George's little diary

I wrote earlier about my 3GGF William "George" Beck, who emigrated to Tasmania as a ship's carpenter. His family had gravitated there when he was a young man of 18, his life spread out before him. Life was hardscrabble, as evidenced by advertisements in the local paper (owned by his uncle) that showed people serving many roles: the barkeep was also a baker, and his wife and sister sold fancy goods brought fresh from London--no doubt by young George. 

When he was 24, George married a woman named Elizabeth Ford, and within a year, they had a daughter, named Sarah. George, trying to provide for his little family, set off on yet another voyage back to England. Two things stand out: his wife died while he was at sea returning to Tasmania--just after he had crossed the equator on his easterly route, and we know this because there are excerpts copied from his "little diary" by his granddaughter sometime in the 1940s. 

The notes are terse (the diary was small?) "Feby 5th 1840 Arrived at Van Dieman's Land" (after 5 months at sea) and "May 10th gave L1 S10 for a plaid dress"--presumably for his toddler daughter Sarah, though she is not mentioned by name. There is also no entry copied for his second marriage, to another Elizabeth (Gardiner) in 1842. They had six children in quick succession--and lost three of them. After the death of his father and the discovery of gold in California, George smelled gold: he built a small house, took it apart and put it in the hold of the Barque Spartan, then bundled his wife and children up for the 112-day voyage to California: "Left Launceston for California, arrive Sept 2, stopping 10 days at Tahiti." His daughter Sarah is not with them, apparently having been taken in by her grandmother. Six weeks after their arrival, the Beck family buries their young baby boy, George, in California, their new home. 

The diary's copyist notes that the original was passed down to her cousin, but that cousin died in 1973. I have not been successful in finding the diary, which might have answered some questions, such as why he left his first child behind--she was not mentioned in his will, but when his children probated the will, they made sure to send Sarah her share of the estate. I can only wonder what other tales the diary might reveal.

I can only hope that the little diary is safe and sound in the hands of a distant cousin somewhere, and that it is not lost to time. 

The Barque Spartan

Edward and the mystery pitcher

My mother was the family historian, inheriting family charts, oodles of photographs, and of course, the odd family heirloom. The Civil War blanket that belonged to 3GGF George, the silver teaspoon from colonial cousin Polly, and the ornate Victorian Pitcher, won by Edward Walsh.

It is this latter item that was a mystery: the Walshes, family lore told us, came from Bandon in County Cork, Ireland; the immigrant ancestor was named Thomas, and his wife (according to a bank signature card) was Mary O'Brien. My father managed to track down Thomas and his large family in New York in 1850--a beautiful, clear hand had transcribed all the names legibly. A daughter born in Ireland, and other children are listed, but no Edward. The youngest son, David is the man my father remembered as his grandfather, a man who had left the Catholic Church and his family behind in New York. 

In the mid 1990s I had the opportunity to spend a month in Ireland. I took advantage of the Thursday evening hours to search microfilms of Irish Parish registers, and even ventured down to Bandon to walk the local cemeteries. I came home with some seemingly close matches, but nothing that popped out as "our people." For another twenty years, my father and I searched any index we could find to no avail; he built up a stack of microfilm request cards at the Family History Center. The path had grown cold.

My father and mother passed away, and I found a note that Edward's pitcher should go to our son, since he was studying fire science--somewhere along the line she had decided that Edward must have been a fireman, but it was a guess at best. And there was still no Edward in my tree, and I had no idea how to add him.

And then, in 2017, the family decided to do DNA testing; me, my brother, and son. At first, there were only strong matches on my mother's side, but after a couple of years, more, unidentified matches emerged--and by using Leeds sorting, I discovered three new surnames that could only be from my father's paternal side. I excitedly messaged each of them, and eagerly awaited their reply--could they help solve the Edward mystery?

To this day, none of the matches have responded, but I spent my waiting time building a tree for them. Based on the six relationships they posted, I traced their line up and down, and sideways. And then I found it: one set of matches connected to the Irish-born daughter, Mary! I turned my efforts to the next line, and there it was in a New York Times article: "Police Captain Edward Walsh died late last evening, after lying at the point of death for several weeks, at the home of his son-in-law." The son-in-law's name was in my DNA list, and the line seemed to fit, but I wanted to be sure.

I went through some of the more distant DNA  matches, and on a whim, contacted one in Ireland--in County Cork, but not in Bandon. Not only did she respond quickly, she was able to verify the two children born to Thomas and Mary--in Ballinhassig, County Cork. And one of them was named Edward. It all fit together, and the numbers in the DNA don't lie. Once I found a picture of him there was no doubt--he looks like his brother and nephews. 

And the pitcher? It was an award of valor for his role in defending his fellow officers during the Haughmont riots in New York, and it set him on a path to becoming a well-respected police chief.

The mystery pitcher