2026 #52Ancestors, Week 3: What This Story Means to Me

Last week, I wrote about my husband's great uncle who had an unusual credit on a 1970s record.  My husband sent the blog post to his uncle, and his uncle asked what else I had found out about that side of the family.  Truth be told, not much, because my husband is usually of very little assistance/evinces very little interest.  However, if someone *does* take interest, I am always happy to do a bit of digging. 

I had done a basic tree for my husband's side of the family where most of my information came from censuses and the occasional obituary.  The 1958 obituary for my husband's great grandmother read simply, "Clara Lantz of 2234 Cortez Street, beloved wife of Theodore; devoted mother of Ben, William, Harry, Doris Levin, Shirley Teich, and the late Aaron; 13 grandchildren. Services Monday, 10 a.m. at chapel, 2235 W. Division Street."  They were all names I recognized, but I felt certain a few were missing.  As I looked back at my tree, I could see that Aaron had died in 1949, but why, if the obituary had recounted one 'late child,' did it not mention Molly, Theodore, or Hyman?

Short answer?  They weren't remembered.  They had passed so long ago that their own brothers, sisters, even their father, had forgotten to include them.  And I think that's why stories are so important to me.  Molly, Theodore, and Hyman lived - however briefly, but if no one speaks or writes about them, they cease to exist.  With that in mind, I'll share my limited knowledge of these three children of Theodore and Clara Lantz.

Molly was their first child. She was born in Russia on February 15th, 1907, and immigrated to the United States with her parents and brother, Benjamin, in 1915.  She lived to see the births of five more siblings.  Theodore and Aaron were born in 1915, William, in 1917, Harry in 1920, and Doris in 1921.  On the 2nd of November, 1923, Molly succumbed to carbon monoxide gas emanating from a faulty heater.  She was 16.

Theodore and Clara's third child, Theodore, was born on April 30th, 1915, and his birth certificate is the only evidence I've found of his existence.  His twin brother, Aaron, was born the following day.  If you look closely at Theodore's birth certificate, though, you can see that someone replaced "number of child of this mother" with a 4 and then indicated only 3 of the 4 are living.  I am left to assume that the certificate was amended to reflect that Aaron survived when Theodore did not.

Finally, Hyman was the baby of the family, born in 1929. I'm sure he was much doted upon.  Unfortunately, he didn't make it to his 3rd birthday. 

These three children lived, but when it came time to list the 'late' children of their mother, they didn't make the cut.  And I'm not being dramatic.  When my husband's uncle passed along the information he had about his father's siblings, there was no mention of Molly, Theodore, or Hyman.  So, what do these stories mean to me?  To me, they are a way of honoring and remembering those who came before, whether they lived for a few hours or 16 years.

2026 #52Ancestors, Week 2: A Record(ing) that Adds Color

This post did not go in the direction I initially intended.  Well, let me revise that statement.  I had intended to write about my husband's great uncle, Harry Leon Lantz, and I did...but not in the way I had planned.  

In his time, Mr. Lantz was a well-regarded cellist, conductor, and music educator.

Here he is at a rehearsal of the Parkside Baroque Players at UW Parkside in Wisconsin.

The Journal Times, Racine, Wisconsin, 22 Sep. 1969

The article above gives his musical history up to 1969. He later became a professor of music at Peabody College of Music in Nashville, Tennessee, (now part of Vanderbilt University).  In 1977, he became an associate professor for cello and the conductor of the Baylor Symphony Orchestra at Baylor University in Waco, Texas. My thought was that he had either released a couple recordings of cello music, or there were recordings of symphonies he had conducted.  My intention was to locate one of them as my "record that adds color."  And here's where things got a bit odd. A quick search did reveal that Harry Lantz  recorded cello music on the RCA Victor and CRI labels, but that search also lead me to this Burt Reynolds record.

How did a search for Harry Lantz bring me here, you ask?  I asked myself the same question, but as I scrolled through the page's information, I discovered a credit for one Harry Lantz on the strings.  I thought to myself, "It must be a different Harry Lantz," as I searched for additional information on this album. The MusicRow website had little to say about it other than that Reynolds came to Nashville in 1973 to create Ask Me What I Am...and that the record was not a success.  Nashville, Tennessee, is precisely where Harry Lantz was in 1973, but I still wasn't 100% convinced I had the right person until,  upon further investigation, I discovered another Peabody College music professor, Samuel Terranova, had also loaned his talents to this record.

I started this post intending to leave the reader with some beautiful cello music. Instead, I will leave you with the link to a long forgotten country album featuring the vocals of Burt Reynolds...and the string contributions of Harry Lantz.

Overlooked

Sometimes you overlook potentially helpful information because you don't have enough information to realize that it's helpful. No, really.  Stay with me.  It makes sense.

My great great grandfather, Pietro Aloisio, immigrated to the United States in 1916, and settled in Manchester, Connecticut.  Census records and city directories confirmed his residence in that town from 1920-1932. He died in 1933 as evidenced by his headstone at St. James Cemetery - also in Manchester.  I couldn't find an exact date, though.  The only potential lead I had was the Connecticut Death Index.  It stated a Peter Aloisio had died January 11, 1933, in Preston, Connecticut.  To me, this just didn't add up to a hit for my ancestor.  Pietro had always lived in Manchester.  After his wife's death in 1928, he had moved in with his son and daughter-in-law (in Manchester) and was still living with them in a 1932 city directory.  At 80+ years old, it seemed unlikely that he would have much reason to be 50 miles away from home.  So I left it (and Pietro) alone for some time.

My breakthrough came when I unearthed this newspaper article. 

"Attempts to Commit Suicide," Hartford Courant, 4 Oct. 1932, p. 7

"How is this helpful?" you might ask.  Suicidal people were frequently committed to psychiatric hospitals, so I followed a hunch and searched for such a place in Preston, Connecticut. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that Norwich State Hospital (for the mentally ill and criminally insane) opened in Preston, Connecticut, in 1904 and operated in some capacity until 1996.  Now my overlooked Death Index hint seemed more likely! 

Of course, the facility is now closed, and the files are only available through the Connecticut State Archives, so an inquiry was in order.  I sent one in June 2024 and didn't receive a response until almost 6 months to the day.  (Perhaps *they* had overlooked my query.)  At any rate, long story short:

As you can see, he was admitted to Norwich State Hospital two days after the date of the newspaper article.  He died there a few months later from a cerebral hemorrhage. 

Favorite Unknown Photo

 

This sassy little child is from an album of cabinet cards I received when my grandmother passed away in 2018. The outside of the album, while heavily frayed, was in solid condition, but the pages were somewhat worn, and many of the cards were falling out.  Carefully, I removed each card, looked for any distinguishing marks, labels, etc., took a photograph, and then put it back.  Of course, not a single photo in the album had any discernible labeling.  I wasn't even entirely sure whose family I was looking at!  Finally, after a little bit of luck and a lot of sleuthing, I was able to identify 2 sisters (Pernilla and Nilla) of my great great grandfather, Ola Swanson, so my best guess is that the album contains his extended family.

The album boasts many, many delightful - but unidentified - photos, and this is just one of them.  It was taken at A.M. Rothschild's department store in Chicago, but that information has not afforded me much success in regards to identification. I'm not sure what it is about the image that draws me to it, but I think it's the expression on this young child's (boy or girl?) face. He/she is obviously pleased to stand for the photo, sailor's outfit, cap at a jaunty angle, and hands confidently on hips. Not every child is so obliging when asked to pose for a picture!  Also, photography wasn't exactly inexpensive back then, so I wonder if this was taken for a special occasion.  Why the sailor outfit?  Did some distant relative send it as a gift, and the mother was providing evidence it had been worn?

So many questions, but I suspect there is very little likelihood I will ever identify the subject of this photo, and that is upsetting.  I'm sure someone, somewhere knows this self-assured mite and would treasure the photo as even I cannot.  One day soon, I will upload all the cabinet cards to DeadFred.  And if anyone has any other suggestions, I am certainly open to them!  

Let's Start at the Very Beginning

#52Ancestors, Week 1

Sung to the tune of "Do-Re-Mi" from The Sound of Music

Researcher to family:

Let's start at the very beginning -
A very good place to start.
When you read, you begin with A-B-C.
But research begins with, "Let me see..."

Family:

"Let me see...?"

Researcher *nods*:

"Let me see."
Genealogists begin with, "Let me see..."
Let me see if I can find the... *family looks confused*

*Researcher sighs*
Ok, let's see if I can make it easier.

Birth, a vital record must
Census, a glimpse of where they lived
Marriage, maiden names are critical
Death, who did they outlive?

News, a clipping you must find
Church, a resource, it is true
Brick wall - I think I must be blind!
And that will bring us back to birth.

Now, researchers… Birth, census, marriage, death, news, church, and brick walls, and so on are only the tools we use to build a tree.

Once you have these tools at your disposal, you can find a million different relatives by mixing it up like this:

Marriage, death, brick wall, birth, census, church, news...

Family:

"Can you do that?"

"But it doesn't mean anything."

Researcher:

When you know which clerk to ring,

You can find most anything.

Family:

But it doesn't mean anything.

Researcher:

So we put it into a GEDCOM, like this:

When you export your family tree,

You may find your ancestry.

*Family sings along, although they still have no idea what the researcher is saying*:

When you export your family tree,

You may find your ancestry.

Gone Too Soon

***This post was transferred from the Finding Horace blog.***

Originally published on Finding Horace 26 Feb. 2023.

My grandfather was Matteo (Martin) Francisco Palermo.  Everyone called him Mike. At the young, young age of 38, Grandpa Martin succumbed to…something.  My grandmother claimed he died because the nurse left the window of his room open after a surgery.  My mother suspects he died from mesothelioma because he worked in the naval stockyards.  I believe his death certificate cites pneumonia. My dad doesn’t have anything to say concerning it because Grandpa Martin actually died the February before my dad was born.  Grandpa left behind 1 daughter from his first marriage, Dolores, and 2 children (my aunt, 3, and dad, unborn) from his second marriage. 

Honestly, I grew up thinking my step grandfather, Ralph, was my actual grandfather. I don’t remember when I found out about Grandpa Martin, but I do know that when I did, no one mentioned he had an additional child from a previous marriage.  I would eventually find her children through the magic of Ancestry.  By then, she was long dead, so I couldn’t ask her anything about what Grandpa Martin had been like.  The lovely photo included in this post is her with Grandpa Martin, and he certainly looks like a doting father.  

I’m not sure where I’m trying to go with this except that, at 38, he should have had the best years of his life ahead of him.  He should have been there to laugh with my grandmother over the antics of the children. Maybe they would even have added another child or two to the mix. He should have lived to see those children grow up and get married. His beautiful smile would have stolen the show at any momentous occasion. He should have lived to share his jokes with his beloved brothers and sisters-in-law in their various homes in New York.  (It is worth noting that he is buried next to my great grandparents - his in-laws; they wanted it that way.) He should have been able to spend his waning years with his beautiful wife by his side and his grandchildren at his knee.  He would eventually have 7 of them, 6 girls and one boy.

He missed out on his son and all 7 of his grandchildren. From what I have been told, we missed out, too.

Martin Palermo - Gone Too Soon

August 25, 1910 - February 9, 1949

Family Gatherings

***This post was transferred from the Finding Horace blog.***

Originally published on Finding Horace 7 Jul. 2024.

As far as I am aware, we have never had any family reunions on either side of my family.  We get together primarily for wedding and funerals (sad, but true - it is the same for many other families).  Below is a picture of the most recent family gathering on my dad's side, my cousin's wedding.  In the photo are his wife, sons, mom, sisters, and nieces and nephews, but it also includes his aunts, uncles, and cousins from both sides of his family.  Ever the genealogist, I made sure to get one that was just the first cousins, too.  😇

While there have never been any official reunions, for many years a friend of my mom's side of the family hosted an annual Glögg party.  Glögg is a type of mulled wine that originated in the Nordic countries around 3000 years ago. It eventually became associated with Christmas, but it was also a popular drink for any kind of social gathering.  Chuck and Ozzie (Arlene) Walley were friends with my grandmother, Marilyn (Swanson) Pearson.  Consequently, their parties were attended by Pearsons and Swansons alike.  These holiday parties continued well into my late teens, and I remember the annual argument about how long the drink should burn.  (Traditional glögg is set on fire in order to completely dissolve the sugar granules, but you don't want to burn off all the alcohol!)  Chuck and Ozzie threw a heck of a party, and I have many memories of the warmth and scent of them.  Maybe some of the attendees weren't blood relatives, but they were family anyway.