may have used that are now lost forever.

*In the 1970s.

**Notes on the Images: I decided to try out Microsoft’s Copilot Designer, which lets you enter a text description and the software will generate a picture. I entered, “A farm-like setting with a small child standing next to a giant duck. The child’s head should be about even with the duck’s knee.” It took quite a while before delivering four images. In these two, I used the “customize” tool to resize the child, as Copilot made them chest high to the giant ducks.

Knee high to a duck. Image created using Microsoft’s Copilot

#52Ancestors: Changing Names

One of the most difficult ancestors for me to trace – because of her changing names – has been Mosella Elizabeth Thompson Pittman. Written like that, her name seems simple. When I was trying to track her husband and figure out her first and maiden name, it was a lot more complicated.

The first record I found for the mother of Molly Pittman Stevens was after Molly had married and moved out of the household. Molly brother had the helpfully unusual first name of Medrick, so I searched for him and found him living with his mother, E. Pittman. That was in the 1920 Census.

As I found them, the 1880 and 1910 Censuses gave her name as Elizabeth Pittman. The 1911 death certificate for her son also gives her name as Elizabeth.

In the 1870 Census, she was Betty Thompson.

Her marriage record in 1880 and the 1900 Census both recorded her name as Mosella E.

A birth registration from 1890 gives her name as Marcela E. That’s a transcription; I have not seen the original. Similarly, a court document related to property, filed in 1977 (!) gives her name as Marcella Pittman – again, a transcription.

Only a 1924 death certificate gives her full name – Mosella Elizabeth Pittman.

The first name is mangled a bit, but this document finally puts my 2nd great-grandmother’s various incarnations together in one place.

Adding to the confusion, her dad’s name was Origen Thompson, sometimes recorded as Ory or Ira, and her husband Isaac’s age and birthplace changed on a couple of censuses.

I was finally able to pull it all together, but I questioned myself several times before I finally accepted that all these documents were, in fact, the same person.

#52Ancestors in 52 Weeks: Heirlooms

On the mantle is a hurricane lamp, one of many my mam-ma Willie Cook collected. This photo of my uncle was taken at a Christmas gathering, probably in the 1990s. That’s my dad in the mirror right over my uncle’s shoulder.

My mother is in possession of many family heirlooms. She has a china cabinet that belonged to her grandmother Mollie Pittman Stevens, and several collections that belonged to her mother, Willie Stevens Cook. At some point, I will have to get with my cousins and see who wants what, as I won’t have room for everything. I would like for as much as possible to stay in the family.

I have dishes that belonged to Willie Cook, but I can’t take a picture as they’re all packed away. They are from Japan and feature a pine cone pattern. It’s a huge set with a lot of specialty serving dishes, although I know at least a couple of pieces have gotten broken. How we came to have these dishes is a family story. My dad’s uncle was stationed in Japan with the military after World War II. Willie and my mom, Zenova, sent him the money to buy dishes and he shipped them back. My mom’s set had a maple leaf pattern, but sadly my mom had to leave them behind when my dad went into the Navy. Someone broke into the house and stole them. She has, I think, one piece that she had taken with her to Spain to remember the set.

#52Ancestors in 52 Weeks: Immigration

I only know one of my immigrant ancestors and I’ve written about him (William F. Hahn) quite a bit, so this week I turn to my husband’s family.

His grandmother Helen Schiesl, came to the U.S. from Germany in 1907. This is not her story.

The S.S. Pretoria (Photo from Library of Congress via Wikipedia)

Recently, I was looking at Tim’s mother’s DNA matches, and I noticed one I had not seen before. The name was familiar, though, as his daughter and his niece (I believe) have also tested. Each of the girls had one visible name in their trees, and from there, I began building a tree for the family. Several generations back, I found our family connection: Anna Brummer.

Helen Schiesl’s mother’s name was Theresa Brummer.

Anna Brummer was born in Germany, circa 1881, according to the 1910 Census. She is listed as the widowed Anna Moerlins, with two children Mathew and John Moerlins. The information I found did not include her parents’ names or her birthdate. I decided to search the passenger records on Ancestry to see if I could find when she immigrated.

Nothing came up under Anna Brummer, so I thought I’d check her married name, in case she married overseas. I didn’t find her traveling as a new bride, but I did find where she and her two sons were returning from a trip to Germany. They’re all listed in the section of the manifest reserved for American citizens.

August is going to his mother ____ Meyer and traveling with his aunt.

On a hunch, I searched for Brummer under the alien passengers and found August Brummer, age 10. The manifest records that he had been living with his grandfather -indexed as Hatt Brummer – in München and was joining his mother in the United States. I recognized the name of the ship they were on, the S.S. Pretoria, as the same ship Helen sailed on to America.

Next, I looked for August Brummer on FamilySearch, and I soon realized that I had already created a profile for him as the spouse of Helen Schmidt – a woman I knew as Lena Brummer, from photos in my mother-in-law’s collection. His parents are William Brummer and Gretchen Meyer.

It took looking at the records again – and Helen’s profile on FamilySearch – just now for me to realize that Helen didn’t just sail on the same ship, she sailed at the same time! Helen, Anna, and August – all on the same ship bound for the U.S. Helen has given a different person that she’s going to be staying with, and I never thought to look for any other travelers in her family.

I still don’t know exactly how everyone is related. Anna could be Helen’s aunt or her cousin. August could be her uncle or her cousin. One photo I have of Lena is with “Uncle Max” Brummer; I presume he’s the brother of Theresa Brummer.

August had been living with his grandfather.

Looking at the passenger list and its incredibly dense writing, I believe Hatt Brummer is really Matt Brummer. Matthias and Matthew seem to be popular names in that family.

I’m getting so close to putting this family back together and perhaps making progress back another generation or two.

#52Ancestors in 52 Weeks: Earning a Living

Genealogical research means learning new things about ancestors and family members that you thought you knew pretty well.

My dad’s dad, Papa Hahn, aka Charles Theodore Hahn, worked at St. Regis Paper Mill in Cantonment, Escambia County, Florida. In my mind, that was his lifelong career. I don’t know that I ever asked what other jobs he had in his life. Looking at U.S. Census Records filled me in.

Malzie Elizabeth Silcox Hahn (Grandma) and Charles Theodore Hahn (Papa)

In 1930, when he was 16 years old, Charlie’s entry gives “none” in the occupation line. That was unexpected. A later census indicates that he only finished sixth grade, and I thought that if he quit school he would have been working. I was also surprised by the entry for his dad, Theodore, whose entry says he’s a gardener in the landscape industry; I thought he was a farmer. I don’t think Charlie was sitting around listing to the radio or hanging out at the beach all day in 1930; I imagine that if his dad worked outside the home, Charlie was doing a lot of man’s work around the house. He may also have been between jobs or otherwise looking for work.

The 1935 Florida Census lists the occupation for Charlie and his dad as “Dairyman.” I remember being told that my dad worked for a dairy farmer, helping milk cows, while he was in high school. I wonder if he worked for the same dairy that once employed his dad.

In 1940, the federal census gives Charlie’s occupation as laborer in the road construction industry. I wonder what roads he helped to build?

The Florida Census in 1945 lists Charlie’s occupation as “Tr Driver” which I interpret as being truck driver. One of my uncles was driving a truck just a few years ago, when he had some trouble on the road and was diagnosed with a brain tumor. I wonder what kind of truck he drove and what company employed him.

Finally on the 1950 Census, when he is 36 years old, Charlie is identified as a Machine Savall Operator at St. Regis. I’m not actually sure what that middle word is. Can you make it out? (see update below)

Charlie and Malzie got married in December 1933, when Charlie was 20 years old, and my dad came along the following December. What I do know is, Papa Hahn always worked hard to provide a good life for his family.

All these state and federal census records are available to search for free on the FamilySearch website.

I dropped the ball on #52Ancestors last week. The topic was Influencer, and I couldn’t think of anything that I hadn’t already written about. I had told myself that if I couldn’t write about the topic, I’d just write something, anything, about an ancestor, but I didn’t. I’ll try to do better going forward.

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UPDATE: Mrs. N. on BlueSky and Eilene Lyon here on WordPress both solved my mystery. They sent me information on Save-all machines, which are designed to remove fiber and other solids from white water so the clarified water and solids can be re-used. I don’t know why Google didn’t show me anything useful when I searched for “savall paper mill” but these two ladies kindly dug deeper and shared their findings, so I could better understand my Papa’s job. Thank you, both!!

#52Ancestors in 52 Weeks: Witness to History

We all witness history in some way. Not everyone is present in person for historic events, but we learn of it from other people or the news media. We may be personally affected by developments such as the introduction of personal computers and internet into the home.

For this week’s challenge, I have decided to focus on a pair of paternal 4th great grandparents, Lewis Jordan or Jurdan Cooper and Frances Jane Cumbaa. They were, according to U.S. Census records, both born in South Carolina, Lewis in around 1798 and Frances around 1811.

The earliest record found for them, so far, is their marriage record. The license was issued on 24 March 1829 in Thomas County, Georgia, and they were married the following day.

Thomas County was formed in 1825. It’s in Southwest Georgia, north northeast of Tallahassee, Florida. We don’t know if Lewis and Jane were there for celebrations of the new county. They had several children in Thomas County, including my third great-grandfather, their oldest son John Jordan or Jurdan Cooper.

Census records indicate that their tenth child, Michael Washington Cooper was born around 1849 in Florida, just four years after Florida became a state. We may never know if the family traveled the 225 miles to Pensacola to watch the gala ceremonies of statehood. Certainly it would have been a difficult journey, but it would have been a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

By the time Lewis and Jane’s 11th child, William Jefferson Cooper, came along, circa 1852, the family was in Baldwin County, Alabama. Their final known child was Frank J. Cooper, born circa 1859. A year later, Lewis Jordan Cooper would die. Frances would follow in 1888.

Their graves are unmarked, but they’re believed to be interred in a plot surrounded by a low stone wall. Many other Cooper children and grandchildren are buried near that plot in Old Cooper Cemetery in Rosinton, Baldwin County, Alabama.

Lewis saw the United States grow by 17 states in his lifetime. For Frances Jane, that number is 21.

Lewis was a farmer, and he certainly saw many innovations in agriculture during his lifetime. The invention of the reaper and other mechanical tools may have made his and his sons’ lives easier. During Lewis and Jane’s lifetimes, rail travel made getting around some parts of the south a lot easier. Lewis died before the Civil War, but Jane saw several of her sons go to war.

My mother has trouble with the computer sometimes, and she laments that things were simpler in the days of her parents and grandparents. I remind her, technology moves fast for every generation. All our ancestors saw incredible changes and had to learn new ways of doing things. We cannot imagine what the future will bring.

#52Ancestors in 52 Weeks: Favorite Photo

This prompt comes around every year, giving me a great excuse to look back through the images I have scanned over the past few years. Today, I share several photos in a series. My mom copied them from an album that belonged to my paternal grandmother Malzie Elizabeth Silcox Hahn. They were take in November 1990, I believe it was probably Thanksgiving. As families do when they get together, someone had the siblings and parents stand together for a picture. I believe they’re standing outside Papa and Grandma’s house in Beulah, Escambia County. I was living in South Florida at the time, so I wasn’t there to have any idea what got them tickled.

Left to right, Tony, Sidney (the family called him Marty), Mickey, Steve, Betty, and my dad, William D. “Bill” Hahn.

My dad always wore hats – sometimes a ball cap, sometimes a cowboy hat. Having just had a skin cancer removed from my nose, I can understand the wisdom of those hats, especially since my dad was balding for most of my life.

I don’t think it was this particular cowboy hat, but he had one, back in the ’70s, with a hatband to which he affixed small squares of Plexiglas mirrors in different colors. They were tilted, like diamonds, and would sparkle in the sunlight.

It’s so interesting to see my dad in his leather jacket, Aunt Betty in her sweater, and the others in short sleeves. Perhaps they thought they’d only be outside for a few minutes, so why bother putting on something warmer.

I don’t know if anyone ever managed to get a picture with all of them looking clearly at the camera. These are the only ones I have in the series. It’s such a joy to see everyone smiling and having a good time. As I write this, only my Uncle Tony and Aunt Betty are still with us. I like that future generations will have candid photos like this to see the personalities of their family shine through.

(L-R) Dennis Anthony “Tony” Hahn; Elizabeth “Betty” Hahn Carter; Sidney Marshal “Marty” Hahn; Malzie Elizabeth Silcox Hahn; Charles Stephen “Steve” Hahn; William David “Bill” Hahn; Gordon Michael “Mickey” Hahn; Charles Theodore Hahn (barely visible)

Back Row: Tony, Marty, Steve, Mickey. Front Row: Betty, Malzie “Grandma”, Bill, and Charlie “Papa”.

(L-R) Dennis Anthony “Tony” Hahn; Elizabeth “Betty” Hahn Carter; Sidney Marshal “Marty” Hahn; Malzie Elizabeth Silcox Hahn; Charles Stephen “Steve” Hahn; William David “Bill” Hahn; Gordon Michael “Mickey” Hahn

#52Ancestors in 52 Weeks: Origins

The origins of my maternal line are shrouded in the mists of time. Family historians know, it can be difficult to track females. Women usually change their names when they get married, they’re not always named in documents, and some U.S. Census enumerators either didn’t think it important to ask the women’s first names or were too embarrassed that they’d be considered disrespectful.

My 4x Great Grandmother Docia/Doshia/Dotia/Theodosie changed her last name twice. I found the second marriage record, where Mrs. Dotia Rik– (the last name was inside the fold of the book) married Jacob Thompson, but I believe Rikard (or sometimes Rickard) was the name of her first husband.

Last year, I somehow made the connection of Docia’s daughter Mary Ann Rikard to Mary Ann Rackard, who married Andrew Carlisle in 1866 in Escambia County, Florida. I can’t remember exactly how it started. It may have been an Ancestry tree, but I started taking a closer look at the records, and I was confident I was on the right track when I realized that Mary Ann and Andrew Carlisle were living right next door to Theodosie and her son Samuel (last name enumerated as Raccord) according to the 1870 Census.

Then I spent a couple of hours untangling that Andrew and Mary from another Andrew and Mary who lived a little farther north in Alabama. This was on FamilySearch, by the way.

I have not found any DNA matches descended from that couple, although I always have hope. I haven’t finished the descendancy work on their branch. I did however look for and find some other Rikard/Rackard-related matches. Interestingly, they all lead back to Laurence Rikard (1786-abt 1806).

This made little bells go “ding, ding, ding” in my head, because according to my cousin’s notes from a family Bible, Docia’s daughter, my 3rd Great Grandmother’s full name is Elizabeth Lawrence Rikard. I knew that name had to be important – either her unknown father’s first name or a family name in Docia’s line. Several of Laurence Rikard’s sons, grandsons, et.al, are named Lawrence.

Of course, I’m trusting that the tree work on this line is correct. Laurence doesn’t have any real sources attached, just a single reference to an old family tree.

Docia sometimes uses the middle initial P, and some family trees (unsourced, of course) suggest that her maiden name was Pittman. This is interesting, because I have Pittmans on another of my maternal lines. I know there are other Pittman families in Northwest Florida and South Alabama, who I have not been able to connect to my Pittmans, either through paper documentation or DNA.

#52Ancestors in 52 Weeks: Family Lore

For a New Year’s post, the topic of “Family Lore” brings to mind the tradition of eating black-eyed peas on the first day of the year. My pap-pa (maternal grandfather Hoyt Cook) always said that for every black-eyed pea you ate on New Year’s Day, you’d earn a dollar in the coming year. For a little kid growing up in the 1970s, a few bowls of peas would equal a small fortune.

December 31, 2022, I cooked a package of dry beans with a ham bone. This year, I’m opening a couple of cans, instead.

I wish I knew more about how far back the tradition goes in our family. I’ve just been browsing through Google search results about eating black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day, and it appears the idea dates back many centuries. Some articles say it’s a Jewish tradition. Other reports say it stems from the beliefs of Africans brought to the U.S. in bondage. Today, I look at the small amounts of African DNA in my profile and wonder if my black ancestors introduced the tradition into my bloodline.

Some families throw a dime into the pot; we never did that. Some serve with collard greens; my family tended towards turnip greens, and I tended to pass by that pot on the table. Hoppin’ John – black-eyed peas with rice – is said to be based on African recipes. Southern Living magazine (via the Atlanta Journal Constitution) says serving peas with cornbread or tomatoes is also supposed to bring good fortune.

Photo taken before I was born during a family gathering at the home of Hoyt Cook’s mother, Dollie Allison Cook, Walnut Hill, Escambia County, Florida.

The dawn of a new year is certainly a time for positivity, for hope, for planning ahead. It’s fun to think that eating special foods can bring luck and prosperity. During my childhood, New Year’s wasn’t always a day for family gatherings; we were often away from home with my dad’s military service. When we were in Pensacola, it was such fun to go to a grandparents’ home, play with the cousins, and eat lots of good food. Boy, I could pack it away back then and not have to worry about gaining weight!

Today, carrying on that tradition of eating black-eyed peas provides a connection with my past and my family, and it’s still exciting to think that each bite could be contributing to financial success. Hmmm. How many peas would I need to eat to win the lottery?!

I dropped the ball on the #52Ancestors project in 2023, but I’ll begin anew with a resolution to do better in 2024. Part of the issue in 2023 is that I feel I’ve written bunches about the relatives I know and the brick walls I’m working on. I will try to be more creative this year as I discuss more unknown ancestors on the tree.