I began doing serious research into my family tree about two years ago – though I’d been interested for a lot longer than that. I was lucky to start with John A. Rogers, my great, great uncle who was a Chicago alderman back at the turn of the twentieth century. My research unearthed lots of great information – gambling, money and murder. Just what every genealogist hopes for, notoriety. There were Chicago City Council records, newspaper articles, obits – he was a character, and John A. Rogers got me hooked.
My favorite is a Chicago Tribune article, titled:
John Rogers Says, “I’m Cold”He was sick with a fever and the doctor ordered him packed in ice. Of course he was the envy of the non-air conditioned city on that blistering July 4th. His personality came through as he joked: “First time I ever had cold feet.” Or when they quoted his response to allegations of running illegal gambling in his saloon.
“Yes, I’ve run a gambling house.” he admitted when the charge was made against him in his campaign for alderman. “But I’ve always run a square game.”The Chicago Tribune was a gold mine for info on Johnnie Rogers, but I found many of the less notorious members of my family in the census lists on Ancestry.com. I discovered to my surprise that 80 years ago, my maternal grandmother and great grandmother lived three blocks from where I live now. I walked by the building and wondered what their life was like then.
I started to go back 10 years at a time in the national census to trace my great grandmother’s life. I got back as far as 1920, but couldn’t find her in 1910. I knew she was there somewhere. I became obsessed and started looking block by block in the south side neighborhood I thought she might have lived in.
Finally, there was her name. I was surprised to find her living with her married sister in April of 1910. She should have been living with her husband because she was pregnant with my grandmother. Oh! It finally dawned on me that she was pregnant and unmarried that day when the census taker came to call. Now I had a picture of the young woman I had known so well when she was old. Had she been nauseous with morning sickness that day? Did anyone else know? Her sister? Did my great grandfather know yet? I pictured her scared and excited, listening to her sister give the census information and trying not to panic at what the next year would bring.
My eyes drifted up one line on the census sheet. The next-door neighbors. Wait, that was another sister and her family. I’d given them up for lost because I couldn’t find them, and I’d spelled their name everyway I could think of. But here they were – a huge family living just next door. I felt like they had all just looked up and started waving at me – “You found us! Hello!”
So, I look at my great grandmother, 20 in 1910, single and pregnant, living with her sister, parents long dead, soon to be married to my great grandfather. They would divorce after just a few years. She would live to be old and tell me wonderful stories, watch my sister get married and hold her first great great grandchild. She would watch the world change from horse and buggy to man on the moon.
But on that day she only knew that the census taker had come and taken her name. And that she was pregnant. I know how her story ended – it ended with me, my brothers, sisters, cousins and our children. Now I could see how it began.
I swear for a moment she sees me. I’m a daydream she has that day about her future and for a moment we catch sight of each other – she looking forward, me looking back. Then the census taker gets up to leave, they close the door and she’s gone.
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