Showing posts with label archives. Show all posts
Showing posts with label archives. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 13, 2020

If You Don't Ask, the Answer Is No

Way back when I was a little girl, my mother taught me that if I wanted to learn something, I should be willing to ask questions to find my answer.  If I wasn't willing to ask, then the answer to my question was automatically no, because I couldn't find the answer that way.

This is particularly pertinent in genealogy.  If you don't want to ask family members what they remember about older relatives, or how the family fared during the Depression, or what happened at your cousin's wedding that everyone still snickers about, then your answer is no.  You most likely won't be able to find out.  Even if you think that your aunt probably doesn't know, until you ask her, your answer is already no.  So why not go ahead and ask, and maybe that no will become a yes?

When I was researching my ex's family, I had made some good progress, but I had lost track of his maternal grandparents.  I knew they had moved from Massachusetts to California, but I couldn't find them after that.  My ex was convinced that they had returned to Massachusetts and died there, but I hadn't found records to verify that.  I had searched through several indices and had not found their names.

So I tried a different angle.  My ex's brother is two years older than he.  I figured two years was enough that he might remember what happened to the grandparents — when they had died, or moved, or something.  My ex didn't want me to ask, insisting that his brother couldn't possibly remember anything he didn't remember himself.  So my answer was "no."

But I kept working on him, and finally he relented and gave me his brother's e-mail address.  And lo and behold, what do you know?  Yes, indeed, he did remember.  The grandmother had died in California, and then the grandfather returned to Massachusetts and died there.  And he had a pretty good idea of the years, also.

Now that I had years to work with and could narrow my search, I found the grandmother's death in California and the grandfather's death a few years later in Massachusetts.  Both names had been indexed poorly, and I hadn't been able to pick them out because I was searching through too many years and overlooked them.  But now I had them!  I turned the no into a yes simply by asking.

Another time I was willing to ask questions was a little more daunting.  I was doing research on a man who had lived in San Francisco for about six years and had owned an automobile repair garage.  I had been asked to find a photograph of the garage.  I had determined the address but had discovered that the building was no longer there.  In its place were parking spaces in front of a gas station convenience store, part of a larger piece of property which included the gas station itself.  After more research, I figured out that the same gasoline company had had a gas station on that corner property for more than a hundred years, including the period during which my guy had owned his garage.

Logically, at some point the gas company must have bought the lot which had the garage and added it to the gas station.  It seemed that asking the company about the history of the proprty might be a useful step.  But who goes around asking gas companies questions like that?  They seem to be pretty protective about their information, especially in a city like San Francisco, where gas companies are not held in the highest esteem.

But if you don't ask, the answer is no, remember?

So I looked up the phone number of the administrative office of the gas company.  I explained I was researching the history of the property and was wondering if the company might have an archive of some sort with information about the company's history.

And it did.  (By the way, this is a relatively common thing.  If a company has been around for more than a century, it probably has an archive.)

Not only did it have an archive, the archivist was friendly and helpful!  She was able to find a little bit of the history of the property.  She even found two photos of that specific lot!  Unfortunately, they were after the garage had been torn down, so I didn't get the photograph I wanted, but I did have some additional information, including verifiying that the gas company had bought the land where the garage used to be.  And I confirmed the lesson I learned from my mother all those years ago:

If you don't ask, the answer is automatically no.  But if you ask, you might just find out something.

Monday, October 22, 2018

The Oregon Archives Crawl Was a Blast!

I am so glad I went to the Oregon Archives Crawl on Saturday!  I had a lot of fun at the three locations talking to archivists, librarians, and others who work in archives and repositories.  Since I'm still pretty new here, it was a great opportunity to learn about what resources are available.

One big difference between the Archives Crawl here and the ones I visited in Sacramento, Califorina is that it is pretty easy to walk between the host insitutions here.  In Sacramento, the hosts were spread out, and you had to drive between them or take the shuttle that was available.  Either way, a lot of your time was taken up traveling between locations, which didn't leave as much time to talk to archivists or look at the cool things on display.

The highlight of my day was at the City of Portland Archives and Records Center, the second stop on my rounds.  They had a City of Portland quiz game going on, where you spun a wheel and could win the prize you landed on if you correctly answered a historical question about the city.  I guessed right that Portland's city hall had been bombed at some point in its history, and I won a copy of Portland Memories:  The Early Years, a Pictorial History.  It's a beautiful hardcover coffee-table book with historic photos of Portland covering the late 1800's to 1939.  I also picked up a deck of cards with Oregon historical information from the Oregon State Archives table, and a button with the State Archivist's seal.  How many archivists have their own buttons?!

From an archives/research perspective, I discovered some really interesting repositories in the area.  Probably the most unusual is the Oregon State Hospital Museum of Mental Health.  In this country, mental health information is generally not easily available, so it was surprising to find that the hospital has created this museum to educate people.  Documents and exhibits cover a timeline of the subject in Oregon dating from the 1880's, the training of those who worked at the hospital, spirituality/religion, the history of treatments, therapeutic activities, and children at the hospital (both patients and those of employees and residents), along with oral histories.

One museum that resonated with me personally is the World of Speed Motorsports Museum, which I had not heard of.  (It's only been around for about three years.)  I've written about how I grew up around racetracks and garages because my father was a car mechanic and also raced, so anything about racing catches my attention.  Now I need to plan a trip to Wilsonville so I can see what they have in the museum.

I had a good conversation with Terry Baxter of the Oregon Country Fair Archives, another unusual repository.  The archives holds organizational records, promotional records, fair ephemera, audiovisual records, and donated collections.  Who would have thought that so much would be available about a county fair?  In addition, Terry told me that the archives crawl happens every other year, so now I know why I didn't hear about it last year.

In talking with Terry about the crawl passport, I mentioned that the archives crawl in Sacramento, California has a passport also, where you can get stamps from all the exhibitors and then get a small prize, usually a set of commemorative coasters.  He liked that idea, so maybe at the 2020 archives crawl here we'll be able to earn a small souvenir.

Friday, October 5, 2018

Oregon Archives Crawl

While I was living in California, I wrote about the Sacramento Archives Crawl (this year taking place tomorrow, October 6, from 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.), part of the outreach during Archives Month.  The point of Archives Month is to make more people aware of archives and the great information you can find in them, and to encourage everyone to preserve their own records.

Well, after I moved to Oregon, it sure wasn't going to be practical to fly back to Sacramento just for that Archives Crawl.  But now I've learned about the Oregon Archives Crawl!  (There was no crawl in 2017, so that's why I didn't hear about it last year.  But Oregon appears to have been celebrating Archives Month since 2008.)

It seems to be set up similarly to the one in Sacramento, with a few facilities hosting tables for many archives and records repositories.  This year's event is being held on Saturday, October 20, from 11:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. (a couple of hours shorter than the event in Sacramento).  The host institutions are the City of Portland Archives and Records Center, the Oregon Historical Society, and the central branch of the Multnomah County Library.  You can start crawling from any of the hosts and then progress to the others.

This year's theme is "Changing Attitudes."  Thirty-two groups are participating, including some from Washington State.

The Crawl also has a Facebook page, where it has been featuring posts about several of the groups that will have tables.

So I'm looking forward to visiting the different locations, talking with lots of archivists, and learning about what's available.  Anyone want to come out and "crawl" with me?

Wednesday, May 3, 2017

"Who Do You Think You Are?" - Noah Wyle

One minor advantage to the end of this season of Who Do You Think You Are? is that I know no new episodes are coming up, so I'm no longer aiming at a moving target.  I finally had some time to sit down and rewatch the Noah Wyle episode for details, so the slow process of catching up continues. The teaser for this episode said that Wyle would hunt for the answers to mysterious family rumors and unearth (like dig up?) a beloved relative who fell from prosperity to poverty, whose desperate measures and tragic downfall would shake Wyle to the core.

The introduction is shot in Hollywood.  Noah Wyle tells us that he is a third-generation Angeleno who grew up in Hollywood, which had a profound influence on him.  He started acting in his sophomore year of high school.  Everyone in his family had gone to college, and he was the first one in generations not to do so.  He likes the freedom of acting and told his family members it is like an ongoing education because of all the things he learns, which somewhat appeased their anxiety.  So he continues to learn and he makes money, not a bad combination.  We get the obligatory run-down of Wyle's career highlights with stills — A Few Good Men, ER (1994–2009), Falling Skies (2011–2015), The Librarian — although his commentary seems a little more perfunctory than most.  He says that after about 20 years of acting, he now also writes and directs, which he likes a lot, and that he's been very lucky.  (Why does everyone want to direct?  I've done it, and I like acting a lot more.)

Wyle was born at Cedars of Lebanon Hospital in Hollywood on June 4, 1971.  (The old Cedars of Lebanon Hospital building is now the Church of Scientology, by the way.)  His parents are Marjorie Ann Speer and Frank Stephen Wyle (who goes by Stephen).  His paternal grandparents, Frank and Edith Wyle, were movers and shakers in Los Angeles.  They were close by, so he saw them a lot growing up.  His mother is from Kentucky, and they regularly took extended visits to see her family there, and vice versa.  Speer's parents were Alexander Burns Speer and Marjorie Mills (wow, he knows his grandmother's maiden name?).

Education was important to Wyle's family in general, but he excelled in history.  He saw the inherent drama in studying it.  His first interest in history was the American Civil War.  Because his mother's family is from the South, he was always curious about what they might have done in the war.  His Uncle Sandy, who was the family genealogist on his mother's side and who passed away at a very young age, had told him it was commonplace for people of means to pay someone else to serve in their place and that their family had taken advantage of that.  Wyle had felt disappointed to learn that his family members had skated on an obligation like that.

Now that he's 45 years old, Wyle is looking at the second half of his life and decided it's appropriate to understand his family history better.  He realizes that people are complicated, and that a noble act doesn't make someone a noble person any more than an egregious act makes him a terrible person.  He doesn't want his ancestors to be just "two-dimensional people and fourth-generation anecdotes."  He wants to come to an objective understanding of them.  (Obviously, he is preparing himself for people who fought on the "wrong side" of the war.)  He's curious about his mother's family, and now there are few people to tell him stories, but he wants to understand his history so he can tell his own children.

Wyle begins his journey by visiting his mother, Marty, in Hollywood.  She has found a photograph that Uncle Sandy gave her of her mother's family; Wyle has never seen it before.  It shows her mother, Marjorie, who was born in 1916, as a baby, so the photo probably dates from around 1917.  Marty points out Wyle's great-grandparents, George Pemberton Mills and Margaret Mills.  Also in the photo are Wyle's great-great-grandparents, George W. Mills and Marie Pemberton.  Marty never knew her great-grandparents, but she knows that the father of George W. (what an unfortunate name) was John Henry Mills, who was born about 1843 in New York.  She also knows that he married Mary Emily Brown in 1863 in Summit, Mississippi.  We see a floating family tree that follows the direct line to John Henry Mills and adds no information beyond what Marty describes.

Wyle is curious whether John served in the Civil War and which side it might have been for.  He mentions that he had asked Uncle Sandy about this and was told about paying someone else to take one's place.  Marty never heard that story but says they should look it up:  "Let's look on Ancestry and see what we can find."  (The entire exchange had sounded very scripted anyway, and that line just cemented it for me.)

So they go online to Ancestry.  Even though they had just been discussing whether John served in the war, Marty suggests looking in the federal census for 1860 (boy, she knows all the right words, doesn't she?).  Wyle types in John Mills as exact, and birth year of 1843 and birth place of New York with exact turned off.  They immediately focus on the John H. Mills living in Baton Rouge, East Baton Rouge Parish, Louisiana and comment that it must be him because of the middle initial — even though his estimated birth year is shown as 1842 and four results above him is a John H. Mills, estimated birth year of 1843, living in Warren County, New York; and three results below the guy in Louisiana is another John H. Mills in New York, this one with an estimated birth year of 1844.  Gee, do you think they knew ahead of time what they were looking for?

1860 census search results using the same variables as Noah Wyle

That said, they click on the John Mills in Louisiana.  He is the only person in the household, so there is no logical way for them to know he is the correct person, but they are excited nonetheless.  His occupation is clerk.

United States 1860 Federal Population Census, Baton Rouge Post Office, City of Baton Rouge,
East B[aton] Rouge [Parish], Louisiana, June 9, 1860, page 17/463, line 33 (edited image)

Now Wyle wonders if John did serve in the Civil War, was it in a Louisiana regiment?  And where should he go from here?  Since the last place they know John Mills lived was in Baton Rouge, Marty says, "Maybe you should go and try to see what you can find out there."  (Well, of course!  Why didn't I think of that?)

And so Wyle goes off, hoping that this journey can answer his question.  Will he find a Civil War veteran?  If he did fight, was it for the Confederacy?  (There were Unionists in Louisiana, but that doesn't fit the theme of this episode.)  Wyle has no misgivings, because everyone took a side then.  It was regionally specific, so whether they did it to maintain slavery or for states' rights (I couldn't believe he trotted out that canard), it will be interesting to see what he learns.  (And the apologies begin early.)

In Baton Rouge, Wyle heads to the Louisiana State Archive, which we are shown in a close-up is at 3851 Essen Lane (in case you want to go also).  He hopes they have enrollment records for John's military service (good thing he's an actor, but I'm sure he wished he had better material to work with).  He is very polite and thanks Dr. Lesley Gordon, credited as a Civil War historian at the University of Alabama, for taking the time to answer a few questions for him (don't worry, I'm sure she was paid well).  Gordon takes him to a microfilm reader and explains they will be looking at compiled service records, which were created by the government to track veterans.  The opening slide on the microfilm has "Microcopy No. 320 / Compiled Service Records of Confederate Soldiers Who Served in Organizations from the State of Louisiana / Roll 384 / Crescent Regiment L–Q" and was published by the National Archives.  Wyle fast forwards a couple of times and manages to land on J. H. Mills, a private in Company H of the Crescent Regiment, Louisiana Infantry, Confederate States of America.  (Again, of course this is the right guy.)  They show the jacket cover for the compiled service record, along with one muster card.  (These are available on Fold3, by the way.  I'm surprised Ancestry didn't take the opportunity to show off its military history site.  Maybe the WDYTYA producers didn't allow it.)

The only muster card shown details that on March 5, 1862, John enlisted in Captain John Knight's Company (Crescent Blues), the Crescent Regiment of the Louisiana Militia, for a 90-day stint.  Gordon says that the militia was the home guard.  This unit was made up of the elite of New Orleans and was called the "kid glove unit."  As a clerk, John was white collar and educated, which surprises Wyle.  Gordon explains that in the 1860's, a clerk was indeed in the educated class.  And even though John enlisted in New Orleans, there was no discussion of why or when he went there from Baton Rouge.


Not really unexpected for a unit of a city's elite, Knight's Company had no experience.  Wyle asks if they experienced combat, and Gordon tells him that one month after John's enlistment, the unit was in the Battle of Shiloh, one of the largest, bloodiest conflicts during the war.

The narrator steps in to inform us that in 1862, the Confederate and Union forces clashed at Shiloh, Tennessee.  More than 40,000 Confederate soldiers, including John Henry Mills, launched a surprise attack on the Union army to try to stop their advance on a railroad junction that granted access to New Orleans, Mobile (Alabama), Memphis, and the Gulf of Mexico.  After two days of combat the Union won.  There were more than 23,000 casualties, making Shiloh one of the bloodiest battles of the Civil War.

So John definitely was in the middle of the fighting.  The men in the Crescent Regiment were amateurs, and it would have been a frightening experience for all of them.  Wyle asks whether this was a voluntary enlistment or if John was forced to sign up.  Gordon tells him there was no draft, so he couldn't have been forced.  They don't know what motivated him to enlist.

Next Wyle asks why John, who was born in New York, was in Louisiana at all.  Gordon admits she doesn't know how long he was there.  (Doesn't Baton Rouge have any surviving city directories, tax lists, or newspapers to help pin that down?  I know New Orleans does.)  She points out that New Orleans was the center of the slave trade, so there's a good chance that John's work was in some way tied to that.  Many men joined up to support the economy that provided their jobs.  And after his 90-day enlistment, John was finished with the army.  (Except that if you look at the third muster card in John's packet, which is the fourth image above, it says that John was "Transferred from the Crescent [Regiment] to the 18th for war", presumably meaning the duration of the war, and the top of the card shows that John was in Company F of the 18th Regiment.  The asterisked footnotes on the second and third muster cards explain a little about the relationship between the Crescent Regiment and the 18th Regiment.  Perhaps Gordon discussed this with Wyle in footage that did not make it on air, but I looked through the records of the Louisiana 18th and those of the Reconsolidated Crescent available on Fold3 and did not find John H. Mills.  The only records I found for him were the ones I've included above.  So I don't know if there are no records of John's service in the 18th/Reconsolidated Crescent, there are records but they aren't on Fold3, he didn't actually serve after August 1862 [which was already about 90 days past his original 90-day enlistment], or some other scenario.  And this question will come up again near the end of the episode.)  Wyle still thinks it's cool to find out that John enlisted and fought at Shiloh, which is the opposite of what his family (to be specific, Uncle Sandy) had said, that he had paid someone to fight in his place.

Wyle asks Gordon if she has any more for him, but she says that's it for Louisiana and asks if Wyle knows where John ended up.  Wyle replies that John was married in 1863 in Summit, Mississippi.  Gordon tells him that's where he should go next.  (Just keep in mind, this is not how real research works.)

As he leaves the archive, Wyle comments on how enlightening this has been, even though his head has been spun around by the misconceptions he had.  It appears that there is now a cold trail for John's military history.  He doesn't know much about John beyond broad strokes and a few facts, but he wants to know who John really was.

Even though Gordon told Wyle that Summit, Mississippi is where he should go, somehow Wyle takes a wrong turn and ends up in Jackson (about 77 miles away), so one of the show's producers must have redirected him along the way.  Wyle muses that he would love to find a photograph of John or a letter from him, something to give him a three-dimensional, tactile connection.  He has called his children to update them on what he has learned, and they are following him on his journey.  They think it's pretty cool (but do they really understand the implications of John having fought for the Confederacy?).  Wyle continues to rationalize John's enlistment:  Who knows what motivated him?  It could have been his buddies, politics, economic interests, wife-to-be.  He's finding it fun to try to fill in the blanks.  Maybe he'll find something to steer things in a specific direction.

Wyle's next stop is at the Mississippi Department of Archives and History in Jackson, in the William F. Winter Archives and History Building.  There he meets Sharon Ann Murphy, a business historian from Providence College.  The first thing she does is give Wyle a small manila envelope, in which he finds a photograph of John Henry Mills.  (Well, we did get the foreshadowing, right?)


After overcoming his initial surprise, Wyle comments that John doesn't look anything as he expected him to and jokes that he could play bass for ZZ Top, which even makes Murphy laugh.  Murphy apologizes that the photograph is undated and that she doesn't know when it was taken, but Wyle doesn't seem particularly disappointed.  He finds John's high forehead similar to his grandfather's and can kind of see his face in the photo.

Hoping for more, Wyle asks Murphy is there is anything else, and Murphy obligingly takes out an extremely large, oversized copy of a newspaper page.  She says it's the local paper, the Summit Sentinel, of January 19, 1899.  (The newspaper, by the way, does not appear to be online anywhere.)

EFFICIENCY AND FAITHFULNESS REWARDED

Capt. J. H. Mills, after twenty-four years occupancy of the city treasuryship, was again unanimously elected by the city council at its last meeting.  This action of the mayor and council in again honoring this faithful and impartial officer meets the approval of every citizen of our town.  Twenty-four years is a long time and that anyone could so continuously retain the high regard and esteem in which our treasurer is held, speaks more than words can convey of his high character and popularity.  His long continuance as treasurer, undoubtedly exceeds that of any other officer occupying a similar position in the state.

Wyle is happy to read this glowing description of his ancestor, who was obviously well respected and an upstanding member of society.  He subtracts the years and figures out that John must have begun his tenure as treasurer in 1875.  He notices that John retained the rank of captain, but Murphy says it was probably an honorary title and that there was no evidence John was promoted from private.

As city treasurer, John must have been fiscally responsible, and Wyle wonders what level of society that would have equated to.  Was it high-end civil service, or maybe the town elite?  Murphy says it would have been town elite within the local community.  John was a prominent, important citizen of Summit.

Murphy then hands Wyle another oversized newspaper copy, this one from 1904, although I did not see a date.  Wyle has a shocked look on his face right before the program cut to a commercial, and I had suspected that John had died.  When we returned from the commercial, we learned that John indeed had died, but specifically, according to the headline, "He Took His Own Life."  (He apparently died on June 18.)  (Not all of the article was shown on screen.  I have filled in some missing information from an article published in the Jackson Weekly Clarion Ledger on June 23 [available on Newspapers.com], apparently within a day or two of the Sentinel article, and which had almost verbatim text for the most part.  Where there are gaps, I'm not entirely sure I have the latter pieces of the article in the correct order.  I'm also not sure that all of the text shown on air was from only one article.)

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

HE TOOK HIS OWN LIFE

SENSATIONAL SUICIDE AT THE LAWRENCE HOUSE

Capt. John H. Mills, Blew Out His Brains Because He Could Not Pay Premium

Because he had a premium on a large life insurance policy falling due Monday, and could not raise the funds to pay it, and being otherwise financially embarrassed Capt. John H. Mills, and [sic] old and prominent citizen of Summit, Pike county, committed suicide at the Lawrence House in Jackson shortly before midnight Saturday night.  The body was found a few hours later by a police captain from New Orleans with the head laying on a bloodsoaked pillow and a 38-calibre revolver still clasped in his right hand.

It seems Capt. Mills went to Jackson for the purpose of killing himself, and it is evident that he had been contemplating the deed for several days, but did not desire to commit it at home.  Preparations were made with the utmost coolness and deliberation.  He went to his room shortly before nine o'clock carrying with him a supply of writing paper and envelopes.  Five letters were written and addressed, three of them being sealed and [directed to friends and relatives at his hold (sic) home.  The other two explained the cause of the deed.

ACT WAS DELIBERATE

It is evident that Mr. Mills expected to have his deed discovered immediately, for he left the door of his room open and the gas jet burning.  The body was not discovered, however, until several hours later, when Capt. Fitzgerald, of the New Orleans police force, who was in the city to attend a Knights of Columbus meeting, was passing by the door and remarked to a friend that the man in bed looked like he was dead.  The friend ridiculed the idea, but Capt. Fitzgerald was struck by the unusual pallor of the man's face, insisted on making an investigation that confirmed his suspicions.

Mr. McQuaid, one of the proprietors, was immediately notified.  He stated at the coroner's inquest Sunday morning that he had heard a pistol shot a few minutes after 11 o'clock, but that it] sounded like it was two or three blocks away, and paid no attention to it.

HIS EXPLANATION

The following letter written by the dead man, and dated at 9:30 o'clock was found on the table:

"With a premium coming due on a large life insurance policy in the Equitable tomorrow which I cannot meet, and being financially embarrassed beyond hope of immediate retrieve, I resolved to take my own life in order to protect my family and personal friends who have endorsed my paper.  I am sure that my family will see that my personal friends and endorsers are not made to assume my obligations.  I left home to end my life because I could not bear the thought of committing the deed under my dear loved ones' eyes.

"May God, who rules the universe, forgive as far as possible, my act.

"JOHN H. MILLS."

HIS LAST REQUEST

The letter was written in a bold, firm hand, and the preparations for the rash act were evidently not fraught with nervousness.  Side by side with this letter was the following addressed to [Messrs. McQuaide and Ewing, proprietors of the Lawrence House.

"Will you kindly carry out the following request after my death:

"Wire Dr. W. W. Moore, Summit, Miss., to break the news to my dear] wife and daughter.  Ask Mr. John Patton or Judge R. H. Thompson to have the undertaker embalm my body and ship to Summit.

"God knows I hope you will not think too hard of me for what I have committed in your house.
"Truly,
"JOHN H. MILLS."

LETTERS TO LOVED ONES

The other letters were addressed to Mrs. M. E. Mills, Summit, his wife; Mr. E. H. Mills, Summit, his son; Dr. W. W. Moore, Summit, the family physi[cian.  The missives were not opened but probably contained farewell messages and directions concerning the disposal of his personal affairs.

The dead man had carefully covered his body with a sheet after laying down on the bed, and the pillow had been so arranged as to muffle the report of the revolver.]  The bullet entered the right temple and death was probably instantaneous.  The weapon used was a 38-calibre pearl-handle top break Smith and Wesson revolver.  Capt. Mills was formerly one of the wealthiest citizens in the southern part of the state, owning a large property interests, and being identified with several financial enterprises, but business reverses had swept away his entire fortune.  He was about sixty-five years of age, of patriarchal appearance, wearing a long reddish gray beard.  He had always been known as a man of unusually cheerful disposition and had several [intimate friends in this city.]

[gap of unknown size]

[beginning of paragraph not shown] believed his financial troubles were more imaginary than real, for had he made known his troubles to his warm and life-long friends they would gladly have extended the necessary aid.

Capt. Mills was a brave, fearless and faithful Confederate soldier, having entered the ranks in New Orleans the first of the war, and serving till its close, when he settled in Summit, and resided here continuously until his deplorable end.  At the time of his death he was adjutant of Stockdale Camp, 324, U. O. V., of Pike county, and had issued a call for the Camp to meet at Magnolia to-morrow, but never again on earth will he answer to the roll call of his comrades-in-arms.  He was also an esteemed and beloved member [—]nit[?] Lodge, No. 93, I. O. O. F.; DeLeon Lodge, No. 40, K. of P.; Woodmen of the World and Knights of Honor, in all of which he stood deservedly high.

He leaves his heart-broken wife and daughter, Miss Carrie, four sons, George W. Mills, of Lexington, Ky.; Harry H Mills, of Brookhaven; Hollis Mills, of Gulfport. and E. H. Mills, of Summit — all grown — also a sister, Mrs. C. E. Bradshaw, of Summit, and a brother, George W. Mills, of Brookhaven, all of whom were present at the funeral,

Capt. Mills was a whole-souled generous and charitable man, never allowing his lips to utter a word detrimental to any one, no matter what injury had been done him.  Never was there a man more devoted to his family.  Their happiness and comfort was his first consideration, and his love for them was as beautiful as it was great.  On the other hand, wife and children almost idolized him, and looked upon any sacrifice as small that would conduce to his peace and comfort.  As a neighbor he was considerate and kind, always rendering some gentle deed that endeared him the stronger to those who knew him the best.  As a citizen, he was enterprising and public-spirited, [end of paragraph not shown]

[gap of unknown size]

The funeral was one of the largest and most inspiring that had occurred here in a long while.  [missing text not shown] [fu]neral cortege extending over three blocks.  Many prominent visitors from Brookhaven, McComb, Magnolia and other places were present, besides hundreds of his sorrowing townsmen, to pay the last tribute of respect to his revered memory.  All the stores in town were closed in honor of the deceased, and the town bell was tolled.  The grave in Woodlawn Cemetery was literally covered with rare floral tributes of beautiful designs, several of the largest coming from the Odd-Fellows at Jackson.  The active pall-bearers were:  T. L. Cotten, H. Perlinsky, J. M. Willoughby [rest of paragraph not shown]

[gap of unknown size]

[beginning of paragraph not shown] to his many friends here, but every where he was known, all of whom deplore his death beyond words to express, and regret that he labored under the hallucination that it was necessary his life should pay the forfeit of his financial obligations.  In his death a good man has gone, and one the whole town will sadly miss.

During this time when deepest woe and darkest sorrow pervade the household once made so bright, cheerful and loving by his presence, it does not seem meet and proper to offer words of sympathy and [rest of paragraph not shown]

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Wyle's reaction to all of this?  "Holy moley!"  This was definitely not what he had expected.  Even though the obituary/article said John was "about sixty-five years of age", Wyle figures he was about 61, based on his birth year of 1843.  Wyle notes the comment about "formerly wealthy" and asks about the business reverses that were mentioned; Murphy says she is not sure but that Summit had been in decline since the 1880's.  John had probably invested in several opportunities, with each failing, a scenario not uncommon in the South.

(I have a couple of my own comments on the obituary.  First, it is amazing to find such a long piece about someone who committed suicide.  It went on for two columns!  To me, that more than anything else demonstrates the esteem in which John was held.  I also noticed that the obit said that John had served throughout the war and then settled in Summit.  I commented earlier about the confusion between John's compiled service record and Dr. Gordon's comments, and that it isn't clear how long he served based on what we, the public, saw.  We can also add to that the fact that John was consistently said to have married in Summit in 1863 after his service but nothing about then returning to fight.  I wish the editors had made the information presented on air a little more consistent, or at least explained it better, since we only see parts of the story.  One last thing that struck me was that two of John's siblings were also living in Mississippi by 1904.  That makes me wonder whether the entire family was living in the South before the war.)

Wyle wants to know what happened to John's family.  With his suicide, it sounds as though there would no inheritance.  Murphy explains that the life insurance policy John had mentioned in his letters was probably a deferred dividend policy.  Companies would bring groups of people together for 15 to 20 years; if an individual lapsed in his payments, he received only a small value, but the survivors at the end of the investment period split all the premiums and dividends.  Wyle thinks it sounds "very pyramidy", and Murphy agrees.  If someone was unable to pay a premium, he lost everything he had invested.  On the positive side, if the policy had been held for at least one year, it was not contested for any reason, paying out even in the event of a suicide.  So the policy would have brought money to John's family, and they would have been able to pay some debts and perhaps have something for the widow's share.  Wyle is awed to think about how horrible it would have been for John to keep up appearances while he made all these plans, to maintain a veneer of normalcy.

Until now, Wyle has always thought of suicide as a cowardly act.  He is trying to reconcile his previous opinion with what looks like a selfless act on the part of John.  John's friends and family would certainly have said it was an unnecessary act.  Murphy says that a year after John's death, Congress began to investigate these insurance policies, and eventually they were banned.

What happened to John's wife?  Murphy found Mary on the Confederate pension rolls in 1913 as a widow.  To qualify for one of these pensions, you had to prove you were truly poor.  The listing is by county, and Mary E. Mills appears under Pike County.  Wyle notes that this was nine years after John's death and asks how much money she received.  The summary Murphy has shows that she was getting $40.30 for the year, well below poverty level.  Mary was destitute.  Murphy says that this was the only public aid available, however.  Mary had had some property and had been selling it to pay debts, some of which were from John.

Wyle realizes that John and Mary's children were adults by this time and wonders why they didn't take care of Mary or support her (even though the quick glance at the papers Murphy had indicated that Mary was living with her daughter, Carrie).  Murphy brings up the question of what their circumstances might have been.  They could have been helping to pay off their father's debts.  Wyle notes the irony in the situation and compares it to an O. Henry ending, where the opposite of what was planned happens.  John had committed suicide to make sure his family received the insurance money, but the family was in debt anyway.

The pension rolls are not available online, but some of the pension applications are (at the Mississippi Department of Archives and History, in fact, the very place Wyle and Murphy are sitting).  I was able to find Mary's applications from 1913, 1924, and 1926.  Mary is pretty consistent in the information she gives — John enlisted in 1861 (it was actually 1862); she and John were married in 1863 (one application has the full date); John served through the end of the war, with accurate information about his unit.  I find it odd that she signed the applications in 1913 and 1926, but the one for 1924 has "her mark."  I wonder who really filled out each of the applications.


Murphy brings out a copy of the 1927 pension roll, the last year she was able to find Mary.  The list came from the Chancery Court in Harrison County (but Mary used to live in Pike County . . .).  Murphy asks Wyle what he thinks happened.  He comes up with the logical scenarios, died or remarried, and also considers Mary's children.  Murphy says she has no idea what happened.  Mary could have remarried, could have died, could even have moved out of state.  Since the last pension roll showed Mary as living in Harrison County, down on the Gulf Coast, Murphy recommends that Wyle go there.  When Wyle asks if they'll have records, she simply says it's probably his best bet.  (Can't they come up with better scripting for these shows??!!)

As Wyle leaves the archive, he talks about his great-great-great-grandfather's suicide and tragic end.  The obituary really affected him emotionally.  The public outpouring of emotion, the tolling of the church bells, showed that John was really beloved.  Now Wyle wants to find out what happened to Mary, who lived many years longer and who moved from Pike County to Harrison County.

Wyle goes next to Biloxi, Mississippi.  He tells us that he is going to the Jefferson Davis Memorial Library, but the Beauvoir historic marker doesn't actually include those words, so it was a little confusing.  The marker says that the home "has been" "a Confederate Veterans' home since 1903."  The Wikipedia pages for Beauvoir (the house) and the library make clear that the house became the library after the last Confederate veteran living in Mississippi died, which was in 1953.  You'd think someone might have updated the sign by now.


Inside, presumably in the library, Wyle meets Dr. Susannah Ural, a military historian from the University of Southern Mississippi.  She hands him a file and tells him that it has copies of what she has found.

The first item shown is minutes from a September meeting during which an application for emergency care for Mary Mills was approved, in a handwritten note added to the typed minutes.

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SEPTEMBER MEETING

The finance committee of the Board of Directors met at the Home on Sept. 14th with Mr. J. H. Mc Gehee and Mrs. Josie C. Rankin present.  The accounts for August were audited and allowed.

The following applications were approved:  Mrs. M. A. Jackson, McComb, Pike Co.; Mr. and Mrs. Horace Walker; Biloxi, Harrison Co.; W. C. Green, Louin, Jasper Co.; Wm. T. Waldrup, Batesville, Panola Co.

[handwritten note] Mrs. Mary Emily Mills, of Gulfport, Harrison Co., application was approved during vacation on Sept. 10th by Mr. J. H. McGehee, same being an emergency case.

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So what was the emergency?  Ural doesn't know, but it could have been medical care, as the home had a hospital on site.  Before coming to the home, Mary was living with her daughter, Carrie.  Maybe Carrie was no longer able to take care of her mother.  Ural says that these applications usually came when the family needed help, either temporary or permanent, in caring for their relatives.  Wyle compares Beauvoir to a home for the aged, and Ural agrees, but adds that the residents were impoverished.

Next Ural brings out a photograph for Wyle and adds that it's a rare find.  She almost never sees photos of the home's former residents.  The photo is of an old woman — Mary — with three young children, whom Ural says were Mary's grandchildren.  (There was handwriting at the bottom of the photograph, but it was light and the camera angles did not focus on it, so I was unable to read any of it.  And that photograph is not online, but a different photo of Mary is on her FindAGrave page.)  Wyle thinks she looks tough and strong, and he sees a resemblance to other family members.  (I wonder if he's suggestible or just polite.)

Now Wyle takes the initiative.  He tells Ural that the previous day he had seen Mary listed in pension rolls from 1913 to the "mid '20's" and asks if Ural knows what happened after that.  Ural says, "Take a look," and hands him another copy.  It is from the Biloxi Daily Herald of September 29, 1928 and is an obituary for Mary.  (Again, this newspaper is not online, but the first half of the obituary has been scanned and posted to Mary's FindAGrave page.)

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MRS. M. E. MILLS DIES

Mrs. M. E. Mills died last night at 9 o'clock, at Beauvoir Soldiers Home at the age of 84 years.  Mrs. Mills is the widow of the late J. H. Mills, a Confederate veteran who preceded her to the grave a number of years ago.  She was a Miss Brown born in Fort Gaines, Ga., but has resided in Mississippi for many years, living in Summit when the famiy was one of the best known in that section.  She moved to Gulfport from Summit 14 years ago with her daughter, Miss Carrie Mills.  Mrs. Mills was a gentlewoman of the old school and in her younger years her home was rendezvous of the intellectual and social group of her neighborhood.  She was of a noble Christian character, a communicant of the Episcopal church.  She is survived by one daughter, Miss Carrie Mills, of Gulfport, and three sons, E. H. Wills [sic] of Shreveport, who will arrive in Gulfport this afternoon, G. W. Mills of Lexington, Ky., and H. C. Mills of Brookhaven.  The remains are at the Riemann Funeral Home on 25th avenue and will be shipped tomorrow morning to Summit, Miss., for burial.

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Wyle notices the misspelling of the first son's surname, which Ural confirms was a typo by the newspaper.  He latches onto the description of Mary as intellectual and social and comments that she was educated and progressive for the era.  Ural corrects him, explaining that Mary was educated to be conversational, not professional, and that she did appear to enjoy that.  She was representative of wealthy women of that time.  Wyle is still happy and finds the obituary informative.  Mary has now taken on some tangible qualities for him.

Wyle sits in a chair on the porch of one of the buildings on the property and thinks about what he has learned.  He thinks about how his great-great-great-grandmother [Mary] Emily lived out her last few years in one of the barracks buildings, probably living with others in similar circumstances.  She survived her husband's suicide and the family's fall from economic grace, and showed strong character.  He knew beforehand that he had proud Southern roots, but he hadn't realized they ran this deep (not really that deep, dude; John came from New York, remember?).  He thought he didn't have any Civil War ancestors, but he found out about John fighting at Shiloh and Mary living at Jefferson Davis' former home.  He's not really surprised there wasn't a great social safety net, but it's good there was some help for veterans; it's unlikely any help would have come from the North. Wyle admits that it's hard to reconcile the South's preservation of a romantic depiction of the antebellum period with the fact that the economic engine was forced human labor, but his choice of terminology makes it clear that he's still dancing around the edges of the topic.  (It makes me wonder what else he learned that was not shown on air, though it does not appear to be the same kind of whitewashing that Gates indulged in with Affleck.)

Marty comes out to Mississippi to see Wyle and share in the discoveries.  He tells her that he was happy to learn that their ancestor did serve in the Civil War, right or wrong.  He shows her the photograph of John and talks about how he is reconsidering his opinion of suicide, and also shares the photo of Mary.  He closes by saying that it's been quite a week and that you can find whatever you're looking for — good or bad, hero or villain.  The complexity of the past is wonderful.

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

The Frustrating Fate of the Record Books of the Jews from Egypt

This article originally appeared in the October 2016 edition of Kosher Koala, the journal of the Australian Jewish Genealogical Society.  It is reprinted with permission from the author to help spread word about the situation with these records.

Dani Haski, guest author

Community registers in Alexandria.
Photo credit:  Association
Internationale Nebi Daniel
In July 2016, the newspaper Egypt Independent reported the death of Lucy Saul.  Saul’s passing reduced the official Jewish population of Cairo to just six old and increasingly frail women.  In an interview with the BBC a couple of years ago, Magda Haroun, the nominal head of the Cairo Jewish community, voiced her anguish at what would happen to the cultural legacy of this once thriving community.  Unfortunately, Mrs. Haroun proved to be just as resistant as her predecessor, the late, formidable Carmen Weinstein, when it came to facilitating access to the large library of community registers housed in the various synagogues to those who have been fighting for decades to preserve this rich heritage, so her lamentations were somewhat disingenuous.

Then, in early April 2016, Mrs. Haroun gave the libraries of the Adly, Ben Ezra, and Abbasseya synagogues, in their entirety, to the National Archives of Egypt.  She did this without consulting any of the organizations which had been fighting to digitize and preserve these records.  Upon receiving these assets in Cairo, officials from the National Archives descended on the community in Alexandria, which had shown no such desire to surrender its heritage.  M. Ben Gaon, the community leader, was pressured to hand over its collections to the archives as well.  These included personal religious and civil identity registers dating back to 1830.  Placing these records with the Egyptian Archives has not so far improved access.  Those fighting to save them are concerned that the records will simply disappear into this vast collection, much like the Ark of the Covenant at the end of the Hollywood movie Raiders of the Lost Ark, never to be seen again.

Egypt and the Jewish people have a history going back to before Moses.  In more recent times, Egypt was home to a thriving and successful Jewish community, numbering more than 80,000 through the 19th and the first half of the 20th centuries.  In synagogues across the country, the day-to-day lives of the community—births, bris and bar mitzvahs, marriages, divorces, and deaths—were dutifully recorded by hand in hundreds of leather-bound registers.  No one foresaw the tumultuous turn the 20th century would take.  Sadly, after World War II and with the creation of the State of Israel in 1948, the fall of the monarchy, and the Suez crisis in the 1950’s, the community was forced into what many today call the Second Exodus.

For individuals with roots in Egypt, it has been an increasingly frustrating and difficult exercise to access those vital genealogical records, records which are more than historical curiosities and can actually be crucial in matters of religious identity—often being the only way some people can verify their Jewish status for religious purposes.

Yves Fedida (left) of Nebi Daniel with
M. Farouk Hosni, former Egyptian
Minister for Culture, in 2010.
Photo credit:  Association
Internationale Nebi Daniel
The Association Internationale Nebi Daniel, based in France, has been working tirelessly for years for the opportunity to access, digitize, and preserve these record books.  It was close to success in 2010, having secured a letter from the then Culture Minister, M. Farouk Hosni, acknowledging the legitimacy of its claim.

And then came Tahrir Square.  The Arab Spring in Egypt threw the whole project back to square one. Hopes were once again raised with the downfall of the Muslim Brotherhood administration, but after fruitless attempts to revive negotiations through official channels, Yves Fedida, from Nebi Daniel and the Heritage of Jews in Egypt Facebook page, initiated a Change.org petition addressed directly to President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi and the current Minister of Culture, M. Helmy Namnam, exhorting them to urgently authorize:
  • scanning of all existing Jewish archives, particularly religious and civil identity records, and making the scans freely available;
  • donation to various Jewish community synagogues across the world of some of the 150 Torah scrolls which fall outside the 100 years Egyptian Antiquities rule;
  • restoration of the existing synagogues and cemeteries—in particular, the Bassatine cemetery in Cairo, one of the oldest Jewish cemeteries in the world—giving easy access both virtually and on the spot;
  • development of a comprehensive inventory of the remaining communal assets and of a plan for their preservation; and
  • creation, within one of the existing synagogues, of a museum of Egyptian Jewish heritage, which would encourage tourism.
A copy of the petition, which has, to date, gathered more than 1,500 signatures, was also sent to the Egyptian Ambassadors in France, Great Britain, Italy, Switzerland, Israel, Canada, the U.S.A., Brazil, and Australia.  Not a single diplomat has responded.  (I contacted the Egyptian Consul-General to Australia in Sydney for comment, but, at the time of publication, none has been forthcoming.)

The main concern of Egyptian authorities appears to be a perceived threat of reparations being demanded by descendants of Jews who were expelled and whose businesses and properties were confiscated.  The reality is that none of the registers in question has any connection to property ownership and cannot be used for this purpose.  Separate cases for reparations have already been prosecuted in the Egyptian courts and settled by individuals.  There is, in fact, no good reason to withhold permission for access to, and preservation of, these records, particularly when Nebi Daniel has committed to footing the bill for the whole exercise, ensuring positive PR and media coverage for the Egyptian government, and leaving the physical registers in Egypt.

The Egyptian government is not blind to the value of its Jewish cultural heritage.  In 2010, the government invested almost 8.5 million Egyptian pounds (US $950,000) in restoring the Maimonides Synagogue in Cairo and opening it to the public as a museum.

As recently as early September this year, a report in Al Monitor quoted the current head of the Islamic and Coptic Monuments Department at the Ministry of Antiquities (who is also responsible for Jewish antiquities), M. Saeed Helmy, as saying, “I know very well that the Egyptian monuments—including the Jewish antiquities—capture the attention of people all around the world. Therefore, I’d like to make it clear that Egypt pays considerable attention to its monuments, whether they are Islamic, Coptic or Christian .
. . . However, we need the support of the countries that are interested in cultural heritage in order to protect these great antiquities.”

Collection of the Jewish community registers might have been an unwritten part of this response, as on June 11, the Ministry announced the formation of a special committee, with Helmy as its chair, to take stock of Jewish antiquities and register them in the ministry’s records—an activity undertaken several times already by previous Antiquities ministers.  But he admitted that, with the drastic fall in tourism revenue, the country had scarce funds to achieve its goals.

Community registers in Alexandria.
Photo credit:  Association
Internationale Nebi Daniel
But should the community registers be classified as antiquities or as artifacts?  Their importance lies more in the information they contain than in the physical books themselves.  Unfortunately, the Ministry has consistently ignored repeated offers of financial assistance from Association Internationale Nebi Daniel specifically to preserve these books and to help raise money for other preservation activities.  It appears that this very public show of attention to part of Egypt’s recent history might simply, once again, be mere lip service, as it coincided with Helmy’s meeting with the U.S. cultural attaché in August 2016.

So what is to be done?

Egypt claims it wants to preserve these artifacts and records but cannot afford to.  Members of the diaspora have repeatedly offered to help raise money and to pay for the preservation, digitizing, and indexing of important community registers, on the proviso that these records are available to the international community.

Are the Egyptian authorities deaf?  Have the messages been lost in translation?

Or is the Egyptian government simply telling the international community what it wants to hear while continuing to do absolutely nothing?

Disclaimer:  My father was a refugee from Egypt. I have a personal stake in wanting to access his records, along with those of his parents and grandparents, so that I can understand more of my family’s history.

©2016 Dani Haski. All rights reserved.

Saturday, June 18, 2016

Archives in Africa, a Cultural Heritage of Humanity

This article about the situation with archives in Africa was published online by Le Monde on March 20, 2015.  I thought the information might be useful and of interest to other researchers, so I've translated the article from French to English.

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At the National Archives of Senegal, Dakar.  Credit:  AFP.

At the Foccart symposium taking place on 26 and 27 March [2015] in Paris, Le Monde Afrique will publish a brief on the famous consultant and on archives in Africa.  Report of the former director of the Senegal archives, Saliou Mbaye.


Archives allow one to glimpse the past and to write the future.  They delve into the history of societies, peoples, and states.  Archives in Africa are currently a key issue of good governance, democracy, and development.  An archive is, among other things, knowledge of the state about the state, namely the peoples themselves.  Our societies and our African states therefore cannot develop without full knowledge of their own history.

Archival heritage, in West Africa for example, is not confined to yellowed papers from colonial administrations.  It’s about a heritage produced and admittedly received by colonial administrations and those of independence, but to it must be added all private archives, copies of archives of former colonial powers, collected and stored oral archives, objects and materials produced by West African societies, and finally manuscripts in Arabic or ajami (Arabic characters used to transcribe African languages:  Pulaar, Soninke, Hausa, etc.).  Oral sources and the extraordinary vitality of our societies based on oral tradition, as well as new information and communications technologies, are also part of this cultural and archival heritage that Africa has shared with mankind.

Dakar, the “Holy Mecca” of Archives in West Africa

In the early 2000’s, Africans decided to take charge.  Africa relied on itself.  It established the New Partnership for Africa's Development (NEPAD; http://www.nepad.org/), which intended to use private funds to implement development programs.  Among NEPAD’s priorities were indeed mastery of the new information and communications technologies and the development of records management capabilities.  What about today?  Efforts were certainly made.  But the great majority of countries are still deficient in rational management of their archives.

At the National Archives of Senegal, Dakar, in February 2013.  Credit: Nicolas Courtin.
The archives in Dakar, the "Holy Mecca" of archives in West Africa, as my late colleague J. Enwere from Nigeria said, "are recorded in the Memory of the World Register [since 2000] and were classified as World Heritage documentary" by Unesco.  The archives of French West Africa, held in Dakar, are also an exception, that we in Senegal today like to rank among the "Senegalese exceptions."

On the other hand, while the archives of Indochina, Madagascar, Equatorial Africa, and Algeria, based on the principle of sovereignty, are now found in the National Overseas Archives (ANOM) in Aix-en-Provence, France, the French West Africa (AOF) archives remain in Dakar.  This collection is undeniably a "common heritage."  This means that "the collection is kept physically intact in one of the relevant countries, where it is integrated into the national archival heritage, with all the responsibilities for security and processing that implies the State as acting owner of this heritage."

The archives have been microfilmed since 1961, but a good portion of these microfilms have deteriorated, and microfilming operations have been reduced for about a decade, which it is hoped will be of short duration.  In the 2000’s, several countries have made efforts to microfilm all or part of the archives relating to the histories of their countries preserved in the AOF collection.  These are Burkina Faso, Guinea, Ivory Coast, Mali, Mauritania, and Niger.

But in fact, to do it well, the entire collection should have been scanned, so each party could freely access it and in its own territory.  Total digitization would protect and save this "shared memory" between France and Africa.  Reducing the technology gap also begins with scanning everything.

The AOF Archives, Sources for African History

Although they originate from colonial institutions, the AOF archives unquestionably constitute sources for the history of Africa.  Of course, they have been grouped to illustrate colonial actions.  But they serve Africans and specialists in the history of Africa, who analyze them as bona fide sources of African history.  So, based on territorial principles (they were mainly produced in Africa) and relevance (the majority are focused on Africans), they belong to the heritage of Africa and Africans consider them as such.  They are correct.

These two sculptures stand guard at the bottom of a staircase at the National Archives of Senegal.  Marianne's feet are surrounded by mango trees, each representing a new colony.  Credit: Nicolas Courtin.
At independence, governments made efforts to provide archival services.  The challenge is how developed the nation is and that archives are viewed and maintained as a tool for development.  Moreover, most archives are under the authority of either the president of the country (e.g., Burkina Faso), the prime minister (e.g., Senegal, Madagascar), or the Ministry of the Interior (e.g., Ivory Coast).  In doing this, the administrations want, in effect, to present archives as an interdepartmental service that can provide historical information needed by any active bureaucracy.

Although repositories have been built here and there to house the archives, the oil crisis of the 1970's and the emergence of the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank in the economy of our country, with their structural adjustment programs, have dampened the enthusiasm of the 1960's.  It was not until the years 1990–2000 that a building construction policy resumed.  This is the case in Benin, Mali, Niger, and Ghana, where buildings were constructed for archives.  Guinea and Cape Verde have renovated old buildings.

But curiously, Senegal, which has had a construction plan since 1972, remains stuck at the starting line.  The project was started, but political changes that occurred 19 March 2000 terminated it.  However, since 2012 (after a second round of political changes), there are rumors that generate a lot of hope in the national community of archivists.

The development of democracy, the issue of good governance, and the requirements of new citizenship demand more transparency in government actions and greater access to administrative information.  The governments of African countries must give their citizens free access to administrative information and create privacy legislation.  Another obstacle is that only a few countries, such as Senegal, have adequate legislation, characterized by a number of laws, notably on archives (2006) and the protection of personal data (2008).  It is hoped that such laws will be adopted in the near future in all of Africa, giving the countries of the continent the opportunity to be included among the countries of the world where archives count.

Saliou Mbaye is a palaeographer and archivist.  Former director of Senegal's archives, he is a university professor.

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I've tried for the past year to obtain official permission to publish this translation, but Le Monde says it isn't their intellectual property but the author's, and they won't help me contact the author.  I found an e-mail address for the author online, but no one responded to my message.  If anyone can help put me in touch with Saliou Mbaye, I would appreciate it.

Sunday, April 3, 2016

The Solano County Archives Are in Indefinite Storage

archival documents on
shrink-wrapped wooden carts
During my series of "Treasure Chest Thursday" posts about the cache of documents I was given relating to Emma (Schafer) Petit La Forêt, I've noted that she was often living in Vallejo, in Solano County, California, when several of those documents were created.  In addition, I wrote that my plan to try to learn "someday" whether the file for Emma's divorce from Emile Petit still existed moved up on my to-do list after I gave a presentation to the Solano County Genealogical Society and spoke to a volunteer from the Solano County Archives.

Well, I have learned that the divorce shows up in the index for civil cases from the Superior Court.  I learned that Emma first filed for divorce in 1906, prior to when she paid Emile Petit to stay out of her life forever.  And that seems to be as far as it can go right now, because I also learned that the Solano County Archives is in a state of limbo.  Above is a photograph of the current status of the archives, according to information on the Solano County Historical Society site.

I sent an official request for records retrieval.  The Solano County employee who responded to my request said that the documents just can't be found.  They might be lost, they might be misfiled, they might be in a box where someone can't read the numbers because they're on a shrink-wrapped cart — oh, wait, that last one was not one of the reasons the employee cited.  That's my own suggestion after looking at the photograph.

At this point Solano County apparently has no idea of when the question of what will happen to its archival materials will be resolved.  I was told it could take "several months" but no specific timeline.

These archival documents go back to 1850.  That's definitely worth preserving!  Some people in Solano County believe an official county archive should be established and now have an online petition to try to accomplish that.

To be fair, there is at least one more side to the story.  One person has put forth that Solano County has higher priorities than funding an archive.  That individual wrote to me that archival requests number no more than one per month, although no basis for the statistic was given.  That sounds rather low to me, considering the explosion of interest in family history that has taken over this country (remember, it's now the second highest Internet topic, right behind porn!).  The person in question did not state where knowledge of the situation came from and did not list any affiliation with the archives.

I have to admit I probably lean more toward hoping the county can have its own archives.  In theory it might be possible for the Solano County documents to be incorporated into the holdings of the California State Archives, but there's no guarantee that the state is willing or able to take on the additional material, and no indication that the idea has been broached to the state at all.  In addition, it would mean that local residents would have to go out of the county to research their own area.  My opinion holds little weight here, however, because I don't live in Solano County.  Residents of Solano County need to let their opinions be known to the county Board of Supervisors as soon as possible, whichever side of the debate they are on, because the board might make a decision as early as June.  Until the issue is resolved, research into the history of Solano County appears to be derailed.