Book Review: Reunion, A Search for Ancestors, by Ryan Littrell

Book Review: Reunion, A Search for Ancestors by Ryan Littrell

 

Often, genealogy books fall into one of two categories: how-to or historical fiction.  While I enjoy both, it was refreshing to find an author who was able to walk the reader through the hunt for ancestors, sharing the trials and tribulations we all go through as we chase our lines back through generations.

Mr. Littrell has a gift of merging words into sentences and sentences into eloquently described feelings—feelings that mirror mine exactly as I search for my own ancestors.  “And all around was the chance, like a ghost, that an ancestor has walked there!  This far west, this far north, some MacDonalds must have lived.  Maybe right here…”

From beginning to end, the author walks the reader through his proofs and disproofs of family legends, stories and records.  As he found a new item, my heartbeat would speed up, as if it were my own find about my own family.  The writing of these parts was moving and I enjoyed spending my time researching his family with him by reading his words.

If it were only this, I would have still loved this book.  But to elevate it to even a more amazing level, every other chapter was devoted to telling the Gaelic story of his MacDonald family in great detail, but written from that time.  I was able to learn about Scottish clans and old Scotland, by living it in the stories woven by the author.  I thank him for lending me his grandfathers before him and allowing them all to weave a tale for me that makes me imagine my own Scottish grandfathers’ lives.

You can find this book on Ancestry in a paperback or Kindle version.

http://www.amazon.com/Reunion-Search-Ancestors-Ryan-Littrell/dp/098834100X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1367540116&sr=8-1&keywords=ryan+littrell

Disclosure:  Ryan Littrell sent the author of this article two copies of this book to review—the Kindle version and a paperback version.  However, I will share that I have purchased two paperback copies of my own to give as gifts.  And I may order a third for another birthday coming up!

Thriller Thursday: Naked Turkeys

At some point during their time in Capa, South Dakota, my great grandfather, Orville Thomas Conner, decided that he was going to be a turkey farmer. They rented a farm outside of Capa near the Badd River and bought 60 baby turkeys. They raised them to adulthood on that farm south of town. One day, a cyclone came through the farmlands.

After they safely emerged from the cellar, they went to check the livestock. The turkeys were nowhere to be found. They searched and searched until they heard an odd noise down by the river. Looking up, my grandfather and his sisters saw the turkeys in the trees. But they looked odd. Something was amiss.

No feathers?

The tornado had plucked their feathers right out. The turkeys were naked.

They finally came down from the trees to eat, but sadly, died in just a few days from sunburn.

Faced with 60 rotting dead turkeys, Great Grampa had to quickly perform a mass burial. But where? He looked around the place and remembered the hole that tended to retain water after the snow melted each year. He decided that if he buried the turkeys there, and covered them with enough dirt… well, two birds with one stone (so to speak…).

He informed Great Gramma (Ann Konst) of the plan and she insisted it would stink. “No, Ann! We’ll bury ‘em deep! It’ll be fine!”

So Grampa and Great Grampa, using a scoop made of a half-barrel looking piece of metal strung up to the horse, dug and dug and dug. When they thought they were done, they dug even further, just to not hear, “I told you so!” from Great Gramma.

And that was that with the turkey farm.

Wednesday's Child: Gerald Thomas Conner

When visiting with Grampa, I learned that he’d had a brother named, Gerald. Gerald was born the just before one summer that my grandfather went to Salem and died while he was gone. Gerald had a very short life, but even though my grandfather hadn’t spent much time with Gerald and it was over 74 years ago, he still talked about, “My brother, Gerald.”

Those Places Thursday: 3 Milk Street, Salem, MA

When Grampa was a teenager in the tiny town of Capa, South Dakota, the town’s Catholic priest had a car and family in Salem, Massachusetts. What he didn’t have was the knowledge on how to drive the car. But Grampa did…

Priest's garage in Capa, South Dakota

So the summer when he was 15 years old, Grampa and one of his friends, Clarence Petorski, drove the priest the 1,850 miles to Salem, to stay with his family for the summer. They stopped by my grandfather’s grandfather’s house in Russell, Iowa, where this picture was taken.

The next summer they did it again, only this time, using the brilliance that only a 16-year-old can pull off, Grampa talked the priest into letting his friend Pete come along. Pete knows how to fix things, said Grampa. Remember that trouble we had with the car last year? Pete could fix that!

From the 1937 yearbook of Pete, the friend who came along the 2nd summer

So for two summers, a car of teenagers and a Catholic priest road-tripped to Salem, Massachusetts where they stayed at 3 Milk Street.

The priest had a non-priestly brother who worked all day. Grampa and his friends would impatiently wait all day for the brother to get home and then they’d all head to the Salem Willows.

From the Salem Willows website (http://www.salemwillowspark.com/history.html):

This beautiful wooded and hill peninsula jutting out into Salem Harbor became a municipal park in 1858. Graced with majestic, 200-year-old white willow trees, Salem Willows, a public park since 1858, has a special place in amusement park history.

In 1906, Everett Hobbs & William Eaton offered Americans the first ice-cream cone; “Blind Pat” Kenneally introduced Spanish “double-jointed" peanuts to America from his cart at the Willows.

Bavarian woodcarver Joseph Brown created the famous Flying-horse Carousel in 1866. in 1945, the horses were sold to Macy’s Department Store in New York City , where they graced the famous Macy’s Christmas displays. While the original horses have been replaced, the carousel itself still offers a thrilling ride.

A young Duke Ellington played here in 1923; Count Basie and Louis Armstrong performed as well, at the old Charleshurst Ballroom, now the Willows Casino. A tradition of popular summer jazz concerts continues to this day; jazz vocalist Cassandre McKinley performed here in 2003.

Wedding Wednesday: Under the Sea Dance II

I also asked Grampa how he and Gramma met. Grampa’s best friend Harry (who he was friends with for over 70 years) was dating Grampa’s sister Harriet. Harriet was working in a hospital in the Black Hills and my grandmother Signa worked with her. She’d come down to visit and bring Gramma with her. Or Harry and Grampa would go up and visit.

Before Harry went off to the war, he and Harriet were married. That didn’t last beyond the war (Grampa told me several such stories- should be a lesson in there for the future).  But Gramma and Grampa lasted a lifetime.

Harry Ravenscroft

Harriet Conner

Pierre Conner and Signa (Felt) Conner

Pierre Conner and Signa (Felt) Conner

Talented Tuesday: Hewlett Packard and Family Trees

My grandmother, Signa Felt, was an engraver for Hewlett Packard in Palo Alto, California for many years.  All the HP equipment had plates with writing that was done by my grandmother or her team.  She even did the plaque on the front of Mr. Packard’s boat.

For my great grandparent’s 50th wedding anniversary, my grandmother made this plaque, which I find fascinating, as the reason I began researching family history was for a plaque.  I wanted to create one for my grandfather of his descendents for his 75^th birthday and couldn’t get the spacing right.  I bought a genealogy computer program and now here we are, 14 years later…

I cannot get this iPhone picture to turn right-side-up.  Sorry.  Just turn your head...

My grandfather also worked at HP for a time.  He was in production and then a master scheduler.

Mystery Monday: King of the Road

My grandfather’s sister, Fern, married a guy named, Johnny.  I called him Uncle Johnny and although he was a bit gruff, he was the kind of man that looked you in the eyes (even when you were six) and told it how it was.  You believed him and when he smiled at you, you know it was because you were awesome.  Or at least he thought you were.

My Grampa told me a story about Uncle Johnny’s Uncle Pierre (Jean Pierre Origer).  Uncle Johnny (and Uncle Pierre) were from Illinois.  Uncle Pierre was a sort of a hobo in those days, living wherever, doing whatever.  He would disappear for months, even years, and then just pop up again. 

During this time, Uncle Johnny and Aunt Fern had an orchard in Cupertino, California and one day while my grandfather was visiting, Uncle Pierre just popped in on them in California after months of being gone from Wisconsin.  He said he was in San Jose and heard the name “Origer” in “Origer Orchards” and so decided to see if he was related.  He stayed awhile and told some tales.

The kid in me finds this tremendously exciting.   I think it did to Grampa, too, as he mentioned him a couple of times and then got as excited as I did when we found a picture of Uncle Pierre.

The Monday Mystery is what were some of those awesome tales.  I sure hope someone knows.

Sentimental Sunday: Under the Sea Dance

I asked my grandfather how his parents met, as I realized that I had no idea.  I wish I’d asked my great grandfather when he was alive, but alas, I was too busy being a sullen teenager.  Anyway, at least I got the story now.

My great grandmother Anne Ellen Konst was a school teacher for awhile.  Her school was halfway between Midland and Capa, South Dakota.  Because it was 5 miles in either direction, she lived in a little house behind the school.  In rural areas, sometimes the most you had was a few people in each township, so they would get together in the schoolhouses for dances.  My grandfather, Orville Thomas Conner, came from his father’s homestead out in Ottumwa (about 10 miles to the train and then another 10 or 12 miles on the train) for a dance at my great grandmother’s school.

Now, Grampa didn’t tell me if it was love at first sight or anything, but look at these two?!?!?  Don’t you think it was, since they were married for 61 years.

Sports Center Saturday: A Rose is A Rose

As a family historian, I tend to think of my ancestors by their full names.  “William Mason Conner”  “Anton William Konst” “Elizabeth Bauhaus” “Petter Eriksson Felt”

So when you hear stories and they are “Bill”, “Tony,” “Lizzie,” and “Pete”, it’s a story and a smile all on its own. 

Also, I’d always thought that my great grandfather’s name was Thomas Orville Conner.  But it was Orville Thomas Conner.  I’d heard stories that he changed it from one to the other because he didn’t like being called “O’Conner” but when I visited my grandfather, he said that his mom and older brother Miles always called him “Orville.”  In Grampa’s papers, there was the delayed birth certificate which is listed to “Orville Thomas Conner”.  So I guess it’s official.  He was an Orville who was called, “Tom.”

Tom was a true cowboy; he broke horses and herded cattle through the Midwest.  When times were tough during the Depression, though, Great Grampa would do just about anything- from odds and ends around town to working on a bridge crew for the railroad.  He also was very well-respected in their small town of Capa, South Dakota.  Without being asked, he’d walk the 15 miles to Midland to fetch the doctor when someone needed him.  He was the first to volunteer to help out with anything anyone needed.

In those days, the baseball town teams were a very big deal.  Each town had a team and the kids played all summer.  There were two Native American railroad workers who were exceptional baseball players from Fort Pierre.  They were named Louis and Franz Franier and as they traveled their rail routes, they would teach the kids all over the Midwest to play baseball.  Tom convinced them to come to Capa and they played on the Kleven’s property by the river.  Tom was also the organizer, housing the balls and bats and arranging the games.