Ancestry Magazine

I was parked in front of the TV a few nights ago when I received an unexpected phone call from Bob Velke, owner of Wholly Genes. He had a puzzle he suspected (correctly, as it turns out) I wouldn’t be able to resist. After we spoke, he summarized it in an e-mail:

My father-in-law, Thomas F. Reid, was a 26-year-old captain in 3rd U.S. Infantry Regiment (“The Old Guard”) in Ft. Myer, Virginia on 22 November 1963 when President John F. Kennedy was assassinated.

What happens when there is no heir apparent, but the found item is just too good to dismiss?
It happens sometimes. I work on an orphan heirloom case in an attempt to locate the descendants of the original owner of a family treasure only to discover that there are no descendants. The line has died out—and possibly even the branches most closely associated with it. What then?

Recently, I received an e-mail from Andy Likins of Colorado that got me thinking. He told about his good fortune—receiving a family history bonanza almost out of the blue:
Last summer, I was contacted by my father’s second cousin. He is now in his 80s, was moving into a retirement home, and wanted to pass along some family heirlooms.

This case is a little different from my usual orphan heirloom mysteries, and I suppose I should start out by fessin’ up that I came up a little shy in terms of resolution. But just as I was about to select a typical submission to research, I received an e-mail with a conundrum I simply couldn’t resist.

 
“Squirrel Driven ‘Nuts’ By Heat”
That newspaper clipping attached to Cindy Furman’s letter was all I had to see to know I was hooked. The owner of the scrapbook that held the clipping—a scrapbook Cindy found at Goodwill—had carefully noted, “Martha cut this from Cleveland paper—Summer 1936.”
I had to know.

I never thought I’d begin an article like this, but I have to start this one by asking you to pay close attention. This orphan heirloom case was such a doozy of a ride that it was hard for those of us involved to hang on, so it’s going to require some careful explanation. It began, as usual, with an e-mail.

I genuinely enjoy rescuing orphan heirlooms, solving mini-history mysteries so items that have wandered from their families of origin can be returned. In fact, I enjoy it so much that I do it for fun. So when I found myself wishing for a break from work recently, I decided to tackle a fresh orphan heirloom case.

Time for Another Rescue
It’s heartening to know how many folks out there are kind enough to protect another family’s possessions and make the effort to get these possessions back into the right hands. Carol Hertensteiner of Missouri is just one of these generous people.
Carol wrote me about a daybook that would clearly be invaluable to a member of its family of origin.

As I tackle orphan heirloom rescues, I often wonder how items stray from family hands in the first place. This request, received from Verma Goodwin of California, had the answer built in:
 
My grandmother, Lutitia Ann Dean (McKelvey, Ledbetter, Vaughan, Thompson), was married four times. Her third husband, James W.

In response to my request for orphan heirlooms (any item that’s strayed from the hands of the family of origin) to rescue, I received the following from Barbara Corotto of California:
“My mother was a genealogist who lived many years in Iowa. When she died, I started through her papers and was able to donate some research files to the Napa Genealogical Society.