We Wouldn’t Be Here Without Quite a Lot of Incest

And you’re probably committing incest, too:  if your partner shares your nationality and ethnicity, you’re at least 10th cousins!

So — you in for a trip to 300 BCE to meet our most recent shared common ancestor?  (Too bad it’s Taiwan, not Greece — I need some help with my Ship of Theseus existential crisis brought on by the latter half of this video.)

Philosophy aside, here now is mathematical proof that Henry Louis Gates is right when he says, “We’re all mixed… we all have been intermarrying, or interrelated sexually from the dawn of human history” (source).

When You Bang Your Head Against the Wall Hard Enough, an Insane Lady Appears with the Answers (Part Two)

Part Two of Two.  (Read Part One here.)

Clues decide to peek out from their hiding places when they please.  All you can do is to try to put yourself in the likeliest position to glimpse them.  In early May the Bankoff brick wall finally began to give way, and it wasn’t from throwing various spellings of Bankoff at every database I could find, or desperately tracing the few Bankoff relatives I had found.

While searching an index of NY newspapers for my Wesoky line, I found this probate announcement, listing sisters Annie Wesoky and Sarah Bloom, whom I knew, followed by tons of other people, Bankoffs included!!!!!, whom I had never heard of. I went to Brooklyn Surrogate Court the next day, and the probate file confirmed that the deceased was another of Annie’s sisters mentioned on the back of that photograph. In fact, the hundreds of pages laid out five generations of Bankoffs, more than fifty people in total, with all their relationships to each other (see below).  I learned that my great-grandmother and her five sisters were among the nine children, including two or three sons (surprise!), who came over to the US around 1880-1890. I had all of their addresses for the early 1940s. I even learned that their mother, Mary, also immigrated, and was buried in Brooklyn not ten yards from a Wesoky great-great-grandfather I had visited a year prior!

Ida Goldberg probate file  Heirs of Ida Goldberg

With all these new names, I located cousins via the JewishGen Family Finder, who shared with me the sad history of their (grand)mother, who grew up in an orphanage because her mother, Annie’s sister Jennie, was mentally ill.  Fascinating as these stories were, they didn’t advance my research interests — or so I thought.  But our conversations encouraged one of these cousins to write away to the National Archives for Jennie’s immigration records.   I didn’t expect anything — women in that time period didn’t naturalize, and even if there were records, in that early period they were unlikely to give a place of origin any more specific than Russia or a date that correlated to an actual ship landing in NYC.

I was right that there was no paperwork in the file related to her first arrival.  But there was a second arrival in 1922, when she returned to the US to live with Annie after spending years in Canada with her second husband.  Jennie wasn’t just an unfit mother, it turns out.  She was so unstable that within months the Bureau of Immigration “recommended that the alien be deported to Canada on the grounds that she was likely to become a public charge.”  Her file contains assessments of her poor mental state from administrators at the various asylums and charities on both sides of the border which had attempted to take care of her.  Most revealing of all was Jennie’s testimony before the immigration officials.  She told her whole life story, starting at the very beginning… the town where she was born… the town whose name I had been working for years to discover:  Lachovitch!  Yes, Lachovitch, aka Lyakhovichi, aka Lachowicze, home of the Sanel Bankov I had given up on!

I took another look at the evidence and saw that the pieces fit.  Sanel may have been in his fifties when Annie was born, but Mary was in her mid-forties, and the other siblings’ birth years showed that Annie was one of the youngest by at least two decades.  The age of Nevakh, Sanel’s son, matched up to Annie’s brother Noah, called Noach on his ship manifest.  Now that I could reasonably claim Sanel as my own, his father and grandfather named on the Lyakhovichi records took me back to my great x 4 grandfather Mendel born in the late 1700s, the earliest ancestor in my entire tree!   Where I had once known the least, now I knew the most!

***

So, in the end, I prevailed:  I filled in the entire Bankoff tree, got the actual name of the town they were from, and even found records in that town tracing them further back!  I tell this story not only to brag about my success, but also because the way the mystery got solved connects almost every genealogical research technique:

  • Familiarity with basic records:  Annie Wesoky’s marriage license and Ida Goldberg’s probate file were both crucial links in the chain.  And also:
  • Specialized sources:  Various corners of JewishGen held the Lyakhovichi records which got me back two generations beyond Sanel.  Likewise the JewishGen Family Family, which got me to:
  • Finding living relatives:  I would have never in a million years written away for Jennie’s immigration file.  If I hadn’t connected to her great-granddaughter, the mystery would remain unsolved.  Furthermore,
  • Overcoming assumptions:  I was so sure what I would find in Jennie’s file that even if the idea had been recommended to me, I would have ignored it.
  • Cultural knowledge:  To reconcile the Netanel/Sanel mystery, I needed knowledge of Yiddish vs. modern Hebrew pronunciation.
  • Tracing other ancestors:  I found nothing through Annie herself, but everything through her sisters Sarah, Ida, and Jennie, whom I wouldn’t have known about without:
  • Clues in handed-down artifacts:  The inscription on the photograph led me to Sarah’s name, which got me to Minsk, which led me to the Lyakovichi records.
  • Being prepared for serendipity.  When I went looking for Wesokys, I found my missing Bankoffs, and when I went to fetch the Bankoff probate file, I found more on the mystery of my ill-fated Davis great-great-grandfather‘s death, which I wrote about last week!

When You Bang Your Head Against the Wall Hard Enough, an Insane Lady Appears with the Answers (Part One)

(Part One of Two.)

Sam Wesoky's birth on his sister's family historyWhen I began researching my tree, of my eight great-grandparents, there was one whose family name I didn’t even know — my father’s mother’s mother.  That grandmother died when I was quite young, and my father remembered nothing useful, so I ignored this branch until one day my mother found a list of family information in that grandmother’s hand, including this entry for her brother (inset).

With the NYC Municipal Archives only 30 minutes from home, Sam’s birth certificate (below) soon revealed the mystery last name…

Sam Wesoky's birth certificate

Marriage of Annie Bankoff

…and his parents’ marriage certificate (at right) filled in the first names of these great-great-grandparents.  “S” as the name of Annie’s father troubled me, since his name was literally carved in the stone of her tombstone as Netanel, but along with “singel” and “Marry,” I chalked it up as the work of a dumb clerk.

I naively thought I was hours away from filling in the rest of this family’s tree and immigration story, as I had been able to do so easily for the other branches I was researching at that time, but my usual research sites repeatedly failed to turn up anything on these three new-found ancestors.  Little did I know then how many years and how many twists this family’s research odyssey would cover.

***

It was not until years later, when I was browsing this grandmother’s photographs, that my next lead appeared in the form of one of the few labeled pictures:

Bankoff sisters   Back of Bankoff sister's photograph

Sarah Bloom obituary With five more Bankoffs to search, the only lead was this obituary from The Pittsburgh Press.  But Sarah’s last name finally got me census records, including one which remarkably listed Sarah and Sarah’s parents’ birthplace as not just Russia, but Minsk!!!!!  Breakthrough!

At the time Minsk was both a guberniya (province) as well as the capital city of that guberniya, so I still had a long ways to go.  I turned to Belarus SIG, JewishGen‘s research hub for the modern country containing Minsk, where I came across a listing for a Sanel Yoselev Bankov on an 1884 tax list for Lachowicze, a town in Minsk guberniya.  I began to think…  Netanel… S…  Sanel… and it occurred to me I had been tripped up by my modern pronunciation of Netanel.  Back then he would have been Nesanel, hence the nickname ‘Sanel, hence his appearance on the marriage certificate as “S. Bankoff!”  I so wanted to believe I’d found my guy, but there was no way to make the connection, and anyway, this Sanel would have been in his 50s when Annie was born.

Still, I couldn’t let it go.  Months later I found my way to a JewishGen site focusing on the shtetl of Lyakhovichi (the modern name of Lachowicze), whose site administrator shared a number of entries from the 1874 List of Jewish Males of Lyakhovichi which filled out this Sanel’s tree:

  • Mendel Bankov
    • Iosel Bankov, son of Mendel, born c. 1804
      • Sanel Bankov, son of Iosel, born c. 1828
        • Nevakh Bankov, son of Sanel, born c. 1852

However, my grandmother had listed her mother’s siblings as five sisters, no brothers.  It now seemed even less likely that this too-old Sanel with one son was my Netanel.  Of the infinitesimal number of records indexed online out of the small number of records recovered from the hundreds of destroyed shtetls in Minsk, there was no reason to believe that the one and only Bankov I could find was mine.  It seemed I had gotten carried away.

I had started with one woman and recovered her maiden name, parents’ names, five siblings, and even general birth area.  Maybe that was all I would ever find.  But the thing about a brick wall is that there’s nothing else you can do but patiently and repeatedly bang your head against it to increase the odds that a crack might one day appear.  Might.

Continue onto Part Two, wherein the insane lady makes her appearance!

What Was a 66 Year-Old Man Doing on the Roof of a Building, Anyway?

When I found the 1886 NYC birth certificate for my great-grandfather, Harry Davis, it was the first time I learned the names of his parents, Isaac and Sarah Davis. They were hiding in plain sight in numerous other birth certificates, censuses, Trow’s NYC Directory listings, and, of course, death certificates.  Their graves even turned out to be just a subway ride away!  All of this new information had me quite surprised — and somewhat disappointed — to discover I had ancestors who had done the typical immigrate-to-the-Lower-East-Side thing.  Previously I had thought all my family had gone straight to Pennsylvania.

All these distracting revelations prevented me from reading Isaac’s death certificate carefully the first few times through.  But eventually I beheld this doozy of a cause of death:

Isaac Davis' death certificate

“The chief and determining cause of his death was: Fractured skull and multiple fractures (illegible). Fell from 6 floor of building. That the contributory causes were: Dec. 19/’16 – 2 PM 97 Ave D.”

Of course I had to know what happened!  Estelle Guzik’s Genealogical Resources in New York led me to believe the police records wouldn’t have survived, and my calls to the hospital in which he died went unreturned.  The mystery lingered for years after that.

In May I found myself in Brooklyn Surrogate’s Court for a different branch (full story on that here), and while there, I looked up Isaac on a whim.  There he was!  His estate record held this tantalizing clue:

Isaac Davis' estate file

“A cause of action in negligence resulting in death against Esther S. Kaufman of 1?32 Ludlow Street NY.”

Suddenly the trail was hot again — a cause of action does not mean that there was a lawsuit, but it sure suggests there might have been!

I went back to the NYC Municipal Archives where I had pulled the death certificate so many years before and inquired about what court records might survive.  The archivist pointed me to a finding aid for the facility.  But before I even got made it to “court records,” alphabetical order hit me first with “coroner’s records.”  Tantalizing!

Indeed, on 12/19/16, Isaac Davis was listed in the coroner’s log as having died at 4:44 PM in Bellevue Hospital of a fractured skull.  A jury heard the facts of his and seven other men’s deaths on 2/13/16.  The findings of the inquest were published on 3/1/17:

Isaac Davis inquest findings

“Fract skull — multiple fractures of lower extremities caused on the day aforesaid while attempting to cross roof between buildings 97 Ave D. and 283 7th St. by accidentally falling between same.”

So:  the plot thickens.  Was the fall really an accident?  What did Esther S. Kaufman have to do with it?  What was he doing so far from his home in Brownsville, Brooklyn?  And what was an elderly peddler doing on the roof of a building, anyway?

I ran out of time perusing the coroner’s records, and I haven’t yet renewed my attempts to find the court records, if they even exist.  Hopefully I’ll find enough to write Part Two of this mystery!

Am I Your Next Genealogy Idol?

The second-ever Genealogy Idol competition is this Saturday, and I am competing! I just finished putting my presentation together, and I’m excited to tell you about two of my great-grandfathers, the tax code felon and the synagogue founder, plus my secret to making great genealogy progress without ever having to leave my apartment.

Register here to watch and vote from the comfort of your own home! Or, if you’re lucky enough to be attending the Southern California Genealogy Jamboree in person, please come to this session!

Saturday, June 9, 11 AM Eastern, 10 AM Central, 9 AM Mountain, 8 AM Pacific. Please vote! I could really use your support! Sign up now!

Update:  Congrats to Tessa Keough, who won!

This is Your Brain on Story

Brain MRI

In the picture above, red is your brain on story. Green is your brain thinking about social situations. And blue and yellow represent overlaps of the two. The point of the picture is that roughly the same regions of your brain are active when you read stories as when you interact socially. Any questions?

…?

Haha, yes, we’re only at the beginning of understanding the human compulsion to hear and tell stories, as I learned from the panelists at Why We Tell Stories: The Science of Narrative at the annual World Science Festival. Did our storytelling skills develop as an evolutionary advantage, or were they the side-effect of our evolving into the most social of all species? Are stories practice for how we might deal with extreme situations, or is the act of shaping events into a meaningful package the coping mechanism itself?

The causes we can only conjecture. But the demonstrable effect is that stories are a crucial way we make sense of our world. The MRI at the top reveals that reading stories activates the same network in our brain that helps us to understand other people. Other scientific research shows that the more people read, the more accurately they can interpret people’s facial expressions. What it comes down to is this: Storytelling is a simulation of the social world.  Engaging with a story requires imagining another person’s mind. Thus, stories increase empathy, which improves social interactions… which makes us better social beings.

At the heart of all our stories past and present remains a deep, unchanging curiosity about “what people are up to,” a fundamental itch we need to scratch. If stories are simple, primitive, and ancient, as the panelists agreed, what is more exemplary than the genealogical story? After all, the oldest stories, from mythology to the Bible, record both long lineages and involved family history as they grapple with our origins and ultimate fate. And if the whole point of story is to understand ourselves and our interactions, how better to accomplish this goal than through the lives of our forebears, people who are like us and shaped us?

Life is only finite in retrospect; it feels unbounded as we live it, sometimes terrifyingly so. But the stories of our ancestors are life made finite. The ending that death imposes allows us to give their lives an arc and an ultimate meaning that our own lives lack: storytelling as coping mechanism, indeed.  And if the value of their lives can persist past death thanks to our efforts, perhaps our ultimate demise need not be the end of our stories, either.

We who do genealogy have long been motivated by the belief that we are our family stories and are improved by this self-knowledge.  The research presented in this talk suggests that stories can actually change us.  So, the next time a friend or family member mocks your determination to uncover a long-lost family secret, tell them that you are at the cutting-edge of cognitive neuroscience-based self improvement techniques!

Who Do You Think You Are? Season 3 Superlatives

It’s been two weeks since the last (ever?) season of Who Do You Think You Are? wrapped up — time for superlatives!  Here are my picks:

Best Episode:  Jason Sudeikis’ three generations of sons without fathers.  Each generation’s story involved fascinating records and surprising twists, but the connection of each generation to the next made for the best episode-wide arc of the season.  We saw how the forgotten past influences our present, and Jason clearly got how lucky he was to have a father who broke the cycle.  Honorable mention to Edie Falco’s even more dysfunctional line tracing back to the orphaned daughter of a master mariner from Penzance.

Best Guest:  I loved how Reba McEntire connected her ancestors’ distant lives to her modern proclivities (ex: why she never liked England).  I loved how she personified her ancestors and addressed them directly.  I was moved when she apologized to her seven times great-grandfather for judging his decision to indenture his son.  Best of all, she got the irony that this indentured ancestor’s success paved the way for his prosperous descendants… to own slaves.  What a family story, and what a person to discover it!

Most Emotional Episode:  I give Rashida Jones’ lopsided family tree the slight edge over Rita Wilson’s father’s escape from Communist Bulgaria.  Although it was pretty clear early in both episodes where we were going, I cried with Rashida when she and her mother paid their respects at Rumbala and also with Rita when she read her father’s first letter from freedom.  But Rashida’s journey came as a total revelation to her; whereas Rita’s filled in details of a story she mostly already knew.

Most Ironic Disocvery:  The shiksa goddess from Mad About You turns out to be descended from Jewish aristocracy!  Helen Hunt seemed completely nonplussed by this connection (in contrast to her Augusta Hunt connection), but I was shocked!

Most Interesting Ancestor:  Blair Underwood’s three times great-grandfather, Sauny Early.  “Eccentric character wearing badges and cabalistic (sic) signs.”  “Second Jesus.”  “Negro religious enthusiast or lunatic.”  Given how many times he was shot — in the face, even! — declared dead, even! — he might not have been so crazy when he claimed that no man could kill him.  It also turns out he might not have been so crazy for “[declaring] war” on his neighbors, who in reality encroached upon his property.

Most Appreciative of His Ancestry:  Rob Lowe didn’t have the sort of Revolutionary War hero he expected, but his Hessian five times great-grandfather prisoner-turned-patriot proved to be a much more inspiring example for Lowe’s patriotism.

Most Enviable Breakthrough:  My most vexing brick wall is how the last name Davis prevents me from tracing this line into Eastern Europe.  But Rashida Jones’ Bensons were Bensons since the day Latvian Jews took last names in the early 19th c.!  It is extremely difficult to find these kinds of records in this part of the world, which makes the discovery all the more remarkable.

Agree?  Disagree?  What are your picks?

Learn from Ken Burns How to Wake the Dead

We tell stories to continue ourselves. We all think an exception is going to be made in our case, and we’re going to live forever. And being a human is actually arriving at the understanding that that’s not going to be. Story is there to just remind us that it’s just OK.

Thus concludes Ken Burns in Redglass Pictures‘ recent short documentary, Ken Burns: On Story, in which the man behind some of the best documentaries of our times steps in front of the camera to explain why he tells historical stories.  “Waking the dead,” he calls it, drawing a direct connection between his mourning process for his mother, who died when he was 11, and his drive to bring historical figures to life.

So much of what he says resonates with why I believe so strongly in learning one’s family history.  We genealogists can also wake the dead by finding every trace our forebears left of themselves, from memories that were passed down, to life changes that the government documented, and all the treasured artifacts that someone preserved in between.  Our “cast” may be less illustrious, primarily populated by people who would otherwise remain in obscurity,  but when we do our best work, when we transcend the mere interpretation of findings to understand the complicated nature of the people who left these traces, then we are getting at the emotional truths that matter most.  “Truth is, we hope, a byproduct of our best stories,” Burns posits, “and yet, an emotional truth is something you have to build.”  The effort is as required in genealogy as in documentary film.

But why bother?  History can be adequately conveyed through a textbook and family history through a tree.  Why must we coalesce all these facts into a story, when the work of uncovering these facts is hard enough?  Burns gives the answer when he says that “the kind of narrative that [he subscribes] trusts in the possibility that people could change.”  By people, he means as much the historical characters who lived through turbulent times as us viewers who have as much room to evolve in our own era through a change in perspective and broadening of context.

The real genuine, stories are about one and one equaling three…The things that matter most to us — some people call it love, some people call it God, some people call it reason — is (sic) that other thing, where the whole is greater than the sum of the parts.  And that’s the three.

In the case of genealogy, grandma may have gotten on a ship and sailed for America, where she met grandpa and gave birth to father, but the underlying reasons why she immigrated and chose grandpa, as well as the nature of the world she left and the one she brought father into:  these comprise the three in genealogy.  It’s meaning — it’s context — it’s Burns’ emotional truth plus genealogists’ family legacy.  It’s why it matters that we genealogists take the time to tell stories.

(Or watch here.)

Finally Someone on Finding Your Roots Has a Native American Ancestor

We’d call the guests on the season’s last episode of Finding Your Roots Hispanic, but two of them wouldn’t.  Linda Chavez sees herself as a “mix of European cultures,” and Adrian Grenier calls himself a “Native American white boy,” who checks the “Other” box on forms.  Only Michelle Rodriguez calls herself Hispanic.  To varying degrees they all came on the show wanting the evidence to bulwark these identities they had shaped for themselves.  But Gates’ own goal for the episode was the reverse, “to find out how such similar family trees could lead to such different identities.”

(Spoiler alert.)  Though Hispanic Americans are often lumped together with more recent Spanish-speaking arrivals, only one of Gates’ guests, Michelle, turned out to be connected to recent immigrants to the US. Though Linda faced discrimination as a child for being “Mexican,” her ninth great-grandparents came to the US in the late 16th c.  Arriving around the same time was Adrian’s 11th great-grandfather, one of the original Spanish settlers in New Mexico. In the early days of Spanish colonization the male settlers had no choice but to procreate and/or intermarry with Native Americans and African slaves.  As we learned in the last episode about the eastern colonies, only later did racial divisions set in in the west, when the Spanish created an elaborate class system to preserve the status of whites above the new racial mixtures.  The celebrities’ crazily tangled family trees were the result of intermarrying rather than risk losing their status.  Ironic given modern discrimination against Hispanic Americans.

And even more ironic since these bloodlines did not begin as pure!  The son of Adrian Grenier’s conquistador forebear had children with a Native American, as did Linda’s seventh great-grandmother when she was held captive.  But Linda’s suppressed racial history doesn’t end there.  The ninth great-grandparents mentioned earlier?  Crypto Jews who fled the Inquisition!  In fact, the large percentage of Middle Eastern genes in her DNA suggests other Crypto-Jewish lines as well.

It’s not this forgotten history that answers Gates’ original question about his guests’ differing identities, but much more recent events.  “Other” Adrian was raised by a single mother who wanted him to identify with his rumored Apache forebear more than the Hispanic community she left.  “Hispanic” Michelle (who cried “eeeuuw!” when she learned her DNA was three-quarters European) was raised primarily by her Dominican grandmother partially in the impoverished Dominican Republic.  And “European” Linda grew up knowing that her family’s illustrious past, including a former governor of NM, had been spoiled by a criminal grandfather.  Each internalized the hardships of their youth and shaped themselves accordingly.  What they learned on the show may or may not change them.

For the rest of us, we are reminded that history is written by the victors.  We neglect how much the Spanish shaped the US in favor of the current politicking over illegal immigration and failed assimilation.  These family histories defy the usual prejudiced assumptions, leaving us with as much to reevaluate as Gates’ guests.

Paula Deen’s Ancestors Owned Slaves

The early part of my personal journey in genealogy confirmed the obvious. While I had not previously known any of the towns or circumstances of my ancestors’ lives, everything I learned was exactly what you would expect for a person of my background. The surprises came later.

In Friday’s episode of Who Do You Think You Are?, Paula Deen traveled around the State of Georgia proving that she had deep Georgia roots. She learned along the way that her great-great-great-grandfather, John Batts, owned slaves — 35 according to the 1860 census. Somehow she was shocked to learn the news. “My family was never involved in slavery in any way,” she had previously believed. “It’s the hard reality of the Old South,” consoled the historian assisting her.

But Batts was not just any slave owner. He was one of the largest plantation owners, whose personal fortune, mostly consisting of slaves, amounted to a million dollars before the war. He was a congressman, state senator, and judge, who supported the pro-slavery candidate in the 1860 election. In short, he was a person who profited as much as a man could from this peculiar institution and did as much as a man could to preserve the status quo. He paid a terrible price: he never recovered from his son’s death in battle, and after losing his fortune in the 1873 depression, he shot himself in the head. Of everything that she learned and intuited, somehow what Paula most found in him was a “tremendous love of family.”

Perhaps Batts’ suicide explains why the family’s past got lost, but the episode left other unanswered questions. I most wanted to learn how Batts had risen to his position in the first place. I suspect Paula would have as well; her major take-away from everything she uncovered, as she explained to her sons, was “We are deeply, deeply vested in this beautiful state.”

I can connect to her Georgia pride 100%, since it’s how I felt to confirm that my ancestry connected me deeply to exactly what I most wanted to be connected to. But I wonder how she really felt about Batts’ full legacy. Today there are African-Americans who believe they are due reparations because of people like her ancestor. How should her family’s past affect her? Does it impose a moral obligation on her? Should the revelation change her or her outlook?

The episode ended with Paula exploring the overgrown landscape where the long-gone plantation had stood. People profited and suffered on the land by extremes, the country was torn asunder as a result, but not even the foundations of a house or the presence of a wild cotton plant remained to bear witness to what once had been. But the past was not obliterated entirely. Paula may have had had to search deep in archives all over the state, but the land at the center of her research — mere miles from her own birthplace — proclaims its past boldly: “Batts Road,” reads the street sign. It knows.