"Who Do You Think You Are?" - Courteney Cox

 

Is it here again already?  I'm not ready!!

Surprisingly, even though it has been several months since the last episode of Who Do You Think You Are? aired on TLC (in May 2016), I really was unprepared for this new season.  The first episode was broadcast the day before I went out of town for a week, so I was unable to rewatch it until this past weekend.  And that, of course, has put me behind already, because the second episode has aired before I could write up my commentary on the first.  I hope I can catch up soon.

That said, I'm a little more optimistic about this season than the past couple, as I recognize the names of more than half of the celebrities featured.  Progress!

The season began with Courteney Cox.  The teaser at the beginning said that she would unveil a web of mystery and intrigue on her mother's family line.  She would learn about scheming ancestors with big ambitions.  One ancestor paid a grisly price ("drawn and hanged?"), while another was a big name in history.

The opening shots show Cox walking on a beach but do not identify where she is.  It was California; my best guesses for the specific location are Malibu or Santa Monica.  She says she is excited about the journey she will be taking and doesn't know what is ahead.  Something "a little naughty" might be ok.  She jokes about Buckingham Palace and then says that isn't possible, because her family would have been shouting it from the rooftops.  (Naw, no foreshadowing here, none at all, right?)

Cox didn't really expect to become an actress, because she is originally from Alabama, not known for having produced many well known actors.  After moving to New York to pursue her dream, her big break came when she appeared in Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark" video (1984).  Highlights of her career mentioned are Family Ties (1987–1989), Friends (1994–2000, and from which I recognize her), the Scream series of movies (1996–2000), and Cougar Town (2009–2015).  She directed ten episodes of Cougar Town and two feature films.  (I don't now why everyone always wants to direct.  Directing is not all it's cracked up to be.  I much prefer working audio.)

Cox says she is thankful for her career and her family.  She is the youngest of four children.  Her father, Richard Lewis Cox (who died in 2001), was the youngest of five.  Sundays were spent at family gatherings with her father's relatives, and family history was talked about.  It was very different with her mother's side of the family, as her maternal grandfather died when her mother was only six weeks old.  Cox knows his name — Bruce Bass — and that she is supposed to have English, Irish, Scottish, and Welsh ancestry, but that's about it.  Now that she's getting a little older (one day younger than my sister!), she wants to know more about that side of the family.  She hopes her ancestors made some kind of a mark but that they didn't murder anyone (more oh-so-subtle foreshadowing).

Her "journey" begins in her own home with the ever-popular Joseph Shumway, who on this episode is credited simply as "Genealogist" (thereby downplaying his position as an Ancestry.com employee).  The first thing he does is open his laptop and jump onto Ancestry, which apparently has decided that subtlety is for fools.  He tells Cox he has built a family tree using vital records and other documents and shows her the online tree he has created.  No photos are shown for Cox or her parents (Richard Lewis Cox, 1931–2001, and Courteney B. Bass, living), but there is one for her grandfather Samuel Bruce Bass, Jr.  Cox has never seen the photo before and asks where it came from; Shumway says it is from the family member she suggested as a contact.  So even though we never see or hear from any family members during the entire episode, at least one person was involved in some way.

According to the tree, Samuel Bruce Bass, Jr. was born July 18, 1907 in Richmond, Virginia and died November 3, 1934 in Richmond.  He was married to Dorothy Godwin, who was born in 1911 in Calera, Shelby County, Alabama and died in 1986.  Cox comments that Dorothy would have moved to Virginia to be with Bruce Bass after they married.  The photo of Bass has a handwritten inscription:  "To Dot, with all my love, Bruce."

From Cox's grandparents Shumway slides quickly up the tree (too quickly for me to read most of the names) to her 4x-great-grandparents, Thomas Bass (1752–1832) and Mary Moseley.  I did manage to see that Cox's 3x-great-grandparents on the Bass line were Richard Bass and Martha E. Gates.  We hear that Mary Moseley's parents were Richard Moseley (1724–1781) and Mary Bass (1737–1791), which confuses Cox quite a bit.  Shumway says that she has deep Virginia roots and that Thomas Bass and Mary Moseley were related, which garners a "That's terrible!" from Cox.  Shumway tries to soften the news by explaining that they were only half-cousins and adds that in those days there was a smaller population and therefore people did not have as many options available for whom to marry (Virginia tidewater genealogy, a notoriously endogamous group).

After absorbing and accepting this piece of information, Cox cuts to the chase:  When did her family come to Virginia?  Shumway tells her that ancestor is interesting.  Thomas Ligon was born about 1623 in Warwickshire, England (and died March 16, 1675 or 1676 in Henrico County, Virginia).  He married Mary Harris (1625–1703) and came to North America in the 1640's.  The next question, of course, is, "Why?"

Shumway then gives one of those mini history lessons that is normally provided by the narrator.  The period during which Ligon came was known as the Great Migration.  It began with the Pilgrims in 1620 and went through the 1640's.  Ligon would have been one of many young men looking for economic opportunity.  The Puritans and others going to New England were seeking religious freedom, but the tens of thousands of people, mainly young men, going to Virginia were looking to make their fortunes in land and tobacco.

And with that tiny piece of information (keep in mind that we saw absolutely no documents, not even online), Shumway tells Cox that to learn more she will need to go to England.  (I"m sure there are absolutely no records in Virginia or elsewhere in the United States that could tell her anything more about Ligon.)

Ligon sounds like a posh English surname to Cox, and she loves English architecture.  That's it before she heads off to England.

A map shown on screen indicates that Cox is in Gloucestershire, but nothing more specific is said.  The building she enters looks like a library but had no identification that was shown on camera.  Inside, she is met by Nick Barratt, credited as a genealogist and professor of public history.  He tells her he has found more information about her ancestor.  He begins to explain that the Ligon family had lots of land in the agricultural heart of England, when we discover Cox and Barratt are two people separated by a common language.  Barratt pronounces the name "lie-GONE", while Cox (and Shumway) has been saying "LI-ghin."  Cox concedes the point and starts saying it the other way.

Either way, the Ligon family is a wealthy one from Warwickshire, and families with status leave lots of records.  Because of that, Barratt has been able to put together a tree for Cox, and he unrolls one of the lovely calligraphed lineages we are accustomed to seeing on this program.  It begins on the bottom with Thomas Ligon and Mary Harris and immediately proceeds back nine more generations, with a stunning lack of detail.

The scroll is titled "Ligon to Berkeley."  Thomas Ligon, born 1623 or 1624 in Warwickshire, died 1675 or 1676 in Henrico County, Virignia, married Mary Harris, born about 1625, died before 1703.  Ligon's parents were Thomas Ligon and Elizabeth Pratt (I could not see the birth and death info for either).  This Thomas Ligon's parents were Thomas Lygon, born 1545 in Worcestershire, died 1603 (I think) in Gloucestershire; and Frances Dennis, born unknown, died 1623 in Warwickshire.  Thomas Lygon's parents were Eleanor Dennis, born unknown, died 1535 or 1536 in Gloucestershire; and William Lygon, born about 1512 in Worcestershire, died 1567 in Worcestershire (another cousin marriage?).  Eleanor's parents were Anne Berkeley, born and died unknown; and William Dennis, born about 1470, died 1533 in Gloucestershire.  Anne's parents were Maurice Berkeley, born about 1435, died 1506; and Isabel Mead, born 1444 in Gloucestershire, died 1514 in Warwickshire.  Maurice's parents were James Berkeley, born in Monmouthshire (I couldn't read the year), died 1483 in Gloucestershire; and Isabel Mowbray, born unknown, died 1431 in Worcestershire.  James' parents were James de Berkeley, born 1354, died 1405; and Elizabeth Bluet, born and died unknown.  This James' parents were Maurice de Berkeley, born 1333, died 1368 in Gloucestershire; and Elizabeth de Spencer, born unknown, died 1389.  Maurice's parents were Thomas de Berkeley and Margaret Mortimer, at the top of the page.

Barratt says that one of the names jumps out at him.  He latches onto Anne Berkeley (she of the unknown birth and death dates) as a particularly important name.  (If she's so important, you'd think they could have narrowed her birth and death dates down somewhat; at least her Wikipedia page makes an effort.)  They have another discussion about pronunciation:  Cox immediately says "BER-klee", while Barratt says "BAR-klee", and Cox again concedes.  He then jumps to the top of the page and points out Thomas de Berkeley, who married Margaret Mortimer; they lived in the late 1200's and early 1300's.  They were Cox's 18x-great-grandparents.

Thomas de Berkeley's arms*

Thomas de Berkeley was a baron, which was the highest rank of aristocrat, just below the king.  He would have been the top assistant to the king.  It's as important of a position as a nonroyal could have.  Cox asks whether being an aristocrat was related to politics or money, and Barratt says both.

The narrator steps in to give more of an explanation.  High-ranking British aristocrats were wealthy landowners.  Some were also political advisors to the king.  They helped enforce the law, collect taxes, and build armies.  They were essential to the king's ability to rule.

(This is a total aside.  I'm a voice geek — my mother taught me to recognize voices on TV and in movies.  When I heard this narrator's voice, I thought it sounded different from the previous seasons.  It's similar, but not quite the same.  It took a little effort to find the names, but the narrator this season is Ken Rogers, while the one in previous seasons appears to have been Mocean Melvin.)

Barratt says that someone in Berkeley's position would have had to attend court.  He had to be around the king, whether good or bad things were going on.  Nothing would have escaped the attention of the Berkeleys.  From this Barratt segues to a copy of a 1327 document written in Latin.  It has many details about the Berkeley household — financial items, errands, costs, etc.  One particular item mentioned on the page is important, and he hands a translation to Cox.

Receiver's Account, A4/2/7 [SR 39], face lines 61–66

. . . Gourne going to Nottingham to tell the king and queen of the death of the father of the king with letters of the lord . . .

The lord mentioned in this item is Thomas de Berkeley.  He is sending a message to the king (Edward III) to let him know that the king's father has died.  Cox wants to know why Berkeley was the first person to know that the king's father had died.  Was Berkeley close to the old king?

Barratt shows Cox a map with "Barkley" marked on it.  That is the location of Castle Berkeley, a real castle with moats and everything, and it is still around.  It has records from when this happened, which will have answers to Cox's questions.

Berkeley Castle is indeed the next stop on Cox's British tour.  In the car on the way there, she says she is going to meet a Medieval historian.  (She did not drive at all in England but was chauffeured around.)  She is excited and wants to find out why Berkeley knew about the death of the king's father.

the Berkeley Arch**

Chris Given-Wilson, a professor of Medieval history at the University of St. Andrews, greets Cox when she arrives at the castle.  He tells her that the castle was built mostly by her ancestor, Thomas de Berkeley.  They walk through the "Berkeley arch" and into what appears to be the castle's archive room.  Given-Wilson has documents at hand that he says will reveal the events of 700 years ago.  Unlike the copy Cox viewed earlier, these are originals on parchment; they are also written in Latin.

Given-Wilson unrolls a parchment, points to a location on it, and then hands Cox a translation of the Latin text:

-- >< -- >< -- >< -- >< --

Reeve's Account, A1/24/126 [GAR 118, Manor of Ham]

. . . For the lord's expenses in Berkeley Castle for 22 weeks from the day after All Saints until the 5th of April which was Palm Sunday this year, on which day the father of the King came at dinner time . . .

-- >< -- >< -- >< -- >< --

A conundrum has occurred to Cox:  Why isn't the father of the king the king, if he is still alive?  Rather than answer the question directly, Given-Wilson says he has another item.  He shows her a second parchment, this one from 1327, and again provides a translation:

-- >< -- >< -- >< -- >< --

Receiver's Account A4/2/7 [SR 39] face lines 24–[could not read on TV screen]

. . . For bolts, rods, bars, and other ironwork bought for the . . . chamber . . . of the father of the king, 14s 12d

-- >< -- >< -- >< -- >< --

(Given-Wilson did not mention this, but if you look at the archival reference for this and compare it to that for the message about the king's father's death we saw with Barratt, they appear to be from the same record.  This item, for the hardware, is about 40 lines earlier than the death announcement.)

It's pretty clear from the items that were purchased that the king's father was a prisoner.  Given-Wilson clarifies that he was being held prisoner by Berkeley, not by his son, the current king.

This blows Cox's mind.  Her 18x-great-grandfather Thomas Lord Berkeley (we weren't shown when she was told about this format for his name, which makes it a rather large non sequitur) was holding the king's father as a prisoner.  Just what was going on?  Why was the king's father imprisoned?

Given-Wilson begins his explanation by stating that the king's father, Edward II, had been a "remarkably bad king."  A few months before he was installed at Berkeley Castle, he had been forced to abdicate the throne.

Isabella of France

The narrator provides more details.  Edward II ascended the throne in 1307.  He married Isabella of France, and for ten years things were going well.  Eventually, however, Isabella grew to hate Edward because of his losses at war and his lack of leadership.  He picked battles with the nobility by having favorites.  The nobles were united in their hatred of one particular favorite, Hugh Despenser the Younger.  Despenser used his influence with the king to gain land and wealth.

Returning to Given-Wilson, he says that the reason Despenser was a favorite of Edward was because he was very good with finances, and he managed Edward's money well.  Isabella hated Despenser, however, to the point that one chronicler wrote she "loathed Hugh Despenser with a more than perfect hatred."  (Now that's pretty extreme.)

The narrator comes in again to tell us that the hostility toward Edward and Hugh eventually led to war in 1321.  Queen Isabella sided against the king and joined with Roger Mortimer, who was rumored to be her lover.  In 1327 Isabella and Mortimer's forces overthrew the king.

Given-Wilson explains that Mortimer took power for himself after the coup.  Cox recalls that the name Mortimer appeared in her family tree.  Given-Wilson, who has his own copy of the ten-generation scroll (because Cox didn't bring it with her), unrolls it to show that yes, indeed, there is a Mortimer in the tree:  Thomas de Berkeley's wife was Margaret Mortimer.  And Margaret was the daughter of none other than Roger Mortimer.  So by holding Edward II prisoner, Berkeley was helping his father-in-law.

Cox's mind is blown again.  Her 19x-great-grandfather, Roger Mortimer, helped overthrow the king.  Her 18x-great-grandfather, Thomas de Berkeley, then assisted after the fact.  Mortimer obviously trusted Berkeley.

But why was Mortimer the one ruling?  The new king, Edward III, was still only a boy.  This means that his mother, Isabella, was officially ruling (probably as regent).  Since she was colluding with Mortimer, he was able to do what he wanted.

Isabella of France with
Roger Mortimer (15th century)

Cox asks about Hugh Despenser:  Didn't he try to get Edward II out?  Given-Wilson answers that no, he wasn't able to, because he had been executed during the war.  He brings out a copy of a painting that shows Isabella and Mortimer standing together in front of an army.  In the background, on what looks like a pyre with fire behind it, Despenser is being emasculated.  Given-Wilson says that parts of Despenser's body that were cut off or cut out were thrown into the fire.

After assimilating this new piece of information, Cox asks how Edward II died.  Given-Wilson asks if she would like to look at his cell.  The two walk into the castle courtyard, and Given-Wilson points to a particular window on an upper story, saying that was where Edward was imprisoned.  After asking Cox if she would like to go up and look at the room — of course she says yes — they walk toward that wing.

Edward II's room/cell

Once inside, they discuss the fact that Edward II was a prisoner in the room for five and a half months.  He also is supposed to have died there.  Cox wants to know how.  Given-Wilson says that there were many rumors about his death.  Isabella and Mortimer maintained that he had died a natural death, of course.  Authors of the historical chronicles (a specialty of Given-Wilson) thought they knew.  Much of the information in the chronicles is accurate, but rumors and unproven claims appear also.  Some of the chronicles say Edward died a natural death, while others say he was suffocated.  One chronicle, conveniently ready on a table in the room, has another version, which Given-Wilson has Cox read.  (I have to admit, I was impressed by how fluidly she read the Middle English.  I don't know if she was coached ahead of time or what was going on.  Maybe she was reading from a transcription?)

What was aired skipped around from one spot to another; I've transcribed the entire passage below.  Sorry for the lack of original spelling from the document.  It took me long enough to transliterate it into modern English.

-- >< -- >< -- >< -- >< --

Bradley de la More
—bla E2
— fol : 127

The said late king was shut up in a close chamber, where with the –– of dead rats[?] laid in a cellar under him, he was miserably tormented many days together and nigh suffocated therewith, the pain being almost intolerable unto him; but that not sufficing to hasten his death, which was desired and covertly commanded by the Queen and her fautores[?] [supporters], the said John Maltravers and Thomas de Burnay and their accomplices, rushed in the night time into his chamber, and with great and heavy featherbeds smothered him, thrusting a hollow instrument like the end of a trumpet or glisterpipe into his fundament, and through it a red hot iron up into his bowels, whereby he ended his life, with a lamentable loud –– heard by many both in town and castle ——

-- >< -- >< -- >< -- >< --

According to Given-Wilson, the methods described by this chronicler would have left no visible marks on the outside of Edward's body.  It's a lurid description, but it was commonly believed at the time to be true.  Given-Wilson's personal opinion is that Edward was suffocated.

Why was this done?  In early 1327 Mortimer heard of a plot to free Edward from his prison.  It appeared that Mortimer and Isabella had Edward killed to prevent an escape.

Cox wonders how big of a deal it was to have the king in your home.  Obviously, it was a huge deal.  And if the king was killed while he was in your home, yes, you would fall under suspicion.  It was the highest treason to be involved in the death of a king in this manner.  The king was anointed by God, so an act against him was an act against God and the kingdom.

Cox realizes that someone in her family, whether Mortimer or Berkeley, had the King of England killed.  It wasn't looking good for either man.

Given-Wilson points out to Cox that people did not like Mortimer, who was a bully.  By the fall of 1330, Edward III was 17 years old and tired of listening to Mortimer.  He had Mortimer arrested and launched a parliamentary investigation into Edward II's death.  The investigation included both Mortimer and Berkeley.  Isabella was removed from power and placed under house arrest but was not investigated.  To find out what happened, Cox will have to go to Westminster, the home of parliament.

As she leaves, Cox says that she had hoped her story would not be run-of-the-mill or boring, and obviously this isn't.  With her 19x- and 18x-great-grandfathers suspected of killing Edward II, probably one of them actually did it.

Cox's guide at Westminster Palace is Anthony Musson, a Medieval historian at the University of Exeter.  He tells her that Westminster is an 11th-century building and oldest surviving part of the Medieval palace.  The king would have held court at the far end of the hall they are standing in; he would have been flanked by his senior advisors and administrative council.

After Cox gives a recap of her story to this point, Musson says that Roger Mortimer was bound and gagged, and then brought in.  For the crime of which he was accused, the death penalty would be the sentence.  Cox wants to know if he had a fair trial.  Musson has copies of the trial proceedings for her to look at.

Mortimer was tried first.  The original document with information about his trial must be in poor condition, as the copy was dark, blotchy, and almost impossible to read.  Musson points out that the document was written in Medieval French, French being the language of government.  He reiterates that Mortimer was bound and gagged.  He was accused of taking power and of murder; these accusations would have been read aloud in the hall.  As he was gagged, he couldn't answer, so Cox concludes it wasn't fair, and Musson agrees it wasn't a "proper" trial.  He indicates one area on the page but then offers a typed translation:

-- >< -- >< -- >< -- >< --

. . . render just and lawful judgment on the said Roger as is appropriate for such a person to have who is truly guilty of all the above noted crimes, as he understands . . . and particularly the article touching the death of the lord Edward, the father of our present lord the king. . . . awarded and adjudged that the said Roger be drawn and hanged as a traitor and an enemy of the king and of the realm. . . . which execution was done and carried out on Thursday following the first day of parliament, which was 29 November.

-- >< -- >< -- >< -- >< --

(More of this translation, and a citation for it, can be read in this thesis on pages 240–241.)

It's clear that Mortimer was gone.  What happened to Berkeley?

Berkeley was tried the same day as Mortimer.  Musson brings out another copy, but this one is much more legible.  Berkeley had a more proper trial, and he was judged not guilty.  Musson also has another typed translation for Cox and asks her to read just the first paragraph, but she reads from the entire thing anyway.

(I was unable to get the entire text, because the full page was shown quickly and not fully in focus.  This version is not the translation used on the program, but it can be read in its entirety and allows you to see what was omitted for the program.)

-- >< -- >< -- >< -- >< --

Against Thomas of Berkeley

Thomas of Berkeley, knight, come before the king and his full aforesaid parliament. . . . safekeeping of Thomas . . . to be kept in the castle of Gloucester, and was murdered and killed in the same . . . .

He wishes to acquit himself of the death of the same king, and says that he was never an accomplice [six missing words] in his death, nor did he ever know of his murder until this present parliament.

And on this it was asked of him, that since he is lord of the aforesaid castle, and the same lord king was delivered into the keeping of Thomas . . . to be kept safely . . . that he should be answerable for the death of the king.   And the aforesaid Thomas says . . . that at the time when it is said the lord king was murdered and killed he was detained with such and so great an illness outside the aforesaid castle at Bradley that he remembers nothing of this.

-- >< -- >< -- >< -- >< --

Both Cox and Musson agree that Lord Berkeley "doth protest too much."  But what did parliament think of his protestations?  The jurors apparently gave him the benefit of the doubt and decided he was not guilty:

-- >< -- >< -- >< -- >< --

[. . .] therefore the jurors came thereupon before the lord king in his parliament at Westminster . . . who say on their oath that the aforesaid Thomas of Berkeley is not guilty of the death of the aforesaid lord king Edward . . . And because the aforesaid Thomas placed keepers and officials under him, namely Thomas de Burney and William Ogle [Ockley], to carry out the keeping of the lord king, by whom the same lord king was murdered and killed, a day was given to him before the present king in the next parliament to hear his judgment etc.

-- >< -- >< -- >< -- >< --

Musson points out to Cox that if Berkeley had been found guilty, she wouldn't be here.  (We saw earlier that Cox's ancestor, Maurice de Berkeley, was born in 1333, and the trial took place in 1330.)  She seems startled to realize this.

Musson then tells Cox that the story is not finished.  Thomas' son Maurice married Elizabeth de Spenser (which we saw previously) — and she was the daughter of Hugh Despenser the Younger, making Hugh another of Cox's 18x-great-grandfathers.  But wait a minute — wasn't Despenser executed by Isabella and Mortimer, and therefore on the side against Berkeley?  Why would Berkeley's son marry the daughter of his enemy?  Musson tells her she must find the answer to that question at the College of Arms.

And so Cox travels to the College of Arms, where she meets Peter O'Donoghue, credited here as the York Herald (whereas on the Valerie Bertinelli episode his credit read Herald of Arms, and his Wikipedia entry says York Herald of Arms).  The first thing Cox asks O'Donoghue is why Maurice de Berkeley would marry Hugh Despenser's daughter.  The answer, not unexpectedly, is politics.  Berkeley wanted power, and the Despensers were still well placed.  The marriage would actually have helped both sides.

Edward I effigy

O'Donoghue shows Cox a family tree that includes the Despensers.  Even though right at the top it has "Edward the 1st King of England" in large writing, the camera pans down, and Cox has to pretend not to notice it yet (or maybe she really didn't see it; either way, this could have been edited better).  O'Donoghue starts with the marriage of Maurice Lord Berkeley to Elizabeth de Spenser and goes back one generation to Elizabeth's parents.  They were Hugh De Spenser junior, Lord Despenser, beheaded 1326, and Eleanor, daughter and coheir, died 1337.  He mentions that the marriage was arranged by Eleanor's grandfather and then traces a line to that man as shown on the chart (skipping over Eleanor's parents, Clare Earl of Hertfod, died at Monmouth December 1296, and Joan of Acre [Edward II's sister]):  Edward I.

This is another mind-blower for Cox.  Her 20x-great-grandfather was the king of England!  She is going to call the family about this!  O'Donoghue points out (as he did on the Bertinelli episode, because that's the same king to whom he traced her ancestry) that Edward I was one of the very best Medieval kings:  charismatic, exciting, and an all-around great guy (except for that bad habit of expelling Jews, of course).

William the
Conqueror

Unlike Bertinelli's lineage, where O'Donoghue stopped with Edward I, he tells Cox that there's another manuscript for her to look at.  This one follows the ancestry of Edward I.  We skip past a few generations and go to Henry I, who was Cox's 25x-great-grandfather.  Going back one more generation, O'Donoghue points out a circle on the manuscript, but Cox has trouble reading all of it.  It says "William Bastard Son of Robert Conqueror of England", who was Cox's 26x-great-grandfather.  She seems taken aback because she actually remembers learning in school about the year 1066 and the conquest of England.

In the wrap-up, Cox comments that everyone will pay more attention to history after this.  She is amazed to have learned that her 19x-great-grandfather killed Edward II.  She's much more interested in Medieval times now.  History is a living thing:  If even one thing had occurred differently, she might not be here.

She's still coming to terms with the fact that William the Conquerer was her 26x-great-grandfather.  She remembers the year 1066 from school and was sure she couldn't be descended from royalty.  She's really looking forward to telling her family about what she has learned.

This episode was a great illustration of how many descendants royal monarchs can have.  I'm sure it has been several generations since anyone in Cox's family had any idea William the Conqueror was their ancestor.  The flip side of that, however, is that once you have the first important name, the rest of the information is all over the Web.  It took some effort to drag out the revelations and fill the episode, although seeing the original documents is still cool, at least to me.

The episode also demonstrated one problem that WDYTYA is running into:  bigger and better hooks for stories.  We have already seen Valerie Bertinelli get excited about learning her ancestor was King Edward I, so how does the show top that?  Ok, this time they take it back a few more generations to William the Conqueror.  Obviously, O'Donoghue knows that anyone descended from Edward I is also descended from William the Conqueror, but that was not shown on the Bertinelli episode.  I suspect he told her but that it wasn't included in what was aired just so that they could show it in a future episode with another descendant.  Maybe this will encourage them to showcase more celebrities with ancestors not from England?  Or for the next descendant of Edward I and William the Conqueror, we'll go back to their Norman roots?

It's always been amusing how often the celebrities on this program just "happen" to mention at the beginning something that turns up later in the episodes, yet the show insists that they are not told ahead of time what the information is.  I don't know why I've been so dense about how they are doing this or why it finally dawned on me with this episode.  I suspect that the featured celebrity is asked several different questions in the intro, and the only ones shown in the final edit are those that match the storyline.

*Tomasz Steifer (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/) or CC BY 2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons
**David Stowell [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons 

"Who Do You Think You Are?" - Tom Bergeron

I made it!  This is the last episode for the most recent season of Who Do You Think You Are?  And I'm even including a small amount of commentary on the "Into the Archives" filler episode.  I'm all caught up now, at least for a while.

The lead-in for this episode says that Tom Bergeron will follow the dramatic trail of his father's French family, including a young family that endured starvation and religious persecution.  He will be moved by the actions of one of his ancestors, who was brave enough to leave France behind.

Bergeron is a two-time Emmy Award-winning television host.  He began as a disc jockey in radio but by 1998 was the host of Hollywood Squares (well after the days of Paul Lynde, unfortunately).  He gained some measure of fame as the host of America's Funniest Home Videos (a program on which a good friend of mine worked, in the Bob Saget days) and now is known for Dancing with the Stars, where he is in his tenth season.  He divides his time between Los Angeles and Portsmouth, New Hampshire.  He lives with Lois, his wife of 33 years, and their two daughters.

Bergeron begins by telling us that he grew up in New England with what he considers to have been a typical family life.  His mother was Mary Catherine Costello; his father was Adrian Raymond Bergeron, Jr.  He went to Catholic grade school for eight years.  His was the classic family:  father, mother, brother, sister, and a pet.  As far as he knows, he is Irish on his mother's side and French on his father's.

He spent more time with his father's family growing up.  He knew one of his great-great-grandparents (lucky him!):  His father's grandmother was called "Mi-me" (or at least that's the closest I can come to approximating his pronunciation without using diacritical marks), which Bergeron thinks might be French for "grandmother."  He has no idea what her actual name was.

Bergeron thinks that his family went from France to Canada and then to the United States.  He apparently has already discovered that looking for family history can be like driving in a fog.  Growing up, his family didn't talk much about about their history.  Now he is interested in learning how the Bergerons came to the United States, what they went through, and about them as people.

Bergeron begins his journey of following the trail of bread crumbs by meeting with Kyle Betit at the Portsmouth Public Library, probably not far from his home.  Betit has built a family tree on Ancestry.com for him to look at.  (We, however, do not really get to look at it; there are few camera shots, and they go by quickly.)  We start with Bergeron himself:  Thomas "Tom" Raymond Bergeron, born May 6, 1955 in Haverhill, Essex County, Massachusetts.  We move from him straight to "Mi-me", who it turns out was Marie Azilda "Memere" (mémère translates to "old woman" and is French Canadian for "grandma") Gaudrault, born December 27, 1883 in Les Eboulemonts, Charlevoix, Québec, Canada; died September 23, 1977 in Haverhill.  Bergeron is surprised at the name Marie; he never knew what her name was.  There is a small amount of discussion about the fact that the French in Québec are almost all Catholic.  We see glimpses of a few more names:  Moses (Moïse) Bergeron; Michel Bergeron, born 1842, died 1929; Joseph Bergeron, born 1804, died 1883.  The camera zooms in on Marie-Josèphe Vanasse dit Précourt (but no discussion about dit names).

Bergeron wonders when his father's side of the family came from France, and Betit directs him to look at Suzanne Rabouin, born November 23, 1655, died 1755.  She was the daughter of Bergeron's 9th-great-grandmother Marguerite Ardion, born 1636–1640 in La Rochelle, France, died unknown (yeah, sure it's unknown).  She married Jean Rabouin in 1663; he was also born in La Rochelle.  Bergeron finds this information intriguing and asks if they met in France and then came over.  Betit, who apparently is trained to lie on camera (which makes him a better actor than Kelly Clarkson), says, "In this case we don't know."  (Sure, you don't.)

Now that Bergeron knows who his first French ancestors were to come to the New World, he wants to know the next step.  Betit recommends he continue his search in La Rochelle, of course.

As Bergeron departs, he's already having a good time but is wondering why his 9th-great-grandparents went to Canada, whether they knew each other in France, who were the parents of his 9th-great-grandmother (what about his 9th-great-grandfather?), and whether they were upset when she left.  That sounds like an interesting list of beginning questions to me.

As he drives around in La Rochelle (I noticed he did his own driving everywhere), Bergeron says he wants to find out why Marguerite would leave for Canada.  He's impressed by the feeling of real history in the city, that you can sense thousands of years gone by.  He is likely seeing the same buildings that Marguerite saw when she was a child there.  He goes to the La Rochelle archives (La Charente-Maritime Archives Départementales), where historian Kevin C. Robbins of Indiana University suggested they meet.  The first thing Robbins has Bergeron do is put on a pair of the infamous white conservator's gloves.  Then out comes a 1623 register of notary contracts; Robbins knows that this particular notary worked primarily with Protestants.  There is a marriage contract for Ardion and Soret, Marguerite's parents.

Bergeron admits immediately, "I can't even pretend to read any of this."  Conveniently, Robbins has a translation handy.  Before they get around to the contract, there's discussion of the fact that the Reformed religion (Protestant, but specifically Huguenot) was typical for La Rochelle at the time; about 80% of the city was Protestant.  The Catholic kings of France were suspicious of Protestants, and Protestants thought that the church was corrupt, greedy, and focused on money (well, you can't fault them on that).

February 1623 registration of marriage
of Pierre Ardyon and Suzane Soret
(their names are just above the
signature at the bottom)

The mariage contract, dated January 5, 1623, was between Pierre Ardion, a master stonemason native to La Rochelle (whose father Jehan, "in his lifetime" [suggesting he was already deceased], was a wholesale fish broker), and Suzanne Soret (daughter of the late — [I couldn't see the name] and of Marie Simon], also a native of the city.  Pierre Ardion, being a master stonemason, probably helped build many of the La Rochelle buildings Bergeron had earlier been admiring.

And what was in the future for this newly wedded couple?  This was a period of growing tension.  The Catholic kings had been hunting down the Protestant community.

The narrator tells us that the French Royal Army tried to take La Rochelle in 1572 but failed.  After this, Protestants in the city minted their own coins and ran their own municipal government, and many of them prospered.  King Louis XIII, who came to power in the early 1600's, considered the city a threat to Catholic control and decided to make an example of it.

In 1627, royal forces of the Catholic king surrounded La Rochelle for another siege.  To learn more about what happened, Robbins directs Bergeron to a colleague who specializes in the military situation in that period.  In the meantime, Robbins "intend[s] to pursue" more research on "what happened to Marguerite" and will let Bergeron know what he finds.  (Have you noticed there's no more mention of the 9th-great-grandfather?)

Bergeron says this is the first day he is starting to see the silhouette of his ancestor through the haze.  As she becomes more real to him, he is becoming more emotionally invested in the search.

la tour Saint-Nicolas

The next stop on the La Rochelle tour is the Tour Saint-Nicolas (Saint Nicholas Tower), which stands at the mouth of the city's harbor.  Bergeron wants to learn what happened to Marguerite's parents during the siege.  Greeting Bergeron at the tower is Erik Thomson, a historian of early modern Europe (the 17th century is "early modern"?)  at the University of Manitoba.  Thomson begins the history lesson by saying that in August 1627, the army had surrounded La Rochelle.  Between 25,000 and 30,000 soldiers constituted the army, while as many as 20,000 residents of La Rochelle remained in the city to face the siege.  The city's defenses were made of stone, so Pierre Ardion would have been an important person for keeping them in good repair.

map of La Rochelle showing
the second, outer, wall

The army built a second wall some distance from the city's original wall.  The plan was to surround the city, cut it off, and starve the residents.  A dike was built to close off the harbor mouth to remove access to the sea and complete the outer circle.  Louis XIII intended to choke the life out of La Rochelle.  The people in the city were aware of the situation and knew they were being starved to death.

By the spring of 1628 things were looking pretty bleak for the town.  Thomson has a translation of an account written by Pierre Mervault, who survived the siege:  A Journal of the Last Siege of the City of Rochel, Begun the 20 of July 1627.  The original book (in French) was printed in the 17th century.  Bergeron reads two short sections.  (The translation style is . . . interesting.)

At this time the necessity, which was horrible, obliged divers to seek ways and means to pass the Line, others to scatter themselves in Vineyards, to gather even but Virgin Grapes, and some to render themselves willingly.  It was now published in the Camp, upon pain of death, not to suffer them to approach the Line, nor to take Prisoners any that should come out of Rochel, but by Musket-shot force them to return within their Counterscarp and Ports, from whence many were killed, choosing whether to finish their lives by a Musket-Bullet, than to return home to die there miserable of Famine:  And many Women and Maids of the common people, going into the Vineyards, were violated, and beaten with Forks, and shafts of Halberts; then stripped as naked as when they came from the Wombs of their Mothers, and so sent back to the City; and in this sort I have seen some return:  But to meet them, other Women went to carry them Gard-robes and Cloaks to cover their nakedness.

While reading this section Bergeron comments on how some people were committing suicide by deliberately choosing to walk out where the soldiers will shoot them.  He is also struck by the fact that the royal army was raping and beating women.  In the second section, things aren't going any better.

October 19, 1628
Now the Famine increased dreadfully, nothing being left, the greatest number having in three Months time not known what Bread was, nor any thing of ordinary Provisions, Flesh of Horses, Asses, Mules, Dogs, Cats, Rats and Mice, were all eaten up; there was no more Herbs or Snails left in the Fields, so that their recourse was to Leather, Hides of Oxen, skins of Sheep, Cinamon, Cassia, Liquorish out of Apothecaries Shops, Flemish, holewort frigased, Bread of Straw made with a little Sugar, Flower of Roots, Irish Powder, Belly of the skin of Beasts and Sheep, Horns of Deer beaten to Powder, old Buff Coats, soles of shoes, Boots, Aprons of Leather, Belts for Swords, old Pockets, Leather Points, Parchment, wood beaten in a Mortar, Plaster, Earth, Dung (which I have seen with my own eyes) Carrion, and Bones that the Dogs had gnawn, and indeed all that came in their sight, though such food gave rather death than sustenance, or prolongation of it, from whence there passed not a day that there died not two or three hundred, or more persons, of such sort, that not only the church-yards, but then the Houses, Streets, and out-parts of the City were in a little time filled with dead bodies, without having other Sepulchres than the places where they fell, the living not having so much — (and I couldn't read the end)

Bergeron exclaims, "They were eating leather?!"  He is astounded and horrified by what the king was doing to the population of La Rochelle.

It becomes obvious that La Rochelle had to surrender.  When it did so, only about 5,000 people were left.  The siege had killed three quarters of the population.  Obviously, Pierre and Suzanne survived (because from what we saw earlier, Marguerite's birth wasn't until the 1630's).  In profound contrast to the detailed description of the siege, everything in the city looks perfectly normal now.

Bergeron is somewhat subdued after the revelation of what his 10th-great-grandparents survived.  We see him apparently the next day, because while he is surprised at how emotional his reaction is to their circumstances, he wonders what he will learn "today" and asks, "Haven't I been through enough?"  Even though he knows his ancestors have been dead for hundreds of years, he hopes things went well for them.

Kevin Robbins has returned with some "newly discovered" information and has arranged to meet Bergeron at the Médiathèque in La Rochelle (it appears to be part of the public library system).  Bergeron is hoping that Robbins has the next chapter in his search.  Robbins starts with a book of baptisms from November 1632–July 1638 (and something else, but I couldn't read the rest of the very aged handwriting on the cover), and since we were shown at the beginning of the episode that Marguerite was born 1636–1640, I was expecting her baptism to be shown.  Indeed, I was not disappointed.  In the church of Villeneuve, the only Protestant (i.e., Huguenot) church still allowed by the king, Marguerite Ardion, daughter of Pierre, was baptized August 11, 1636, eight years after the siege was over.  (I looked several times for Marguerite's baptism, and I just can't find it in the La Rochelle records that are online.  If someone else finds it, please let me know!)

Burial registration of Pierre Ardion,
47 years old

Bergeron wants to fill in more of the gaps between Marguerite's birth and her travel to Québec, and Robbins replies, "That's why we're here."  He has more documents!  Next we see the book of burials for 1631–1647 for the Villeneuve cemetery in La Rochelle.  Pierre Ardion was buried December 31, 1641; they say he was 50 years old (but the burial record says 47).  (I realized about this time that Robbins had not been providing Bergeron with translations, as is customary for WDYTYA, but rather was reading all of the entries to him.  I wonder why they did it differently for this episode.)

The men discuss that after Pierre died, Suzanne would have been in a difficult position.  As a single mother, she probably would have faced the need to work.  (Why wouldn't she remarry?  Was that not common among the Huguenot community in La Rochelle at this time?  And based on the discussion, I have to assume that Pierre must not have had much money, even though he was a master stonemason, though that might be partly due to lingering aftereffects of the siege.)  After talking about this, Robbins takes out a book of deaths from 1647–1658.  Bergeron definitely seems more on the ball than a lot of the celebrities we've seen on this program.  Not only is he able to read the cover, he asks, "Now we're gonna find out when mom died, right?"  And then they cut to a commercial.

Burial registration of Suzanne Soret,
50 years old

On returning to the program we learn that Bergeron is correct.  Suzanne Soret ("the widow Ardion") was buried in July 1650.  Marguerite was an orphan at 14 years old.  Bergeron thinks of his own two daughters and what things would have been like if they had had to fend for themselves when they were 14.  Going back to Marguerite, her best-case scenario would have been having extended family who could incorporate her into their household.  We don't learn how she handled that, however.  The first document the researchers were able to find for Marguerite after her mother died is in a book with the title "Liste des protestant convertit ..." for 1655–1661.  Again, Bergeron is able to get the gist of the French and realizes it's a list of conversions; did Marguerite become Catholic before she went to the New World?  And indeed, Marguerite, an unmarried woman, age 23, converted to the Catholic faith on January 1, 1659.  There would have been a lot of pressure on her (and on all the remaining Huguenots in La Rochelle) to convert.  She probably had fewer options than many others, though.

The next book is particularly fragile, and Robbins handles it very carefully.  (Then why handle it just for an entertainment program??!!)  It is another book of marriages; it includes a contract for the marriage between Marguerite and Laurent Baudet on January 12, 1659.  This comes as a shock:  Marguerite was married before she married Bergeron's 9th-great-grandfather in Québec?  The translation shows that Baudet was a shoemaker from La Rochelle, son of the late Simon Baudet, who was a stevedore; Marguerite is identified as the daughter of the late Pierre Ardion.  Baudet was illiterate; instead of a signature, he made his mark.  Bergeron turns to the camera, breaks the fourth wall, and exclaims, "You can do better, Marguerite!"  Looking at the dates, Marguerite converted less than two weeks before her marriage.  It seems pretty clear that the conversion was done only so she could marry; she was a survivor and did what she needed to do.

Robbins points out a marginal note:  A son, Laurent Beaudet, was baptized on February 21, 1662.  (Unfortunately, I couldn't find the Beaudet records either.)  Of course, Bergeron hasn't heard about this child and can't imagine Marguerite would have taken such a small infant with her on the cross-Atlantic journey.  Robbins says he looked but could not find a death or burial registration for either of the two Laurents.  Bergeron asks where he should go next, and Robbins tells him to investigate Marguerite in Québec.  As the two men part, Bergeron says, "Merci," and Robbins responds, "Je vous en prie" ("You're welcome.").  I was pleasantly surprised at how good Bergeron's French pronunciation was, such as when saying Québec and Suzanne (and far, far better than the mangling that Melissa Etheridge did).  Sometimes he sounded better than Robbins.

While driving, Bergeron says he was not expecting so many tragedies on top of what Marguerite's parents had experienced during the siege.  He hopes Marguerite had a happy ending with Jean in Québec.  He drives by some wall art of a young girl who looks like a hitchhiker; she is carrying a suitcase that has "La Rochelle Québec" printed on the side.  Is that what graffiti looks like in La Rochelle?

In beautiful Québec City, Bergeron heads to the National Archives of Québec (which is an interesting turn of phrase, considering that Québec is not a nation).  He wants to find Marguerite's marriage to his 9th-great-grandfather, which had to have taken place between 1662–1663.  Archivist Peter J. Gagné of the Musée de la civilisation of Québec City is waiting to meet him.  Bergeron sees white conservator's gloves and knows he's going to learn things.

Gagné shows Bergeron something, which he correctly guesses is a marriage contract.  Bergeron recognizes Marguerite and Jean's names and even the date, October 17, 1663 (by this point I was pretty sure that Bergeron has a good working knowledge of French).  Gagné hands him a translation and he says, "Thank you.  These have been very helpful."  (I really enjoyed his wry sense of humor.)  The marriage contract stated that Marguerite was a widow from her first marriage to Beaudet.  Bergeron asks if that means Beaudet died in La Rochelle.  All Gagné can tell him is that there is no mention of Beaudet in Québec records.

Registration of October 28, 1663 marriage of Jean Rabouin and Marguerite Ardion

The marriage contract also mentions Marguerite's 16-month-old son — he survived! — and that Jean Rabouin agreed to "retain and provide lodging, nourishment and catechism" and generally to take care of the child until he reached the age of reason (which might have been 15 years old, but they didn't show that entire section).  So the contract somewhat functioned as an adoption.  Bergeron is thrilled that something good had finally happened to Marguerite.  He is surprised, however, that Rabouin would marry a widow with a son and promise to take care of the child.  He says that Marguerite has "been through a shit [bleeped out] storm!" but is glad that she had the courage to make the trip.

Gagné now turns to an important history lesson.  The fact that Marguerite came to Canada in 1663 with nothing, and that Rabouin was willing to accept responsibility for her son as part of the marriage contract, most likely means that Marguerite was a fille du roi, or a "daughter of the king" (and if she was, then by extension, her first husband had to be dead before she left, or she couldn't have come as a fille).  (What Gagné doesn't discuss, at least not from what we saw, is that he is pretty much the authority on the filles du roi.  He wrote a two-volume work which has biographies on all of the filles, so Marguerite must be in there.)  Until 1863, there was a significant imbalance in the number of men and women in New France, with about six to ten times more men than women.

The narrator steps in to elaborate.  From 1663–1673 the French crown arranged for and funded about 800 unmarried women to immigrate to New France.  They were known as the filles du roi because the travel expenses were paid by the king's treasury.  Marguerite was among the first group of women sent.  Their job was to marry, have children, and help create a sustainable colony for France.

Bergeron suggests this was analogous to an arranged marriage, but Gagné corrects him.  The fille could choose her own husband.  In the economics of supply and demand, she had the supply, and she could demand what she wanted.  For Marguerite, this meant that she could stipulate that her husband-to-be accept and provide for her son from her first marriage.  Women held negotiating power, which was unprecedented for the time.  The program was very successful, and many (most?) of the women had large families.

But wait, Bergeron wants even more.  How can he find out about Marguerite's children?  Gagné says he needs to go to Nôtre Dame de Québec (hey, maybe Bergeron will run into Bryan Cranston there!), where he has a colleague who can be of assistance.

Bergeron finds it powerful to learn that Marguerite's baby survived.  He can appreciate that Marguerite was a strong woman:  He is married to a strong woman, and both of his daughters are strong.  He's starting to like Marguerite a lot.

Baptismal record for Jacques Rabouin

In the Nôtre Dame archives, Bergeron works with Ann Little of Colorado State University.  They start off with baptismal records, of which we see only one:  Jacques Rabouin, who was baptized October 7, 1675.  Bergeron is thrilled to find out that Marguerite had at least one more son.  When Jacques was born, she was about 39 years old.  If she was still having children at that age, she must have been healthy.  She was a good fille du roi.

The next item Little shows is an estate inventory dated September 6, 1679, which suggests someone had died.  She provides only the translation; we don't see the original.  Jean Rabouin was listed as the widower, so Marguerite had died by the age of 43.  Rabouin was the guardian of the following minors:  Marie, 16 years old; Suzanne, 14; Marguerite, 12; Izabel, 10; Anne, 9; Magdelene (7, though not stated on air); and Jacques, 4 (the child whose baptism we saw).  (The baptismal records for Jacques and all six girls are available online, as is the record for at least one more child.  Birthdates:  Marie, April 12, 1664; Suzanne, November 23, 1665; Marguerite, August 25, 1667; Izabel [Elisabeth], August 27, 1669; Anne, May 16, 1671; Magdelene, July 25, 1673; and Marie Angelique, September 28, 1677, who does not appear to have survived to 1679.)  The number of children surprises Bergeron.  (Marguerite's first son, Laurent, is not discussed, but if he was still alive, he would have been about 17, so he possibly wasn't considered a minor, Rabouin probably was not legally responsible for him anymore, and he wasn't covered by the guardianship.)

Church bells ring in the background, and Little turns her head to listen to them (possibly concerned that they might interfere with the taping?).  Bergeron jumps in and says, "The bells are tolling for Marguerite right now."  This man is quick on his feet.

Marguerite died at the Hôtel Dieu, which is not a hotel, as Bergeron thinks, but a hospital.  She probably died of an infectious disease.

The last document Little has is a map of landowners, on which Jean Rabouin's name appears.  The map is of a large island (Île d'Orléans) in the St. Lawrence River, about five miles out of Québec City.  It was the site of some of the initial colonization of the area.  Bergeron is excited:  "We get to go there!"  Little adds that he should visit Ancestral Park, which has a monument to the founders of Québec.  She points out to him that his family is special because he is a descendant of a fille du roi, the Canadian equivalent of being a Mayflower descendant.

Bergeron appears to be surprised and says that he was so focused on Jean Rabouin (really?  the entire episode has been about Marguerite's family; besides, he started out wanting to know about the Bergerons) he hadn't been thinking about how important Marguerite was.  Now he's blown away and says that Marguerite has emotionally taken root for him.

On his way to Île d'Orléans, Bergeron is looking forward to walking the land where Marguerite lived with her children.  He now can appreciate what the filles meant to Québec.  At Ancestral Park (Parc des Ancêtres-de-l'Île-d'Orléans) he finds Jean and Marguerite's names on the founders monument (La mémorial des familles souches de l'île d'Orléans).  He then drives to where Rabouin's land was.  There's a lot of land (but it isn't clear how much of it actually belonged to Rabouin).  (When he got out of the car to walk around, I noticed that he was carrying his jacket, which seemed odd on such a sunny day.  Maybe the car didn't get to stay in that spot?)

Bergeron becomes philosophical at the end.  We learn from the past to improve and enrich the present.  He has been moved by the stories of his ancestors' lives and was more emotional than he had expected.  He's now proud to be a descendant of a fille du roi.  Even when your ancestors have been dead for more than 300 years, if you listen, you can still learn from them.  He had anticipated that this search was going to be more of an intellectual experience, but it's great that he opened up to the emotional side of what he learned.  He closes by saying that life doesn't play out as you think it will.

And to close this season's commentary, I have a little to say about the "Into the Archives" highlights episode, which I was able to watch before it disappeared from my On Demand listings.  As I had expected, even though the commercials had hyped the never-before-seen footage, most of what we saw was familiar.  Two scenes got my attention.  The first was one from the Julie Chen episode, where we learned that the reason her grandfather Lou Gaw Tong built the school in his hometown of Penglai was because his mother had been murdered by hooligans.  Lou felt that the reason this had happened was because children were not being educated and therefore did not feel they had anything to work toward.  This was a powerful scene; I wish it had been included in the full episode.

The second set of scenes that caught my eye came from the Valerie Bertinelli episode.  I noted a couple of times in my commentary that her ancestry through Edward I probably would go back to Charlemagne, but I hadn't found the information.  Well, guess what they did — the Herald of Arms, Peter O'Donoghue, took her ancestry back to William the Conqueror, and from him to Charlemagne!  I also found a handy page online listing royal descendants of Charlemagne; the first one on the page is the lineage of William the Conqueror.  So I really was right!  Additional scrolls extended the lineage back to Adam and Eve and then to God, but O'Donoghue said Bertinelli might not want to put too much faith in those.

"Who Do You Think You Are?" - Valerie Bertinelli

This is later than usual because I, being the geek that I am, rewatched the episode multiple times trying to catch every piece of information from the various family trees that were shown.  I still missed some bits because they didn't discuss them on screen and the camera didn't stay on them long enough for me to see everything.  It was interesting to see what they skipped over (but more on that later).

I have to admit, I was happy to finally see an episode of Who Do You Think You Are? this season with a celebrity I recognized.  I didn't feel quite as old and out-of-date.  The opening teaser mentioned royalty (I was thinking we'd find another trail to Charlemagne) and another murder (reminding me of my earlier comment that maybe all the celebrities this season would have murders in their backgrounds).  And in the opening sequence I noticed that a sixth celebrity has been added:  Minnie Driver.  I don't understand why it took until the fourth episode to add her, since she was announced as a substitute for Lauren Graham back in July, before the new season actually started.  Unfortunately, since Minnie Driver was featured in an episode of the UK Who Do You Think You Are?, I'm sure TLC will just take that episode and edit it down to make room for commercials, as NBC did with the Kim Cattrall episode.  And of course we still don't know why Lauren Graham's episode won't air (at least this season), though it's likely that the research team wasn't able to find everything they wanted in time.  On the other hand, maybe the research results just weren't as exciting as anticipated?

The introduction to Valerie Bertinelli explained she hit the big time with One Day at a Time and has also published memoirs and a cookbook of Italian family recipes.  Currently she is one of the stars of Hot in Cleveland (which, although it does have Bertinelli along with Betty White and Jane Leeves, whom I think are great actresses, I have not seen).  Bertinelli and her husband Tom live in Los Angeles, a few miles from her son Wolfie.

Bertinelli starts off by talking with Wolfie about her rolling pin, which used to belong to her Nonni (Italian for grandmother).  She remembers watching Nonni use it to make gnocchi, cappelletti, and other pasta.  (If she's the type of person to hold on to something like that, she really is a good candidate for a family history show.  Hooray!)  She was born in Wilmington, Delaware and grew up in Claymont, Delaware.  Her parents, Andrew Bertinelli and Nancy Carvin, married young and have been married more than 60 years.

Bertinelli knows more about her father's side of the family because she was around them.  Nonni was a baker and cook.  She died when Bertinelli was in her early 30's.  There are questions she didn't ask that now she wonders about, such as when and why Nonni left Italy and anything about Nonni's parents.  Bertinelli's mother embraced her father's side of the family, and consequently she doesn't know as much about her mother's side, so she wants to focus on it.  Apparently Nancy ran away when she was 16 years old (nothing else was said on that subject).  The family didn't talk much and some subjects were not brought up, such as where the family came from.  And Wolfie wants to know if there's a family crest (foreshadowing . . .).

Bertinelli starts her research by meeting with her parents.  They show a photo of Nancy with her parents, Lester Carvin and Elizabeth Adams Chambers.  Nancy was only 8 years old when her mother passed away.  Nancy says her older sister told her their mother was English.

Andrew's parents were Nazzareno and Angelina Rosa Bertinelli.  There's a photo of Nonni's mother and several women standing by a "specialità gelato" cart.  Andrew doesn't know who the other women are.  Nonni's mother's name was Maria Mancia Crosa, but Crosa was her first husband's name.  He was Giorgio Crosa.  Maria came to the U.S. after he died and married Mancia; they lived in Lackawanna County, Pennsylvania.  Nancy says the name as "Man-chee-uh", a common mistake with Italian pronunciation.

Bertinelli says that she needs more help with her mother's side and has asked a genealogist in England to research the Chambers and Carvin families.  She figures she has enough information to start on her father's side herself and decides to look for the family in the 1920 census on Ancestry.com.  Bertinelli searches (with no capital letters!) for "mancha."  (When I heard the name proncounced, I mentally spelled it as I thought it would be in Italian, i.e., Mancia.  Mancha is how you spell it in English to get the same pronunciation.)  She finds Gregorio Mancha, "Mary", Angelina (as Angeline), and a son named George.  Andrew comments that Giorgio was called George in English.

They decide that the next step should be for Bertinelli to go to Lackawanna County to find more information on the family.  (Funny how the Internet gets boring so quickly.)  She travels to the Lackawanna Historical Society in Scranton, Pennsylvania, commenting that she never talked about her father's grandmother and where she was from in Italy.  At the historical society she meets Marcella Bencivenni, a historian who focuses on Italian immigration, who says she has found some information.  She has deed book 382, which she has Bertinelli open to a deed dated April 14, 1931, where Maria Mancha, a widow, sells land in Jefferson Township, Lackawanna County, to Nazzareno and Angelina Bertinelli for $1.  The land is the same farm on which the family was living in the 1920 census.  Bertinelli wonders what happened to Gregorio, and Bencivenni tells her Gregorio died on April 9, 1931; one week later Maria gave the land to her daughter and son-in-law.  Bertinelli wants to know why.  Bencivenni says, "If we are lucky, we can find something in Newspapers.com about his death."  (With all the talent in Hollywood, this is the best scripting they can come up with?)  So Bertinelli searches for <gregorio mancha>, and they show an article from April 10 (actually the second hit; I did the same search) on the computer:  "Believing He Killed Wife, Cortez Man Takes Own Life; Wife Saves Self by Feigning Death."  And we cut to a commercial!  (In the article, his name is actually spelled Gorgia Mancia; maybe they've set up an "alternative" index entry so people can find it?)

Scranton Republican, April 10, 1931

On returning from the commercial, of course the article is the topic of discussion.  "Gorgia" Mancia was 47 years old.  Bertinelli wants to know why he shot Maria.  She looks honestly confused and is wiping away tears.  Bencivenni says that they may not be able to find the answer (translation:  the research team couldn't find the answer).  (A follow-up article, which was actually the first hit from the search, appeared in the same newspaper on April 11.  It stated that no reason was known to explain Gorgia Mancia's actions.  It also said that the only known relative in this country was Angelina.)   She has another document, however.  This is an obituary for Mary Mancia, from the Scranton Times of July 6, 1951.  It says she died in the hospital and that surviving relatives included her daughter, Angelina; son, George Crosa; and brother, Joseph Possio.  So now they have Maria's maiden name!

Bertinelli now wants to look for immigration information on Maria.  Bencivenni says she should look on Ancestry.com.  Bertinelli asks if she should look for Maria under her maiden name, and Bencivenni says yes, because she was a widow when she arrived here and more likely would have taken back her maiden name.  (What she should have explained, but maybe Ancestry and the program's producers didn't think was worth the time, is that in Italy a woman's "maiden" name is her legal name throughout her life.  Whether Maria was single, married, or widowed when she traveled to the U.S., her name would have been Possio.  It was only after living in the U.S. that she would have adopted the custom prevalent here, of using her husband's surname as her own.)

Bertinelli finds Maria Possio arriving on the Dante Alighieri on June 12, 1915 in New York.  She was born about 1879, from Lanzo, Torino, her race was "North" (as in Northern Italian), and her occupation was cook.  She was traveling with two children, Maddelena and Giorgio Crosa.  (Maddelena seems to be Angelina, but the difference in name is never brought up, much less explained.)  Bertinelli asks why Maria would leave Italy with two children in tow.  Bencivenni explains that World War I began in 1914, and on May 23, 1915 Italy entered the war, so Maria wanted to leave the war behind her.  Apparently Maria wasted no time, because her ship sailed on May 29.  (Could she really have gotten all of her paperwork, tickets, travel documents, money, everything in order in six days?  I don't think so.  She was obviously planning to emigrate well before Italy officially was in the war.  Other information gleaned from the ship manifest:  Maddelena/Angelina and Giorgio each applied for U.S. citizenship later, as evidenced by the handwritten numbers to the right of their names; Maria's contact in the U.S. was her brother; and someone must have met Maria and the children at the dock, because there is no note by their names indicating they were held as "likely public charges.")

Bertinelli asks how she can find out about Maria's life in Torino.  No surprise, Bencivenni tells her the only way is to fly to Italy and go to Lanzo.

And she goes to Lanzo, wanting to learn about Maria's first husband and hoping that maybe Maria had an easier life in Italy.  At the Lanzo library (Centro Biblioteche) Bertinelli meets Molly Tambor, an assistant professor of history at Long Island University.  Tambor has Maria's marriage record, which shows that Maria Francesca Possio married Francesco Crosa on June 30, 1910, when she was 31 years old.  Tambor first presents the record in Italian, then gives Bertinelli a translation; Bertinelli says she's going to have to learn Italian.  Maria and Francesco already had a daughter (Angelina), who was born April 27, 1908, and they declared her their legitimate daughter.  Bertinelli wonders how they could have had a child and then not married until two years later.  Tambor explains that a church wedding and a dowry, the latter of which would not have been uncommon at that time, were both expensive, so they were put off.  Giorgio was born after Maria and Francesco married.

So what happened to Francesco?  Tambor has a copy of his death certificate, with a translation.  He died on November 10, 1911 of myocarditis (not actually a heart attack, as Bertinelli says).  In 1912 Maria was working, explaining the photograph of her with the gelato cart.  Tambor comments that it was not common for a woman to work.  Bertinelli wonders if she might have been saving money to go to America (a good probability in my mind), and Tambor says that even if she hadn't been, the money she made would have funded the trip.  She adds that Lanzo is a small town, so she had asked if anyone knew about the Possio family and found someone to talk to.  She has already made arrangements for a meeting.  Bertinelli asks if maybe the person will recognize the people in the photograph, and Tambor tells her to bring it with her (I love these heavy-handed lead-ins).

Pietro's postcard

The next day, Bertinelli goes to the meeting that Tambor has set up.   The on-screen translation says that Pietro Possio is Bertinelli's third cousin; his grandfather was Maria's first cousin (which actually makes them third cousins once removed).  He speaks only in Italian, and Tambor appears to be the interpreter.  (I was proud of myself:  I was able to follow most of the Italian conversation!)  Possio has a postcard sent to his grandfather by Maria from Palermo, as she was leaving Italy for the United States (how cool!).  A translation has been prepared, of course.  She wrote the postcard at 10:00 in the morning and talked about how they were scheduled to leave at 9:00 in the evening and that everyone was fine.

They show Possio the photograph of Maria and the gelato cart.  He points out that the little girl on the left is Angelina (which is what Andrew had thought), and an older woman on the right is Maria's mother.  He then takes out a letter that his father, Francesco, sent to Angelina.  (But if the letter was mailed to Angelina, why does Pietro have a copy?)  Angelina was one year younger than Francesco.  He asked for Angelina's children to write and hoped their children would visit each other, and now that has been fulfilled (also very cool).

As she leaves, Bertinelli says that she has more answers now and that her father will be proud of his grandmother.  She's hoping that in London she'll find information on her mother's side of the family, so she can give Nancy the same type of gift.  And off she heads to England.

In London Bertinelli goes to the Society of Antiquaries, where she meets with Else Churchill of the Society of Genealogists.  Bertinelli says that she had never really thought about her English ancestry before and hopes Churchill will find some information for Nancy.  Churchill says she has found quite a bit of information and has created a family tree.  She adds that the information came from censuses and land records.

The tree begins with Bertinelli and goes to her parents, then to her mother's parents, Lester V. Carvin (born 1907 in Newark, Ohio; died 1984) and Elizabeth Adams Chambers (born 1907 in New Jersey; died after 1945).  It goes back and forth between following male and female lines.  Lester Carvin's parents, Bertinelli's great-great-grandparents, were Joseph Carvin (born 1874 in New Jersey; died after 1943) and Ida P. Gooden (born 1877 in New Jersey; died 1909).  Ida's parents were Jacob G. Gooden (born 1842 in New Jersey; died between 1910–1920) and Mary Emma Bishop (born 1858 in Gloucester County, New Jersey; died 1924).  Mary's parents were Benjamin Bishop (born 1828 in Gloucester County, New Jersey; died 1895) and Mary Claypoole (born 1831 in Gloucester County; died 1862; no comment was made about how young she was or that she died only a few years after her daughter was born).  I was a little surprised at the gaps in the research, especially for the 20th century; I know from personal experience New Jersey is not a friendly state when it comes to getting records, but I would have thought that all the money behind this research would have smoothed the way for the research team.  Maybe those missing pieces of information simply couldn't be resolved before the final edits for the episode but the team finished the research later?

At this point Churchill interrupts Bertinelli to comment on how when doing English genealogy one can come across a "gateway ancestor" — one from a well documented family that can link to already established family trees.  (As if only the English have gateway ancestors?)  She points out that Mary Claypoole is just such a gateway ancestor, because the Claypoole family is well known and documented.  We then go tripping merrily up the Claypoole family tree, talking only about the men.  We go from Mary, Bertinelli's 3x-great-grandmother, to her parents, John Claypoole (born 1795 in Cumberland County, New Jersey; died 1877) and Jane (not discussed on screen, but born 17XX in New Jersey; died 18XX).  John's parents were Wingfield (how's that for a given name?) Claypoole (born after 1755 in New Jersey; died about 1806) and Mary Poole (also not discussed; born about 17XX).  Wingfield's parents were John Claypoole (born 1714 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; died after 1770), who had no wife listed at all.  This John's parents were Joseph Claypoole (born 1677 in London, England; died 1744) and Rebecca Jennings (not discussed; born unknown; died 1713 [I think]).  And we stop at Joseph's parents, Bertinelli's 8th-great-grandfather, James Claypoole (born 1634 in England; died 1687) and his wife, Helena M—, also not discussed on screen (and difficult to read; I couldn't see the birth information, and death looked like 1688, but I'm not sure).

After hitting James, Churchill explains that the Claypooles are a well known line of Quakers in England.  Bertinelli asks how she can learn more about the family, and Churchill tells her the best place to go is the center for the history of Quakers in England, Friends House in London.

At Friends House Bertinelli meets Scott Stephenson, Ph.D., the director of collections at the Museum of the American Revolution (who apparently also specializes in Quaker research?).  She tells him that she has learned that her 8th-great-grandfather was James Claypoole, a Quaker.  He tells her a little about the history of the Quakers in England:  how they were persecuted and jailed for their beliefs because they went against the Church of England; in the 1680's more than 10,000 Quakers were in prison.  When Bertinelli wants to know if James was in trouble also, Stephenson pulls out James Claypoole's Letter Book, which utterly amazes Bertinelli.  A bookmark indicates a letter Claypoole wrote to William Penn — upon which Bertinelli asks, "The William Penn?" — dated the 1st of the 2nd month, 1683 (which I believe would have been April 1, because Great Britain did not adopt the Gregorian calendar until 1752).

William Penn

The narrator gives us a short overview of William Penn and the Quakers.  The religion began in England in the 1650's.  It had many social aspects that diverged from commonly held beliefs of the time, including pacifism, gender equality, and that people could communicate with God without the need of a priest.  Quakers suffered persecution for these beliefs.  Penn petitioned King Charles II for the right to create a colony in North America, which Charles granted in 1681, giving Penn more than 45,000 square miles to create a safe haven for Quakers wishing to leave England.

Claypoole's letter to Penn said that Quakers were reduced to meeting in the streets because they had been locked out of their meeting houses.  Stephenson then shows Bertinelli a copy of the document that essentially founded Pennsylvania, which was written in 1682 in England.  It laid out governance for the province and was witnessed on the back by men who had purchased land.  One of the signatures is that of James Claypoole.  Bertinelli comments on his beautiful handwriting.

Bertinelli wants to know what happened to James and if he made it to Pennsylvania.  Stephenson directs her to another bookmark in the book.  This is not a letter from Claypoole but one about him.  He was elected to the council in 1687 in Pennsylvania, but unfortunately was not well.  The council was on recess during the summer, from May through August.  When it reconvened, Claypoole had died, on August 6.  His wife Helena died a year later, but she inherited several items after his death, including the "largest and least" of his silver tankards, the "larger with the Claypoole Coat of arms."  Boy, did that catch Bertinelli's attention!  After all, Wolfie wants to know if there's a family crest.  So she asks how she can find out more about the coat of arms, and Stephenson directs her to the College of Arms, which controls and records heraldry for the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth.

As she leaves Friends House Bertinelli talks about how she sees parallels between Maria Possio and James Claypoole.  Both came to America for opportunity and made her world a better place because of the things that they did.  She says Claypoole particularly played a huge part in making America what it is (okay, maybe a little bit of an overstatement) and that she has "a lot to live up to."

At the College of Arms Peter O'Donoghue, the Herald of Arms, greets Bertinelli.  He has another family tree for her.  It begins with James Claypoole.  This is another time when they don't talk about all the people in the tree, and it was hard to see the names and dates because the camera didn't focus on them.  James' parents, not discussed, were John Claypoole (died 1660/6) and Mary Angell (born unknown).  The next name brought up after James was actually his grandfather, Adam Claypoole (born 1565; died March 2, 1632), who was married to Dorothy Wingfield (not discussed, but that's apparently where the given name came from for the Wingfield Claypoole born after 1755 in New Jersey; she was born 1565 and died November 1619).  Adam's parents were James Claypoole (born unknown; died about 1599) and "Jo" (that's all I could read, and I was guessing Joan; apparently she was Joan Henson).

O'Donoghue pauses at James Claypoole and says there's a document to look at.  He has Bertinelli open a book at a marked page, which describes the granting of arms to James Claypoole.  The page also shows the coat of arms.  O'Donoghue explains that James, who was from Norborow, Northampton, was not originally of the gentry but was a yeoman.  He made money and transformed the family's fortunes, then its social standing.  He came up enough in the world and had enough influence that he was made a gentleman.  Once he became a member of the gentry, his children could marry the children of other gentlemen.  And that's what happened with James' son Adam.  Adam's wife, Dorothy Wingfield, was from a longer established, important family (he married up).

We then return to the family tree and follow Dorothy's line.  Her parents (Bertinelli's 11th-great-grandparents) were Robert Wingfield (born 1532; died March 31, 1580) and Elizabeth Cecil (not discussed, although she came from a very important family:  her brother was William, Lord Burghley, an important advisor to Queen Elizabeth I; she was born unknown, died 1611).  Robert Wingfield's parents are totally skipped, and next we see Sir Henry Wingfield (born before 1431) and then Sir Robert Wingfield (born 1403, died before November 21, 1454), neither of whose wives were shown.  Sir Robert Wingfield was Bertinelli's 14th-great-grandfather.  Above his name is a notation:  "Arundel 1.159."  When Bertinelli asks what it means, O'Donoghue directs her to a closed cabinet in the room and has her pull out another book.  Page 159 of that book has another family tree.  (Bertinelli is not asked to wear gloves while looking at either book.  She did handle the pages carefully.)

"Gal nations edward i" by
Unknown, Sedilia at
Westminster Abbey;
erected during reign of
Edward I (1272–1307).
Licensed under
public domain via
Wikimedia Commons.

The new family tree starts with Sir Robert Wingfield and his wife, Elizabeth (now she has a name!).  I had trouble reading her last name and thought it was Greskill, but it seems to be Goushill or something similar.  We hop over to Elizabeth's line at this point.  On screen they skip over her parents, who were Sir Robert Goushill and (Lady) Elizabeth (Fitzalan), and go straight to Lady Elizabeth's parents, William de Bohun, 1st Earl of Northampton, and Elizabeth (daughter of Bartholomew de Badlesmere).  William was the son of Humphrey de Bohun, 4th Earl of Hereford, and Elizabeth, daughter of King Edward I! (This Elizabeth was also the relict [widow] of John, Count of Holland, though he wasn't discussed at all, because, after all, we just landed on a king!  She was the daughter of Eleanor of Castile, who was the daughter of another king, Ferdinand III of Castile.  And with all this royalty, I know it must go back to Charlemagne, but I can't find the path.  So I'll claim accuracy on that point.)

O'Donoghue proceeds to tell Bertinelli that Edward is a great king to be descended from.  He was the quintessential Medieval English king.  He lived a long life, dying at the age of 72 (though Wikipedia says he was 68).  He was about 6'2" and was known as Longshanks because of his height.  O'Donoghue mentions Edward fought in the Crusades but that it was a disaster and says, "Never mind."  And during his reign England began its first steps to what would eventually become Parliamentarian democracy.  (What O'Donoghue neglects to mention is that Edward I expelled all Jews from England in 1290, after having expelled Jews from Gascony in 1287.  "Great" might be in the eye of the beholder.)

Bertinelli is obviously excited at these revelations but appears to be very self-effacing.   She is glad she has filled in blanks on her mother's side of the family tree with so many names and stories.  Now she is heading back to Los Angeles to share the information with her parents.  She's been so in touch with her Italian side all of her life and feels a real connection with Maria (and she brings back the postcard Maria sent from Palermo to show her parents).  She's never had any inkling about her English background but now has to identify with that side of her family as well.  And of course she's thrilled with the "Claypoole coat of arms."  (What they never address in the program is that English heraldry doesn't award a coat of arms to a family but to a person.  Each person in the family entitled to a coat of arms must use a variation of the basic form.  So the Claypoole coat of arms would originally have been James Claypoole's.  His descendants would have differentiated theirs by various devices.  I guess Wolfie will have to come up with his own version.)

On a totally separate note, now that Who Do You Think You Are? is on TLC, I'm seeing commercials for lots of programs from that network.  I have to say, I had no idea so many incredibly tacky, tasteless shows existed.

Whew!  I'm glad I finially finished this one.  All that nobility was very confusing after a while.  Onward to Kelsey Grammer!