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  • #6259
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      George “Mike” Rushby

      A short autobiography of George Gilman Rushby’s son, published in the Blackwall Bugle, Australia.

      Early in 2009, Ballina Shire Council Strategic and
      Community Services Group Manager, Steve Barnier,
      suggested that it would be a good idea for the Wardell
      and District community to put out a bi-monthly
      newsletter. I put my hand up to edit the publication and
      since then, over 50 issues of “The Blackwall Bugle”
      have been produced, encouraged by Ballina Shire
      Council who host the newsletter on their website.
      Because I usually write the stories that other people
      generously share with me, I have been asked by several
      community members to let them know who I am. Here is
      my attempt to let you know!

      My father, George Gilman Rushby was born in England
      in 1900. An Electrician, he migrated to Africa as a young
      man to hunt and to prospect for gold. He met Eleanor
      Dunbar Leslie who was a high school teacher in Cape
      Town. They later married in Dar es Salaam, Tanganyika.
      I was the second child and first son and was born in a
      mud hut in Tanganyika in 1933. I spent my first years on
      a coffee plantation. When four years old, and with
      parents and elder sister on a remote goldfield, I caught
      typhoid fever. I was seriously ill and had no access to
      proper medical facilities. My paternal grandmother
      sailed out to Africa from England on a steam ship and
      took me back to England for medical treatment. My
      sister Ann came too. Then Adolf Hitler started WWII and
      Ann and I were separated from our parents for 9 years.

      Sister Ann and I were not to see him or our mother for
      nine years because of the war. Dad served as a Captain in
      the King’s African Rifles operating in the North African
      desert, while our Mum managed the coffee plantation at
      home in Tanganyika.

      Ann and I lived with our Grandmother and went to
      school in Nottingham England. In 1946 the family was
      reunited. We lived in Mbeya in Southern Tanganyika
      where my father was then the District Manager of the
      National Parks and Wildlife Authority. There was no
      high school in Tanganyika so I had to go to school in
      Nairobi, Kenya. It took five days travelling each way by
      train and bus including two days on a steamer crossing
      Lake Victoria.

      However, the school year was only two terms with long
      holidays in between.

      When I was seventeen, I left high school. There was
      then no university in East Africa. There was no work
      around as Tanganyika was about to become
      independent of the British Empire and become
      Tanzania. Consequently jobs were reserved for
      Africans.

      A war had broken out in Korea. I took a day off from
      high school and visited the British Army headquarters
      in Nairobi. I signed up for military service intending to
      go to Korea. The army flew me to England. During
      Army basic training I was nicknamed ‘Mike’ and have
      been called Mike ever since. I never got to Korea!
      After my basic training I volunteered for the Parachute
      Regiment and the army sent me to Egypt where the
      Suez Canal was under threat. I carried out parachute
      operations in the Sinai Desert and in Cyprus and
      Jordan. I was then selected for officer training and was
      sent to England to the Eaton Hall Officer Cadet School
      in Cheshire. Whilst in Cheshire, I met my future wife
      Jeanette. I graduated as a Second Lieutenant in the
      Royal Lincolnshire Regiment and was posted to West
      Berlin, which was then one hundred miles behind the
      Iron Curtain. My duties included patrolling the
      demarcation line that separated the allies from the
      Russian forces. The Berlin Wall was yet to be built. I
      also did occasional duty as guard commander of the
      guard at Spandau Prison where Adolf Hitler’s deputy
      Rudolf Hess was the only prisoner.

      From Berlin, my Regiment was sent to Malaya to
      undertake deep jungle operations against communist
      terrorists that were attempting to overthrow the
      Malayan Government. I was then a Lieutenant in
      command of a platoon of about 40 men which would go
      into the jungle for three weeks to a month with only air
      re-supply to keep us going. On completion of my jungle
      service, I returned to England and married Jeanette. I
      had to stand up throughout the church wedding
      ceremony because I had damaged my right knee in a
      competitive cross-country motorcycle race and wore a
      splint and restrictive bandage for the occasion!
      At this point I took a career change and transferred
      from the infantry to the Royal Military Police. I was in
      charge of the security of British, French and American
      troops using the autobahn link from West Germany to
      the isolated Berlin. Whilst in Germany and Austria I
      took up snow skiing as a sport.

      Jeanette and I seemed to attract unusual little
      adventures along the way — each adventure trivial in
      itself but adding up to give us a ‘different’ path through
      life. Having climbed Mount Snowdon up the ‘easy way’
      we were witness to a serious climbing accident where a
      member of the staff of a Cunard Shipping Line
      expedition fell and suffered serious injury. It was
      Sunday a long time ago. The funicular railway was
      closed. There was no telephone. So I ran all the way
      down Mount Snowdon to raise the alarm.

      On a road trip from Verden in Germany to Berlin with
      our old Opel Kapitan motor car stacked to the roof with
      all our worldly possessions, we broke down on the ice and snow covered autobahn. We still had a hundred kilometres to go.

      A motorcycle patrolman flagged down a B-Double
      tanker. He hooked us to the tanker with a very short tow
      cable and off we went. The truck driver couldn’t see us
      because we were too close and his truck threw up a
      constant deluge of ice and snow so we couldn’t see
      anyway. We survived the hundred kilometre ‘sleigh
      ride!’

      I then went back to the other side of the world where I
      carried out military police duties in Singapore and
      Malaya for three years. I took up scuba diving and
      loved the ocean. Jeanette and I, with our two little
      daughters, took a holiday to South Africa to see my
      parents. We sailed on a ship of the Holland-Afrika Line.
      It broke down for four days and drifted uncontrollably
      in dangerous waters off the Skeleton Coast of Namibia
      until the crew could get the ship’s motor running again.
      Then, in Cape Town, we were walking the beach near
      Hermanus with my youngest brother and my parents,
      when we found the dead body of a man who had thrown
      himself off a cliff. The police came and secured the site.
      Back with the army, I was promoted to Major and
      appointed Provost Marshal of the ACE Mobile Force
      (Allied Command Europe) with dual headquarters in
      Salisbury, England and Heidelberg, Germany. The cold
      war was at its height and I was on operations in Greece,
      Denmark and Norway including the Arctic. I had
      Norwegian, Danish, Italian and American troops in my
      unit and I was then also the Winter Warfare Instructor
      for the British contingent to the Allied Command
      Europe Mobile Force that operated north of the Arctic
      Circle.

      The reason for being in the Arctic Circle? From there
      our special forces could look down into northern
      Russia.

      I was not seeing much of my two young daughters. A
      desk job was looming my way and I decided to leave
      the army and migrate to Australia. Why Australia?
      Well, I didn’t want to go back to Africa, which
      seemed politically unstable and the people I most
      liked working with in the army, were the Australian
      troops I had met in Malaya.

      I migrated to Brisbane, Australia in 1970 and started
      working for Woolworths. After management training,
      I worked at Garden City and Brookside then became
      the manager in turn of Woolworths stores at
      Paddington, George Street and Redcliff. I was also the
      first Director of FAUI Queensland (The Federation of
      Underwater Diving Instructors) and spent my spare
      time on the Great Barrier Reef. After 8 years with
      Woollies, I opted for a sea change.

      I moved with my family to Evans Head where I
      converted a convenience store into a mini
      supermarket. When IGA moved into town, I decided
      to take up beef cattle farming and bought a cattle
      property at Collins Creek Kyogle in 1990. I loved
      everything about the farm — the Charolais cattle, my
      horses, my kelpie dogs, the open air, fresh water
      creek, the freedom, the lifestyle. I also became a
      volunteer fire fighter with the Green Pigeon Brigade.
      In 2004 I sold our farm and moved to Wardell.
      My wife Jeanette and I have been married for 60 years
      and are now retired. We have two lovely married
      daughters and three fine grandchildren. We live in the
      greatest part of the world where we have been warmly
      welcomed by the Wardell community and by the
      Wardell Brigade of the Rural Fire Service. We are
      very happy here.

      Mike Rushby

      A short article sent to Jacksdale in England from Mike Rushby in Australia:

      Rushby Family

      #6258
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        The Buxton Marshalls

        and the DNA Match

        Several years before I started researching the family tree, a friend treated me to a DNA test just for fun. The ethnicity estimates were surprising (and still don’t make much sense): I am apparently 58% Scandinavian, 37% English, and a little Iberian, North African, and even a bit Nigerian! My ancestry according to genealogical research is almost 100% Midlands English for the past three hundred years.

        Not long after doing the DNA test, I was contacted via the website by Jim Perkins, who had noticed my Marshall name on the DNA match. Jim’s grandfather was James Marshall, my great grandfather William Marshall’s brother. Jim told me he had done his family tree years before the advent of online genealogy. Jim didn’t have a photo of James, but we had several photos with “William Marshall’s brother” written on the back.

        Jim sent me a photo of his uncle, the man he was named after. The photo shows Charles James Marshall in his army uniform. He escaped Dunkirk in 1940 by swimming out to a destroyer, apparently an excellent swimmer. Sadly he was killed, aged 25 and unmarried, on Sep 2 1942 at the Battle of Alma-Halfa in North Africa. Jim was born exactly one year later.

        Jim and I became friends on Facebook. In 2021 a relative kindly informed me that Jim had died. I’ve since been in contact with his sister Marilyn.  Jim’s grandfather James Marshall was the eldest of John and Emma’s children, born in 1873. James daughter with his first wife Martha, Hilda, married James Perkins, Jim and Marilyn’s parents. Charles James Marshall who died in North Africa was James son by a second marriage.  James was a railway engine fireman on the 1911 census, and a retired rail driver on the 1939 census.

        Charles James Marshall 1917-1942 died at the Battle of Alma-Halfa in North Africa:

        photo thanks to Jim Perkins

        Charles James Marshall

         

        Anna Marshall, born in 1875, was a dressmaker and never married. She was still living with her parents John and Emma in Buxton on the 1921 census. One the 1939 census she was still single at the age of 66, and was living with John J Marshall born 1916. Perhaps a nephew?

        Annie Marshall 1939

         

        John Marshall was born in 1877. Buxton is a spa town with many hotels, and John was the 2nd porter living in at the Crescent Hotel on the 1901 census, although he married later that year. In the 1911 census John was married with three children and living in Fairfield, Buxton, and his occupation was Hotel Porter and Boots.  John and Alice had four children, although one son died in infancy, leaving two sons and a daughter, Lily.

        My great grandfather William Marshall was born in 1878, and Edward Marshall was born in 1880. According to the family stories, one of William’s brothers was chief of police in Lincolnshire, and two of the family photos say on the back “Frank Marshall, chief of police Lincolnshire”. But it wasn’t Frank, it was Edward, and it wasn’t Lincolnshire, it was Lancashire.

        The records show that Edward Marshall was a hotel porter at the Pulteney Hotel in Bath, Somerset, in 1901. Presumably he started working in hotels in Buxton prior to that. James married Florence in Bath in 1903, and their first four children were born in Bath. By 1911 the family were living in Salmesbury, near Blackburn Lancashire, and Edward was a police constable. On the 1939 census, James was a retired police inspector, still living in Lancashire. Florence and Edward had eight children.

        It became clear that the two photographs we have that were labeled “Frank Marshall Chief of police” were in fact Edward, when I noticed that both photos were taken by a photographer in Bath. They were correctly labeled as the policeman, but we had the name wrong.

        Edward and Florence Marshall, Bath, Somerset:

        Edward Marshall, Bath

         

        Sarah Marshall was born in 1882 and died two years later.

        Nellie Marshall was born in 1885 and I have not yet found a marriage or death for her.

        Harry Marshall was John and Emma’s next child, born in 1887. On the 1911 census Harry is 24 years old, and  lives at home with his parents and sister Ann. His occupation is a barman in a hotel. I haven’t yet found any further records for Harry.

        Frank Marshall was the youngest, born in 1889. In 1911 Frank was living at the George Hotel in Buxton, employed as a boot boy. Also listed as live in staff at the hotel was Lily Moss, a kitchenmaid.

        Frank Marshall

        In 1913 Frank and Lily were married, and in 1914 their first child Millicent Rose was born. On the 1921 census Frank, Lily, William Rose and one other (presumably Millicent Rose) were living in Hartington Upper Quarter, Buxton.

        The George Hotel, Buxton:

        George Hotel Buxton

         

        One of the photos says on the back “Jack Marshall, brother of William Marshall, WW1”:

        Jack Marshall

        Another photo that says on the back “William Marshalls brother”:

        WM brother 1

        Another “William Marshalls brother”:

        WM b 2

        And another “William Marshalls brother”:

        wm b 3

        Unlabeled but clearly a Marshall:

        wmb 4

        The last photo is clearly a Marshall, but I haven’t yet found a Burnley connection with any of the Marshall brothers.

        #6254
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          The Gladstone Connection

          My grandmother had said that we were distantly related to Gladstone the prime minister. Apparently Grandma’s mothers aunt had a neice that was related to him, or some combination of aunts and nieces on the Gretton side. I had not yet explored all the potential great grandmothers aunt’s nieces looking for this Gladstone connection, but I accidentally found a Gladstone on the tree on the Gretton side.

          I was wandering around randomly looking at the hints for other people that had my grandparents in their trees to see who they were and how they were connected, and noted a couple of photos of Orgills. Richard Gretton, grandma’s mother Florence Nightingale Gretton’s father,  married Sarah Orgill. Sarah’s brother John Orgill married Elizabeth Mary Gladstone. It was the photographs that caught my eye, but then I saw the Gladstone name, and that she was born in Liverpool. Her father was William Gladstone born 1809 in Liverpool, just like the prime minister. And his father was John Gladstone, just like the prime minister.

          But the William Gladstone in our family tree was a millwright, who emigrated to Australia with his wife and two children rather late in life at the age of 54, in 1863. He died three years later when he was thrown out of a cart in 1866. This was clearly not William Gladstone the prime minister.

          John Orgill emigrated to Australia in 1865, and married Elizabeth Mary Gladstone in Victoria in 1870. Their first child was born in December that year, in Dandenong. Their three sons all have the middle name Gladstone.

          John Orgill 1835-1911 (Florence Nightingale Gretton’s mothers brother)

          John Orgill

          Elizabeth Mary Gladstone 1845-1926

          Elizabeth Mary Gladstone

           

          I did not think that the link to Gladstone the prime minister was true, until I found an article in the Australian newspapers while researching the family of John Orgill for the Australia chapter.

          In the Letters to the Editor in The Argus, a Melbourne newspaper, dated 8 November 1921:

          Gladstone

           

          THE GLADSTONE FAMILY.
          TO THE EDITOR OF THE ARGUS.
          Sir,—I notice to-day a reference to the
          death of Mr. Robert Gladstone, late of
          Wooltonvale. Liverpool, who, together
          with estate in England valued at £143,079,
          is reported to have left to his children
          (five sons and seven daughters) estate
          valued at £4,300 in Victoria. It may be
          of interest to some of your readers to
          know that this Robert Gladstone was a
          son of the Gladstone family to which
          the Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone, the
          famous Prime Minister, belonged, some
          members of which are now resident in Aus-
          tralia. Robert Gladstone’s father (W. E.
          Gladstone’s cousin), Stuart Gladstone, of
          Liverpool, owned at one time the estates
          of Noorat and Glenormiston, in Victoria,
          to which he sent Neil Black as manager.
          Mr. Black, who afterwards acquired the
          property, called one of his sons “Stuart
          Gladstone” after his employer. A nephew
          of Stuart Gladstone (and cousin of
          Robert Gladstone, of Wooltonvale), Robert
          Cottingham, by name “Bobbie” came out
          to Australia to farm at Noorat, but was
          killed in a horse accident when only 21,
          and was the first to be buried in the new
          cemetery at Noorat. A brother, of “Bob-
          bie,” “Fred” by name, was well known
          in the early eighties as an overland
          drover, taking stock for C. B. Fisher to
          the far north. Later on he married and
          settled in Melbourne, but left during the
          depressing time following the bursting of
          the boom, to return to Queensland, where,
          in all probability, he still resides. A sister
          of “Bobbie” and “Fred” still lives in the
          neighbourhood of Melbourne. Their
          father, Montgomery Gladstone, who was in
          the diplomatic service, and travelled about
          a great deal, was a brother of Stuart Glad-
          stone, the owner of Noorat, and a full
          cousin of William Ewart Gladstone, his
          father, Robert, being a brother of W. E.
          Gladstone’s father, Sir John, of Liverpool.
          The wife of Robert Gladstone, of Woolton-
          vale, Ella Gladstone by name, was also
          his second cousin, being the daughter of
          Robertson Gladstone, of Courthaize, near
          Liverpool, W. E. Gladstone’s older
          brother.
          A cousin of Sir John Gladstone
          (W. E. G.’s father), also called John, was
          a foundry owner in Castledouglas, and the
          inventor of the first suspension bridge, a
          model of which was made use of in the
          erection of the Menai Bridge connecting
          Anglesea with the mainland, and was after-
          wards presented to the Liverpool Stock
          Exchange by the inventor’s cousin, Sir
          John. One of the sons of this inventive
          engineer, William by name, left England
          in 1863 with his wife and son and daugh-
          ter, intending to settle in New Zealand,
          but owing to the unrest caused there by
          the Maori war, he came instead to Vic-
          toria, and bought land near Dandenong.
          Three years later he was killed in a horse
          accident, but his name is perpetuated in
          the name “Gladstone road” in Dandenong.
          His daughter afterwards married, and lived
          for many years in Gladstone House, Dande-
          nong, but is now widowed and settled in
          Gippsland. Her three sons and four daugh-
          ters are all married and perpetuating the
          Gladstone family in different parts of Aus-
          tralia. William’s son (also called Wil-
          liam), who came out with his father,
          mother, and sister in 1863 still lives in the
          Fix this textneighbourhood of Melbourne, with his son
          and grandson. An aunt of Sir John Glad-
          stone (W. E. G.’s father), Christina Glad-
          stone by name, married a Mr. Somerville,
          of Biggar. One of her great-grandchildren
          is Professor W. P. Paterson, of Edinburgh
          University, another is a professor in the
          West Australian University, and a third
          resides in Melbourne. Yours. &c.

          Melbourne, Nov.7, FAMILY TREE

           

          According to the Old Dandenong website:

          “Elizabeth Mary Orgill (nee Gladstone) operated Gladstone House until at least 1911, along with another hydropathic hospital (Birthwood) on Cheltenham road. She was the daughter of William Gladstone (Nephew of William Ewart Gladstone, UK prime minister in 1874).”

          The story of the Orgill’s continues in the chapter on Australia.

          #6252
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            The USA Housley’s

            This chapter is copied from Barbara Housley’s Narrative on Historic Letters, with thanks to her brother Howard Housley for sharing it with me.  Interesting to note that Housley descendants  (on the Marshall paternal side) and Gretton descendants (on the Warren maternal side) were both living in Trenton, New Jersey at the same time.

            GEORGE HOUSLEY 1824-1877

            George emigrated to the United states in 1851, arriving in July. The solicitor Abraham John Flint referred in a letter to a 15-pound advance which was made to George on June 9, 1851. This certainly was connected to his journey. George settled along the Delaware River in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. The letters from the solicitor were addressed to: Lahaska Post Office, Bucks County, Pennsylvania. George married Sarah Ann Hill on May 6, 1854 in Doylestown, Bucks County, Pennsylvania. The service was performed by Attorney James Gilkyson.

            Doylestown

            In her first letter (February 1854), Anne (George’s sister in Smalley, Derbyshire) wrote: “We want to know who and what is this Miss Hill you name in your letter. What age is she? Send us all the particulars but I would advise you not to get married until you have sufficient to make a comfortable home.”

            Upon learning of George’s marriage, Anne wrote: “I hope dear brother you may be happy with your wife….I hope you will be as a son to her parents. Mother unites with me in kind love to you both and to your father and mother with best wishes for your health and happiness.”  In 1872 (December) Joseph (George’s brother) wrote: “I am sorry to hear that sister’s father is so ill. It is what we must all come to some time and hope we shall meet where there is no more trouble.”

            Emma (George’s sister) wrote in 1855, “We write in love to your wife and yourself and you must write soon and tell us whether there is a little nephew or niece and what you call them.” In June of 1856, Emma wrote: “We want to see dear Sarah Ann and the dear little boy. We were much pleased with the “bit of news” you sent.” The bit of news was the birth of John Eley Housley, January 11, 1855. Emma concluded her letter “Give our very kindest love to dear sister and dearest Johnnie.”

            According to his obituary, John Eley was born at Wrightstown and “removed” to Lumberville at the age of 19. John was married first to Lucy Wilson with whom he had three sons: George Wilson (1883), Howard (1893) and Raymond (1895); and then to Elizabeth Kilmer with whom he had one son Albert Kilmer (1907). John Eley Housley died November 20, 1926 at the age of 71. For many years he had worked for John R. Johnson who owned a store. According to his son Albert, John was responsible for caring for Johnson’s horses. One named Rex was considered to be quite wild, but was docile in John’s hands. When John would take orders, he would leave the wagon at the first house and walk along the backs of the houses so that he would have access to the kitchens. When he reached the seventh house he would climb back over the fence to the road and whistle for the horses who would come to meet him. John could not attend church on Sunday mornings because he was working with the horses and occasionally Albert could convince his mother that he was needed also. According to Albert, John was regular in attendance at church on Sunday evenings.

            John was a member of the Carversville Lodge 261 IOOF and the Carversville Lodge Knights of Pythias. Internment was in the Carversville cemetery; not, however, in the plot owned by his father. In addition to his sons, he was survived by his second wife Elizabeth who lived to be 80 and three grandchildren: George’s sons, Kenneth Worman and Morris Wilson and Raymond’s daughter Miriam Louise. George had married Katie Worman about the time John Eley married Elizabeth Kilmer. Howard’s first wife Mary Brink and daughter Florence had died and he remarried Elsa Heed who also lived into her eighties. Raymond’s wife was Fanny Culver.

            Two more sons followed: Joseph Sackett, who was known as Sackett, September 12, 1856 and Edwin or Edward Rose, November 11, 1858. Joseph Sackett Housley married Anna Hubbs of Plumsteadville on January 17, 1880. They had one son Nelson DeC. who in turn had two daughters, Eleanor Mary and Ruth Anna, and lived on Bert Avenue in Trenton N.J. near St. Francis Hospital. Nelson, who was an engineer and built the first cement road in New Jersey, died at the age of 51. His daughters were both single at the time of his death. However, when his widow, the former Eva M. Edwards, died some years later, her survivors included daughters, Mrs. Herbert D. VanSciver and Mrs. James J. McCarrell and four grandchildren. One of the daughters (the younger) was quite crippled in later years and would come to visit her great-aunt Elizabeth (John’s widow) in a chauffeur driven car. Sackett died in 1929 at the age of 70. He was a member of the Warrington Lodge IOOF of Jamison PA, the Uncas tribe and the Uncas Hayloft 102 ORM of Trenton, New Jersey. The interment was in Greenwood cemetery where he had been caretaker since his retirement from one of the oldest manufacturing plants in Trenton (made milk separators for one thing). Sackett also was the caretaker for two other cemeteries one located near the Clinton Street station and the other called Riverside.

            Ed’s wife was named Lydia. They had two daughters, Mary and Margaret and a third child who died in infancy. Mary had seven children–one was named for his grandfather–and settled in lower Bucks county. Margaret never married. She worked for Woolworths in Flemington, N. J. and then was made manager in Somerville, N.J., where she lived until her death. Ed survived both of his brothers, and at the time of Sackett’s death was living in Flemington, New Jersey where he had worked as a grocery clerk.

            In September 1872, Joseph wrote, “I was very sorry to hear that John your oldest had met with such a sad accident but I hope he is got alright again by this time.” In the same letter, Joseph asked: “Now I want to know what sort of a town you are living in or village. How far is it from New York? Now send me all particulars if you please.”

            In March 1873 Harriet asked Sarah Ann: “And will you please send me all the news at the place and what it is like for it seems to me that it is a wild place but you must tell me what it is like….” The question of whether she was referring to Bucks County, Pennsylvania or some other place is raised in Joseph’s letter of the same week.

            On March 17, 1873, Joseph wrote: “I was surprised to hear that you had gone so far away west. Now dear brother what ever are you doing there so far away from home and family–looking out for something better I suppose.” The solicitor wrote on May 23, 1874: “Lately I have not written because I was not certain of your address and because I doubted I had much interesting news to tell you.” Later, Joseph wrote concerning the problems settling the estate, “You see dear brother there is only me here on our side and I cannot do much. I wish you were here to help me a bit and if you think of going for another summer trip this turn you might as well run over here.”

            Apparently, George had indicated he might return to England for a visit in 1856. Emma wrote concerning the portrait of their mother which had been sent to George: “I hope you like mother’s portrait. I did not see it but I suppose it was not quite perfect about the eyes….Joseph and I intend having ours taken for you when you come over….Do come over before very long.”

            In March 1873, Joseph wrote: “You ask me what I think of you coming to England. I think as you have given the trustee power to sign for you I think you could do no good but I should like to see you once again for all that. I can’t say whether there would be anything amiss if you did come as you say it would be throwing good money after bad.”

            On June 10, 1875, the solicitor wrote: “I have been expecting to hear from you for some time past. Please let me hear what you are doing and where you are living and how I must send you your money.” George’s big news at that time was that on May 3, 1875, he had become a naturalized citizen “renouncing and abjuring all allegiance and fidelity to every foreign prince, potentate, state and sovereignity whatsoever, and particularly to Victoria Queen of Great Britain of whom he was before a subject.”

            Another matter which George took care of during the years the estate was being settled was the purchase of a cemetery plot! On March 24, 1873, George purchased plot 67 section 19 division 2 in the Carversville (Bucks County PA) Cemetery (incorporated 1859). The plot cost $15.00, and was located at the very edge of the cemetery. It was in this cemetery, in 1991, while attending the funeral of Sarah Lord Housley, wife of Albert Kilmer Housley, that sixteen month old Laura Ann visited the graves of her great-great-great grandparents, George and Sarah Ann Hill Housley.

            George died on August 13, 1877 and was buried three days later. The text for the funeral sermon was Proverbs 27:1: “Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring forth.”

            #6249
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Grettons in USA and The Lusitania Survivor

              Two of my grandmothers uncles emigrated to New Jersey, USA,  John Orgill Gretton in 1888, and Michael Thomas Gretton in 1889.  My grandmothers mother Florence Nightingale Gretton, born in 1881 and the youngest of eight,  was still a child when they left.  This is perhaps why we knew nothing of them until the family research started.

              Michael Thomas Gretton

              1870-1940

              Michael, known by his middle name of Thomas, married twice. His occupation was a potter in the sanitary ware industry. He and his first wife Edith Wise had three children, William R Gretton 1894-1961, Charles Thomas Gretton 1897-1960, and Clara P Gretton 1895-1997.  Edith died in 1922, and Thomas married again. His second wife Martha Ann Barker was born in Stoke on Trent in England, but had emigrated to USA in 1909.  She had two children with her first husband Thomas Barker, Doris and Winifred.  Thomas Barker died in 1921.

              Martha Ann Barker and her daughter Doris, born in 1900, were Lusitania survivors.  The Lusitania was a British ocean liner that was sunk on 7 May 1915 by a German U-boat 11 miles (18 km) off the southern coast of Ireland, killing 1,198 passengers and crew.  Martha and Doris survived, but sadly nine year old Winifred did not. Her remains were lost at sea.

              Winifred Barker:

              Winifred Barker

               

              Thomas Barker sailed to England after the disaster to accompany Martha and Doris on the trip home to USA:

              Lusitania

               

              Thomas Gretton, Martha’s second husband, died in 1940.  She survived him by 23 years and died in 1963 in New Jersey:

              Lusitania

               

              John Orgill Gretton

              1868-1949

              John Orgill Gretton was a “Freeholder” in New Jersey for 24 years.  New Jersey alone of all the United States has the distinction of retaining the title of “FREEHOLDER” to denote the elected members of the county governing bodies. This descriptive name, which commemorates the origin of home rule, is used by only 21 of the nation’s 3,047 counties.  In other states, these county officials are known as commissioners, supervisors, probate judges, police jurors, councilors and a variety of other names.

              John Orgill Gretton

               

              John and his wife Caroline Thum had four children, Florence J Gretton 1893-1965, George Thum Gretton 1895-1951, Wilhelmina F Gretton 1899-1931, and Nathalie A Gretton 1904-1947.

              Their engagements and weddings appear on the society pages of the Trenton Newspapers.  For example the article headline on the wedding in 1919 of George Thum Gretton and his wife Elizabeth Stokes announces “Charming Society Girl Becomes Bride Today”.

              #6242
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                The Housley Letters

                We discovered that one of Samuel’s brothers, George Housley 1826-1877,  emigrated to America in 1851, to Solebury, in Pennsylvania. Another brother, Charles 1823-1856, emigrated to Australia at the same time.

                I wrote to the Solebury Historical Society to ask them if they had any information on the Housleys there. About a month later I had a very helpful and detailed reply from them.

                There were Housley people in Solebury Township and nearby communities from 1854 to at least 1973, perhaps 1985. George Housley immigrated in 1851, arriving in New York from London in July 1851 on the ship “Senator”. George was in Solebury by 1854, when he is listed on the tax roles for the Township He didn’t own land at that time. Housley family members mostly lived in the Lumberville area, a village in Solebury, or in nearby Buckingham or Wrightstown. The second wife of Howard (aka Harry) Housley was Elsa (aka Elsie) R. Heed, the daughter of the Lumberville Postmaster. Elsie was the proprietor of the Lumberville General Store from 1939 to 1973, and may have continued to live in Lumberville until her death in 1985. The Lumberville General Store was, and still is, a focal point of the community. The store was also the official Post Office at one time, hence the connection between Elsie’s father as Postmaster, and Elsie herself as the proprietor of the store. The Post Office function at Lumberville has been reduced now to a bank of cluster mailboxes, and official U.S. Postal functions are now in Point Pleasant, PA a few miles north of Lumberville.
                We’ve attached a pdf of the Housley people buried in Carversville Cemetery, which is in the town next to Lumberville, and is still in Solebury Township. We hope this list will confirm that these are your relatives.

                It doesn’t seem that any Housley people still live in the area. Some of George’s descendents moved to Wilkes-Barre, PA and Flemington, NJ. One descendent, Barbara Housley, lived in nearby Doylestown, PA, which is the county seat for Bucks County. She actually visited Solebury Township Historical Society looking for Housley relatives, and it would have been nice to connect you with her. Unfortunately she died in 2018. Her obituary is attached in case you want to follow up with the nieces and great nieces who are listed.

                Lumberville General Store, Pennsylvania, Elsie Housley:

                Lumberville

                 

                I noticed the name of Barbara’s brother Howard Housley in her obituary, and found him on facebook.  I knew it was the right Howard Housley as I recognized Barbara’s photograph in his friends list as the same photo in the obituary.  Howard didn’t reply initially to a friend request from a stranger, so I found his daughter Laura on facebook and sent her a message.  She replied, spoke to her father, and we exchanged email addresses and were able to start a correspondence.  I simply could not believe my luck when Howard sent me a 17 page file of Barbara’s Narrative on the Letters with numerous letter excerpts interspersed with her own research compiled on a six month trip to England.

                The letters were written to George between 1851 and the 1870s, from the Housley family in Smalley.

                Narrative of Historic Letters ~ Barbara Housley.
                AND BELIEVE ME EVER MY DEAR BROTHER, YOUR AFFECTIONATE FAMILY
                In February 1991, I took a picture of my 16 month old niece Laura Ann Housley standing near the tombstones of her great-great-great-grandparents, George and Sarah Ann Hill Housley. The occassion was the funeral of another Sarah Housley, Sarah Lord Housley, wife of Albert Kilmer Housley, youngest son of John Eley Housley (George and Sarah Ann’s first born). Laura Ann’s great-grandfather (my grandfather) was another George, John Eley’s first born. It was Aunt Sarah who brought my mother, Lois, a packet of papers which she had found in the attic. Mom spent hours transcribing the letters which had been written first horizontally and then vertically to save paper. What began to emerge was a priceless glimpse into the lives and concerns of Housleys who lived and died over a century ago. All of the letters ended with the phrase “And believe me ever my dear brother, your affectionate….”
                The greeting and opening remarks of each of the letters are included in a list below. The sentence structure and speech patterns have not been altered however spelling and some punctuation has been corrected. Some typical idiosyncrasies were: as for has, were for where and vice versa, no capitals at the beginnings of sentences, occasional commas and dashes but almost no periods. Emma appears to be the best educated of the three Housley letter-writers. Sister-in-law Harriet does not appear to be as well educated as any of the others. Since their mother did not write but apparently was in good health, it must be assumed that she could not.
                The people discussed and described in the following pages are for the most part known to be the family and friends of the Housleys of Smalley, Derbyshire, England. However, practically every page brings conjectures about the significance of persons who are mentioned in the letters and information about persons whose names seem to be significant but who have not yet been established as actual members of the family.

                To say this was a priceless addition to the family research is an understatement. I have since, with Howard’s permission, sent the file to the Derby Records Office for their family history section.  We are hoping that Howard will find the actual letters in among the boxes he has of his sisters belongings.  Some of the letters mention photographs that were sent. Perhaps some will be found.

                #6241
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Kidsley Grange Farm and The Quakers Next Door

                  Kidsley Grange Farm in Smalley, Derbyshire, was the home of the Housleys in the 1800s.  William Housley 1781-1848 was born in nearby Selston.   His wife Ellen Carrington 1795-1872 was from a long line of Carringtons in Smalley.  They had ten children between 1815 and 1838.  Samuel, my 3x great grandfather, was the second son born in 1816.

                  The original farm has been made into a nursing home in recent years, which at the time of writing is up for sale at £500,000. Sadly none of the original farm appears visible with all the new additions.

                  The farm before it was turned into a nursing home:

                  Kidsley Grange Farm

                  Kidsley Grange Farm and Kidsley Park, a neighbouring farm, are mentioned in a little book about the history of Smalley.  The neighbours at Kidsley Park, the Davy’s,  were friends of the Housleys. They were Quakers.

                  Smalley Farms

                   

                  In Kerry’s History of Smalley:

                  Kidsley Park Farm was owned by Daniel Smith,  a prominent Quaker and the last of the Quakers at Kidsley. His daughter, Elizabeth Davy, widow of William Davis, married WH Barber MB of Smalley. Elizabeth was the author of the poem “Farewell to Kidsley Park”.

                  Emma Housley sent one of Elizabeth Davy’s poems to her brother George in USA.

                   “We have sent you a piece of poetry that Mrs. Davy composed about our ‘Old House.’ I am sure you will like it though you may not understand all the allusions she makes use of as well as we do.”

                  Farewell to Kidsley Park
                  Farewell, Farewell, Thy pathways now by strangers feet are trod,
                  And other hands and horses strange henceforth shall turn thy sod,
                  Yes, other eyes may watch the buds expanding in the spring.
                  And other children round the hearth the coming years may bring,
                  But mine will be the memory of cares and pleasures there,
                  Intenser ~ that no living thing in some of them can share,
                  Commencing with the loved, and lost, in days of long ago,
                  When one was present on whose head Atlantic’s breezes blow,
                  Long years ago he left that roof, and made a home afar ~
                  For that is really only “home” where life’s affections are!
                  How many thoughts come o’er me, for old Kidsley has “a name
                  And memory” ~ in the hearts of some not unknown to fame.
                  We dream not, in those happy times, that I should be the last,
                  Alone, to leave my native place ~ alone, to meet the blast,
                  I loved each nook and corner there, each leaf and blade of grass,
                  Each moonlight shadow on the pond I loved: but let it pass,
                  For mine is still the memory that only death can mar;
                  I fancy I shall see it reflecting every star.
                  The graves of buried quadrupeds, affectionate and true,
                  Will have the olden sunshine, and the same bright morning dew,
                  But the birds that sang at even when the autumn leaves were seer,
                  Will miss the crumbs they used to get, in winters long and drear.
                  Will the poor down-trodden miss me? God help them if they do!
                  Some manna in the wilderness, His goodness guide them to!
                  Farewell to those who love me! I shall bear them still in mind,
                  And hope to be remembered by those I left behind:
                  Do not forget the aged man ~ though another fills his place ~
                  Another, bearing not his name, nor coming of his race.
                  His creed might be peculiar; but there was much of good
                  Successors will not imitate, because not understood.
                  Two hundred years have come and past since George Fox ~ first of “Friends” ~
                  Established his religion there ~ which my departure ends.
                  Then be it so: God prosper these in basket and in store,
                  And make them happy in my place ~ my dwelling, never more!
                  For I may be a wanderer ~ no roof nor hearthstone mine:
                  May light that cometh from above my resting place define.
                  Gloom hovers o’er the prospect now, but He who was my friend,
                  In the midst of troubled waters, will see me to the end.

                  Elizabeth Davy, June 6th, 1863, Derby.

                  Another excerpt from Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters from the family in Smalley to George in USA mentions the Davy’s:

                  Anne’s will was probated October 14, 1856. Mr. William Davy of Kidsley Park appeared for the family. Her estate was valued at under £20. Emma was to receive fancy needlework, a four post bedstead, feather bed and bedding, a mahogany chest of drawers, plates, linen and china. Emma was also to receive Anne’s writing desk! There was a condition that Ellen would have use of these items until her death.
                  The money that Anne was to receive from her grandfather, William Carrington, and her father, William Housley was to be distributed one third to Joseph, one third to Emma, and one third to be divided between her four neices: John’s daughter Elizabeth, 18, and Sam’s daughters Elizabeth, 10, Mary Anne, 9 and Catherine, age 7 to be paid by the trustees as they think “most useful and proper.” Emma Lyon and Elizabeth Davy were the witnesses.

                  Mrs. Davy wrote to George on March 21 1856 sending some gifts from his sisters and a portrait of their mother–“Emma is away yet and A is so much worse.” Mrs. Davy concluded: “With best wishes
                   for thy health and prosperity in this world and the next I am thy sincere friend.” Whenever the girls sent greetings from Mrs. Davy they used her Quaker speech pattern of “thee and thy.”

                   

                  #6236
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    The Liverpool Fires

                    Catherine Housley had two older sisters, Elizabeth 1845-1883 and Mary Anne 1846-1935.  Both Elizabeth and Mary Anne grew up in the Belper workhouse after their mother died, and their father was jailed for failing to maintain his three children.  Mary Anne married Samuel Gilman and they had a grocers shop in Buxton.  Elizabeth married in Liverpool in 1873.

                    What was she doing in Liverpool? How did she meet William George Stafford?

                    According to the census, Elizabeth Housley was in Belper workhouse in 1851. In 1861, aged 16,  she was a servant in the household of Peter Lyon, a baker in Derby St Peters.  We noticed that the Lyon’s were friends of the family and were mentioned in the letters to George in Pennsylvania.

                    No record of Elizabeth can be found on the 1871 census, but in 1872 the birth and death was registered of Elizabeth and William’s child, Elizabeth Jane Stafford. The parents are registered as William and Elizabeth Stafford, although they were not yet married. William’s occupation is a “refiner”.

                    In April, 1873, a Fatal Fire is reported in the Liverpool Mercury. Fearful Termination of a Saturday Night Debauch. Seven Persons Burnt To Death.  Interesting to note in the article that “the middle room being let off to a coloured man named William Stafford and his wife”.

                    Fatal Fire Liverpool

                     

                    We had noted on the census that William Stafford place of birth was “Africa, British subject” but it had not occurred to us that he was “coloured”.  A register of birth has not yet been found for William and it is not known where in Africa he was born.

                    Liverpool fire

                     

                    Elizabeth and William survived the fire on Gay Street, and were still living on Gay Street in October 1873 when they got married.

                    William’s occupation on the marriage register is sugar refiner, and his father is Peter Stafford, farmer. Elizabeth’s father is Samuel Housley, plumber. It does not say Samuel Housley deceased, so perhaps we can assume that Samuel is still alive in 1873.

                    Eliza Florence Stafford, their second daughter, was born in 1876.

                    William’s occupation on the 1881 census is “fireman”, in his case, a fire stoker at the sugar refinery, an unpleasant and dangerous job for which they were paid slightly more. William, Elizabeth and Eliza were living in Byrom Terrace.

                    Byrom Terrace, Liverpool, in 1933

                    Byrom Terrace

                     

                    Elizabeth died of heart problems in 1883, when Eliza was six years old, and in 1891 her father died, scalded to death in a tragic accident at the sugar refinery.

                    Scalded to Death

                     

                    Eliza, aged 15, was living as an inmate at the Walton on the Hill Institution in 1891. It’s not clear when she was admitted to the workhouse, perhaps after her mother died in 1883.

                    In 1901 Eliza Florence Stafford is a 24 year old live in laundrymaid, according to the census, living in West Derby  (a part of Liverpool, and not actually in Derby).  On the 1911 census there is a Florence Stafford listed  as an unnmarried laundress, with a daughter called Florence.  In 1901 census she was a laundrymaid in West Derby, Liverpool, and the daughter Florence Stafford was born in 1904 West Derby.  It’s likely that this is Eliza Florence, but nothing further has been found so far.

                     

                    The questions remaining are the location of William’s birth, the name of his mother and his family background, what happened to Eliza and her daughter after 1911, and how did Elizabeth meet William in the first place.

                    William Stafford was a seaman prior to working in the sugar refinery, and he appears on several ship’s crew lists.  Nothing so far has indicated where he might have been born, or where his father came from.

                    Some months after finding the newspaper article about the fire on Gay Street, I saw an unusual request for information on the Liverpool genealogy group. Someone asked if anyone knew of a fire in Liverpool in the 1870’s.  She had watched a programme about children recalling past lives, in this case a memory of a fire. The child recalled pushing her sister into a burning straw mattress by accident, as she attempted to save her from a falling beam.  I watched the episode in question hoping for more information to confirm if this was the same fire, but details were scant and it’s impossible to say for sure.

                    #6232
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Looking for Photographs

                      I appreciate how fortunate I am that there are so many family photographs on various sides of the family, however, on some sides, for example the Warrens and the Grettons, there are no photographs. I’d love to find a photograph of my great grandmother Florence Nightingale Gretton, as she is the only great grandparent I don’t have a photo of.

                      I look on other people’s family trees on ancestry websites, and I join local town memories and old photos groups on facebook hoping to find photos. And I have found a few, and what a prize it is to find a photograph of someone in your tree.  None found so far of Florence Nightingale Gretton, although I found one of her sister Clara, her brother Charles, and another potential one, posted on a Swadlincote group: a Warren wedding group in 1910.

                      Charles Herbert Gretton 1876-1954 and his wife Mary Ann Illsley:

                      Charles Gretton

                       

                      The wedding of Robert Adolphus Warren and Eveline Crofts.  Photo in the collection of Colin Smith, Eveline Crofts first cousin twice removed. Reposted with permission:

                      Warren wedding 1910

                      The groom was Florence’s husbands cousin, but identifying my great grandparents in the crowd would be guesswork.  My grandmother was born in 1906, and could be one of the children sitting at the front.  It was an interesting exercise to note the family likenesses.

                      Ben Warren the footballer is the man on the far right, on the same line as the groom. His children are sitting in front of the bride.

                      There are many mentions of Ben Warren the footballer on the Newhall and Swadlincote groups ~ Ben Warren was my great grandfathers cousin, and is a story in itself ~ and a photograph of Ben’s daughter, Lillian Warren was posted.

                      Lillian Warren (reposted with permission)

                      Lillian Warren

                       

                      Lillian was my grandmothers first cousin once removed or second cousin. The resemblance to my grandmother, Florence Noreen Warren, seems striking.

                      #6223
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Kate Purdy and the DH Lawrence Connection

                        Catherine (Kate) Purdy 1874-1950  was my grandfather George Marshall’s aunt, and the mother of George Rushby who went to Africa.  The photo is one of our family photos, and we knew that the woman at the back third from the right was an aunt of my grandfather’s. We didn’t know that it was Kate until we saw other photos of her in Mike’s collection.

                        DH Lawrence was born in Eastwood at roughly the same time as my great grandmother Mary Ann Gilman Purdy. Apparently his books are based on actual people living in the area at the time, so I read as many of his books as I could find, to help paint the picture of the time and place.  I also found out via an Eastwood facebook group, that he was not well liked there, and still isn’t. They say he was a wife beater, a groper and was cruel to animals, and they did not want a statue of him in their town!

                        Kate Rushby third from right back row:

                        Kate Rushby

                        Kate Rushby’s story as told by her grandson Mike:

                        George’s daughter Catherine (Kate) Purdy grew up in Eastwood and was living at Walnut Tree Lane when, at the age of 21, and on the 24 Sep 1894, she married John Henry Payling Rushby who was a policeman in the Grimsby Police. John Henry left the Police and together they bought a public house “The Three Tuns Inn” at Beggarlee. The establishment was frequented by amongst others, the writer D.H.Lawrence who wrote much of his book “Sons and Lovers” in the Inn. In his book he calls the Inn “The Moon and Stars” and mentions Kate. though not by name.

                        John Henry Rushby had two children, Charlotte and George Gilman Rushby. But a year after the birth of George on 28 Feb 1900, John Henry died at the age of thirty on 13 Sep 1901. He liked to show off his strength to his friends by lifting above his head an oak barrel full of beer. This would have weighed almost 200 kilograms. “He bust his gut” Kate said. He died of peritonitis following a hernia.

                        Following the death of John Henry, Kate managed the Three Tuns Inn on her own. But a regular visitor to the Inn was Frank Freer who was a singer and used to entertain the patrons with his fine baritone voice and by playing the cornet. He and Kate got married, but he turned out to be a drunk who beat his wife and was cruel to her son. They separated and he died from alcoholism, though he may also have been struck on the head with a beer bottle by a person unknown. She then married Mr Gregory Simpson who fathered a daughter Catherine, and then died from gas injuries he suffered on the battlefield in the first world war.

                        Despite her lack of men able to stay the course, Catherine became a very successful business woman. She ran the Three Tuns Inn and later moved to Jacksdale where she owned ”ThePortland Arms Hotel”. She travelled extensively to Europe in times of peace, to Africa several times, and around England frequently. She settled in Selston Lane Jacksdale in a large house bracketed by the homes of her daughters Lottie and Cath. She was a strong and tenacious woman who became the surrogate mother of her grandchildren Ann and George when they were separated from their parents by the second world war.

                        Mike Rushby’s photo of Kate:

                        Kate Purdy Rushby

                         

                         

                        #6221
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          Mary Ann Gilman Purdy

                          1880-1950

                          Mary Ann Gilman Purdy Marshall

                          Mary Ann was my grandfather George Marshall’s mother. She died in 1950, seven years before I was born. She has been referred to more often than not, since her death, as Mary Ann Gilman Purdy, rather than Mary Marshall. She was from Buxton, so we believed, as was her husband William Marshall. There are family photos of the Gilmans, grocers in Buxton, and we knew that Mary Ann was brought up by them. My grandfather, her son, said that she thought very highly of the Gilman’s, and added the Gilman name to her birth name of Purdy.

                           

                          The 1891 census in Buxton:

                          1891 census Buxton

                           

                          (Mary Ann’s aunt, Mrs Gilman, was also called Mary Anne, but spelled with an E.)

                          Samuel Gilman 1846-1909, and Mary Anne (Housley) Gilman  1846-1935,  in Buxton:

                          Gilmans Grocers

                          Samuel Gilman

                           

                          What we didn’t know was why Mary Ann (and her sister Ellen/Nellie, we later found) grew up with the Gilman’s. But Mary Ann wasn’t born in Buxton, Derbyshire, she was born in Eastwood, Nottinghamshire. When the search moved to Nottingham, we found the Purdy’s.

                          George Purdy 1848-1935, Mary Ann’s father:

                          George Purdy

                           

                          Mary Ann’s parents were George Purdy of Eastwood, and Catherine Housley of Smalley.

                          Catherine Housley 1849-1884, Mary Ann’s mother:

                          Catherine Housley

                           

                          Mary Ann was four years old when her mother died. She had three sisters and one brother. George Purdy remarried and kept the two older daughters, and the young son with him. The two younger daughters, Mary Ann and Nellie, went to live with Catherine’s sister, also called Mary Anne, and her husband Samuel Gilman. They had no children of their own. One of the older daughters who stayed with their father was Kate , whose son George Gilman Rushby, went to Africa. But that is another chapter.

                          George was the son of Francis Purdy and his second wife Jane Eaton. Francis had some twenty children, and is believed in Eastwood to be the reason why there are so many Purdy’s.

                          The woman who was a mother to Mary Ann and who she thought very highly of, her mothers sister, spent her childhood in the Belper Workhouse. She and her older sister Elizabeth were admitted in June, 1850, the reason: father in prison. Their mother had died the previous year. Mary Anne Housley, Catherine’s sister, married Samuel Gilman, and looked after her dead sisters children.

                          Mary Ann Gilman Purdy Marshalls recipes written on the back of the Gilmans Grocers paper:

                          recipes

                          #6219
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            The following stories started with a single question.

                            Who was Catherine Housley’s mother?

                            But one question leads to another, and another, and so this book will never be finished.  This is the first in a collection of stories of a family history research project, not a complete family history.  There will always be more questions and more searches, and each new find presents more questions.

                            A list of names and dates is only moderately interesting, and doesn’t mean much unless you get to know the characters along the way.   For example, a cousin on my fathers side has already done a great deal of thorough and accurate family research. I copied one branch of the family onto my tree, going back to the 1500’s, but lost interest in it after about an hour or so, because I didn’t feel I knew any of the individuals.

                            Parish registers, the census every ten years, birth, death and marriage certificates can tell you so much, but they can’t tell you why.  They don’t tell you why parents chose the names they did for their children, or why they moved, or why they married in another town.  They don’t tell you why a person lived in another household, or for how long. The census every ten years doesn’t tell you what people were doing in the intervening years, and in the case of the UK and the hundred year privacy rule, we can’t even use those for the past century.  The first census was in 1831 in England, prior to that all we have are parish registers. An astonishing amount of them have survived and have been transcribed and are one way or another available to see, both transcriptions and microfiche images.  Not all of them survived, however. Sometimes the writing has faded to white, sometimes pages are missing, and in some case the entire register is lost or damaged.

                            Sometimes if you are lucky, you may find mention of an ancestor in an obscure little local history book or a journal or diary.  Wills, court cases, and newspaper archives often provide interesting information. Town memories and history groups on social media are another excellent source of information, from old photographs of the area, old maps, local history, and of course, distantly related relatives still living in the area.  Local history societies can be useful, and some if not all are very helpful.

                            If you’re very lucky indeed, you might find a distant relative in another country whose grandparents saved and transcribed bundles of old letters found in the attic, from the family in England to the brother who emigrated, written in the 1800s.  More on this later, as it merits its own chapter as the most exciting find so far.

                            The social history of the time and place is important and provides many clues as to why people moved and why the family professions and occupations changed over generations.  The Enclosures Act and the Industrial Revolution in England created difficulties for rural farmers, factories replaced cottage industries, and the sons of land owning farmers became shop keepers and miners in the local towns.  For the most part (at least in my own research) people didn’t move around much unless there was a reason.  There are no reasons mentioned in the various registers, records and documents, but with a little reading of social history you can sometimes make a good guess.  Samuel Housley, for example, a plumber, probably moved from rural Derbyshire to urban Wolverhampton, when there was a big project to install indoor plumbing to areas of the city in the early 1800s.  Derbyshire nailmakers were offered a job and a house if they moved to Wolverhampton a generation earlier.

                            Occasionally a couple would marry in another parish, although usually they married in their own. Again, there was often a reason.  William Housley and Ellen Carrington married in Ashbourne, not in Smalley.  In this case, William’s first wife was Mary Carrington, Ellen’s sister.  It was not uncommon for a man to marry a deceased wife’s sister, but it wasn’t strictly speaking legal.  This caused some problems later when William died, as the children of the first wife contested the will, on the grounds of the second marriage being illegal.

                            Needless to say, there are always questions remaining, and often a fresh pair of eyes can help find a vital piece of information that has escaped you.  In one case, I’d been looking for the death of a widow, Mary Anne Gilman, and had failed to notice that she remarried at a late age. Her death was easy to find, once I searched for it with her second husbands name.

                            This brings me to the topic of maternal family lines. One tends to think of their lineage with the focus on paternal surnames, but very quickly the number of surnames increases, and all of the maternal lines are directly related as much as the paternal name.  This is of course obvious, if you start from the beginning with yourself and work back.  In other words, there is not much point in simply looking for your fathers name hundreds of years ago because there are hundreds of other names that are equally your own family ancestors. And in my case, although not intentionally, I’ve investigated far more maternal lines than paternal.

                            This book, which I hope will be the first of several, will concentrate on my mothers family: The story so far that started with the portrait of Catherine Housley’s mother.

                            Elizabeth Brookes

                             

                            This painting, now in my mothers house, used to hang over the piano in the home of her grandparents.   It says on the back “Catherine Housley’s mother, Smalley”.

                            The portrait of Catherine Housley’s mother can be seen above the piano. Back row Ronald Marshall, my grandfathers brother, William Marshall, my great grandfather, Mary Ann Gilman Purdy Marshall in the middle, my great grandmother, with her daughters Dorothy on the left and Phyllis on the right, at the Marshall’s house on Love Lane in Stourbridge.

                            Marshalls

                             

                             

                            The Search for Samuel Housley

                            As soon as the search for Catherine Housley’s mother was resolved, achieved by ordering a paper copy of her birth certificate, the search for Catherine Housley’s father commenced. We know he was born in Smalley in 1816, son of William Housley and Ellen Carrington, and that he married Elizabeth Brookes in Wolverhampton in 1844. He was a plumber and glazier. His three daughters born between 1845 and 1849 were born in Smalley. Elizabeth died in 1849 of consumption, but Samuel didn’t register her death. A 20 year old neighbour called Aaron Wadkinson did.

                            Elizabeth death

                             

                            Where was Samuel?

                            On the 1851 census, two of Samuel’s daughters were listed as inmates in the Belper Workhouse, and the third, 2 year old Catherine, was listed as living with John Benniston and his family in nearby Heanor.  Benniston was a framework knitter.

                            Where was Samuel?

                            A long search through the microfiche workhouse registers provided an answer. The reason for Elizabeth and Mary Anne’s admission in June 1850 was given as “father in prison”. In May 1850, Samuel Housley was sentenced to one month hard labour at Derby Gaol for failing to maintain his three children. What happened to those little girls in the year after their mothers death, before their father was sentenced, and they entered the workhouse? Where did Catherine go, a six week old baby? We have yet to find out.

                            Samuel Housley 1850

                             

                            And where was Samuel Housley in 1851? He hasn’t appeared on any census.

                            According to the Belper workhouse registers, Mary Anne was discharged on trial as a servant February 1860. She was readmitted a month later in March 1860, the reason given: unwell.

                            Belper Workhouse:

                            Belper Workhouse

                            Eventually, Mary Anne and Elizabeth were discharged, in April 1860, with an aunt and uncle. The workhouse register doesn’t name the aunt and uncle. One can only wonder why it took them so long.
                            On the 1861 census, Elizabeth, 16 years old, is a servant in St Peters, Derby, and Mary Anne, 15 years old, is a servant in St Werburghs, Derby.

                            But where was Samuel?

                            After some considerable searching, we found him, despite a mistranscription of his name, on the 1861 census, living as a lodger and plumber in Darlaston, Walsall.
                            Eventually we found him on a 1871 census living as a lodger at the George and Dragon in Henley in Arden. The age is not exactly right, but close enough, he is listed as an unmarried painter, also close enough, and his birth is listed as Kidsley, Derbyshire. He was born at Kidsley Grange Farm. We can assume that he was probably alive in 1872, the year his mother died, and the following year, 1873, during the Kerry vs Housley court case.

                            Samuel Housley 1871

                             

                            I found some living Housley descendants in USA. Samuel Housley’s brother George emigrated there in 1851. The Housley’s in USA found letters in the attic, from the family in Smalley ~ written between 1851 and 1870s. They sent me a “Narrative on the Letters” with many letter excerpts.

                            The Housley family were embroiled in a complicated will and court case in the early 1870s. In December 15, 1872, Joseph (Samuel’s brother) wrote to George:

                            “I think we have now found all out now that is concerned in the matter for there was only Sam that we did not know his whereabouts but I was informed a week ago that he is dead–died about three years ago in Birmingham Union. Poor Sam. He ought to have come to a better end than that….His daughter and her husband went to Birmingham and also to Sutton Coldfield that is where he married his wife from and found out his wife’s brother. It appears he has been there and at Birmingham ever since he went away but ever fond of drink.”

                            No record of Samuel Housley’s death can be found for the Birmingham Union in 1869 or thereabouts.

                            But if he was alive in 1871 in Henley In Arden…..
                            Did Samuel tell his wife’s brother to tell them he was dead? Or did the brothers say he was dead so they could have his share?

                            We still haven’t found a death for Samuel Housley.

                             

                             

                            #6161

                            Dispersee sat on a fallen tree trunk, lost in thought. A long walk in the woods had seemed just the ticket……

                            Nora wasn’t surprised to encounter a fallen tree trunk no more than 22 seconds after the random thought wafted through her mind ~ if thought was was the word for it ~ about Dispersee sitting on a fallen tree trunk.  Nora sat on the tree trunk ~ of course she had to sit on it; how could she not ~  simultaneously stretching her aching back and wondering who Dispersee might be.  Was it a Roman name?  Something to do with the garum on the shopping receipt?

                            Nora knew she wasn’t going to get to the little village before night fall. Her attempts to consult the map failed. It was like a black hole.  No signal, no connection, just a blank screen.  She looked up at the sky.  The lowering dark clouds were turning orange and red as the sun went down behind the mountains, etching the tree skeletons in charcoal black in the middle distance.

                            In a sudden flash of wordless alarm, Nora realized she was going to be out alone in the woods at night and wild boars are nocturnal and a long challenging walk in broad daylight was one thing but alone at night in the woods with the wild boars was quite another, and in a very short time indeed had worked herself up into a state approaching panic, and then had another flash of alarm when she realized she felt she would swoon in any moment and fall off the fallen trunk. The pounding of her, by then racing, heartbeats was yet further cause for alarm, and as is often the case, the combination of factors was sufficiently noteworthy to initiate a thankfully innate ability to re establish a calm lucidity, and pragmatic attention to soothe the beating physical heart as a matter of priority.

                            It was at the blessed moment of restored equilibrium and curiosity (and the dissipation of the alarm and associated malfunctions) that the man appeared with the white donkey.

                            This year, Christmas has come a month early for Clara.

                            VanGogh, her Malinois with the lopsided ear had dug a hole in the garden of Grandpa’s home in the countryside. She usually wouldn’t have given it second thought, but the hole was big this time, and the dog unusually excited. Looking at it, that’s when she noticed the shiny corner of what seemed to be a very large metal box.

                            There was something buried there, apparently since a long time. Her archaeologist senses were all tingly. What, why, how, and how far back in time could she go… She couldn’t wait to tell the others.

                            #6128

                            In reply to: Tart Wreck Repackage

                            “Never again,” said Tara, pouring her second black coffee.  “I’m done with these hangovers. You’ll have to find someone else to drink with from now on.”

                            “You say that every week, Tara.  What are we going to do next? We’re floundering. We don’t even have a plan. Everything we do takes us further away from the case. I don’t even remember what the case is!”

                            “Here, have some more coffee.  Don’t roll your eyes at me like that, cases are always like this, they always go through this phase.”  Tara wasn’t in the mood for this kind of depressing talk, it was much too complicated. Surely it was simply a matter of drinking another coffee, until everything fell back into place.

                            “Cases do, do they?” Star asked, “Do they really? And what phase would that be, and how would you know?”

                            “Snarky tart, yes they do. I’ve been researching things you know, not just swanning around.  We’ve reached the part of the case where nothing makes sense and the investigators don’t know what to do next. It’s an essential part of the process, everyone knows that.  The important thing is not to try and work things out too early. The danger is preconceived ideas, you see,” Tara pontificated, warming to the theme.

                            “I can assure you that I have no preconceived ideas because I have no clue what’s going to happen next,” replied Star, trying not to roll her eyes too obviously.  She knew from experience not to provoke Tara too much until at least the third cup of coffee.

                            “Precisely!” Tara said triumphantly. “Now it will all start to come together and make sense. ”

                            Star didn’t look convinced.  “What are we going to do about the middle aged lady we locked in the wardrobe last night, though?”

                            “What did we do that for?!” asked Tara in astonishment.

                            “I can’t remember.  Maybe we thought it was Aunt April?”

                            “Wait, if Aunt April isn’t in the wardrobe, then where is she?”

                            “That’s what I”m saying!” cried Star in exasperation. “What do we do next?”

                            #6106

                            In reply to: Tart Wreck Repackage

                            Rosamund gaped at her aunt.  “Really, Auntie April? Wow!” She leaped up, not noticing her aunt smirk, and climbed into the wardrobe.

                            Seizing the moment, April tossed her pizza aside and sprang over to to the wardrobe door, slammed it shut and turned the key.  Leaning her back on the locked door, she smiled triumphantly.

                            The office door opened slowly, due to the melted cheese stuck on the carpet that had slid down the door when the pizza hit it.  Fortunately for April the door got stuck on an olive, providing a valuable few seconds in which to grab the broom and flee to the rest room before Star and Tara entered the room.

                            “Don’t let me out until April!” a muffled voice joined the banging sounds coming from the wardrobe.

                            “The client is still in the wardrobe!” Tara said, exasperated. “And where the hell is Rosamund? She was supposed to let that woman out! Useless, that’s what she is.”

                            “Just ignore her until Rosamund comes back. Sounds like she’s gone a bit mental already anyway. Why does she want to stay in there until April? It’s months away.”

                            “I’m going home, it’s been a long day. Come on, let’s leave a note for Rosamund to deal with it. She took long enough off work, now it’s our turn.”  Star didn’t need any more persuading.

                            #6103

                            In reply to: Tart Wreck Repackage

                            “Do what?” asked Rosamund, returning from lunch.

                            Rosamund! About time. You’ve been gone days. Thought you must have quit.” Tara tried to keep the disappointment from her voice.

                            Tara and I are going to expose the cult! And it would be a whole lot easier if you would stick around to answer the phone in our absence.” Star looked accusingly at Rosamund.

                            Rosamund scrunched her brow. “Am I in bloody groundwort day or something? Didn’t you close that case?” She grinned apologetically.  “Just before I went to lunch?”

                            Tara rubbed her head. “Damn it, she’s right! How could we have forgotten!”

                            “Oh!” Star gasped. “The person who turned up in the mask! Yesterday evening. That must have been our second case! The one with the cheating husband!”

                            They both looked towards the wardrobe — the large oak one, next to the drinks cupboard. The wardrobe which had rather mysteriously turned up a few days ago, stuffed full of old fur coats and rather intriguing boxes—the delivery person insisted he had the right address. “And after all, who are we to argue? We’ll just wait for someone to claim it, shall we?” Star had said, thinking it might be rather fun to explore further.

                            Tara grimaced. “Of course. It wasn’t an armed intruder; it was our client practising good virus protocol.”

                            “And that banging noise isn’t the pipes,” said Star with a nervous laugh. “I’d better call off the caretaker.”

                            “We really must give up comfort drinking!” said Tara, paling as she remembered the intruder’s screaming as they’d bundled her into the wardrobe.

                            Rosamund shook her head. “Jeepers! What have you two tarts gone and done.”

                            Star and Tara looked at each other. “Rosamund …” Star’s voice was strangely high. “How about you let her out. Tara and I will go and have our lunch now. Seeing as you’ve had such a long break already.”

                            “Me! What will I say?”

                            Tara scratched her head. “Um …offer her a nice cup of tea and tell her she’ll laugh about this one day.”

                            “If she’s still bloody alive,” muttered Rosamund.

                            #6096
                            F LoveF Love
                            Participant

                              Liz!” shouted Finnley, without pausing from her writing. “Liz, be a love and make me a cup of tea. The organic green tea in the second drawer down.” There was a crash and some unintelligible screaming from the next room. Fortunately, Finnley was used to unintelligible noises coming from Liz’s mouth. “Oh for the … what do you mean you don’t know where the kitchen is?”

                              Finnley took a deep breath. She recalled the words of Lemon Tzu:

                              Tension is who you think you are, relaxation is who you are.

                              “Okay, okay. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I will interrupt my important writing for a few minutes to elucidate you on the mysteries of the kitchen.”

                              A duster came flying into the room, closely followed by a red-faced Liz. “There is really no need for sarcasm, Finnley. I trust you remember it is all down to MY goodness that you have this opportunity.”

                              #6088

                              In reply to: Tart Wreck Repackage

                              No sooner had they reached for the drinks in the office cupboard, than the phone rang loudly.

                              Rosamund!” howled Star. “Where is that daft niece of yours, and what good is she if she doesn’t even answer the calls! Rosamund!”

                              “I thought you gave her the afternoon?” Tara mouthed while picking the annoying phone. “Cartwright and Wrexham Private Investigators, can I help you?”

                              Her face frowned. “Herself speaking.”

                              “Yes, we do private investigations. Very successfully I may say. Alright Ma’am, let me check my agenda.” She looked in the air, flipping an imaginary agenda. “Oh, you’re in luck, our 5pm just cancelled. Alright then, see you at our office. Au revoir.”

                              Tara hung up with a smile.

                              Star was busy slurping the mojito while struggling with the mint bits in her teeth. “What? Tell me this instant!”

                              “Our second case! Isn’t it exciting!”

                              “Sure thing, what it is this time? Evil possession?”

                              “Actually, it’s not that far off. Apparently, our ladyship needs a falgrante delicto of adultery. Her husband seems to be a cheating one, and with a twinge of double personality… Or at least that’s what she said.”

                              “Fantastic. Can’t wait for all the juicy details. I’ll go prepare my sequin red dress to set the honey trap darling.”

                              “Good lord, get a hold of yourself Star, it’s only been a day, and you’re ready to jump on the next passing horse as it were.”

                              “Who said you shouldn’t mix pleasure with business.”

                              “Right. Thought that was the reverse…”

                              “Tsk. Just to get the last word.”

                              “Indeed.”

                              #6026

                              Dear Jorid Whale,

                              My hands are shaking while I type this on the keyboard.

                              I’m not sure which of last night’s dreams is the bizarrest. Bizarre in a fantastic way, although for certain people it might be called grotesque. I’m certain it has something to do with that book I ordered online last week. I don’t usually read books and certainly not like this one. But the confinement, it makes you consider making things out of your ordinary.

                              It’s called The Enchanted Forest of Changes, by a Chinese artist Níngméng (柠檬). They say his artist name means lemon, but that some of his friends call him Níng mèng 凝梦 (curdle dreams), which to my ears sound exactly the same except a little bit angrier. I found out about him on a forum about creepy dolls abandoned in forests all around the world. Yeah exactly, the confinement effect again. Apparently it started with a few dolls in a forest in Michigan, and then suddenly people started to find them everywhere. I wonder if some people are really into the confinement thing or if it’s just me using that as a reason to stay home.

                              Anyway, someone on that forum posted one of the picture of that book and it caught my eye. So much so that I dreamt of it the following night. So I bought the book and it’s mostly ink drawings, but they seem to speak directly to some part of you that you were not even aware you had. I almost hear whispers when I look at the drawings. And then I have those dreams.

                              Last night I dreamt of a cat that had been raised as a boy. He even had the shape of one, but shorter maybe. He had learned to talk and use his paws as hands, his claws had grown into fingers, had lost most of his fur and he was wearing clothes. If I was amazed by such a feat, it kinda seemed normal for the people I met in that dream. It just took a lot of efforts, love and dedication to raise this kind of children.

                              And Whale, I feel tingling in my arms. This morning you showed me the picture of a kitten! That’s not a mere coincidence. I’m feeling so excited, my hands are too slow to type what I want to write. I fear I’m going to forget an important detail.

                              About the second dream. The world was in shock, there was this giant… thing that looked like a pistil and that had grown during the night in some arid area. It was taller than the tallest human made tower. Its extremity was cone shaped, and I confess that the whole thing looked like some kind of dick to me.

                              Plants and trees had followed in the following days as if the pistil had changed the climatic conditions (autocorrect wanted to write climactic, is that you playing around?).

                              The pistil was protected by some kind of field and it couldn’t be approached by everyone. Governments had tried, pharmaceutical companies had tried. People who wanted to make gold out of it, they were all rejected. But for some reason some people could approach. Anyone, not just the pure of hearts or the noble ones. Actually a whole bunch of weirdoes started to take their chances. Some were allowed in and some where not. Nobody knew what was the deciding factor.

                              A friend of mine that I have not seen in years during my waking life, she came back and asked me to come with her. So we went and were allowed in. My recall of the events after that is fuzzy. But I get the strange impression that I will spend more time in there later on.

                              [Edited in the afternoon]

                              I don’t believe it! It’s on the news everywhere. It has even replaced the news about the virus and the confinement.

                              Giant pistils have appeared around the world, but it seems only people who had been infected can see them.

                              Crazy rumours run on the internet. Giant mass hallucination caused by the virus. Some people say it’s alien technology, spores engineered to control our brains.

                              There is one not so far from where I live. Should I wait for Kady to call me?

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