Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Mary Hannah had the flu


April, 1917- Mary Hannah Had the Flu
She was to be married in a week and unless her condition improved in short order, the wedding would not happen.

Northampton, Massachusetts
Nineteen year old Mary Hannah Clark huddled in a blanket in front of the kitchen stove, wishing she could crawl inside of it. She could not get warm. She complained to her mother that her bones hurt and her arms felt like chicken skin. Food did not appeal to her and it was all she could do, to force down a little soup. She blamed her condition on work. She was employed at one of the houses at nearby Smith College and she was absolutely certain that is where she had contracted “this thing.” 
Some of the girls in the house had been bedridden for over a week with the malady and word had filtered down to a neighbor that one of them had died. Her mother was worried, but Mary Hannah was not in any mood to listen to her admonitions to eat something and to get back into bed. “I’m not going to die.” “I’ve got too much to do,” she told her.
Beyond her physical discomfort, Mary Hannah was worried. She was to be married in a week and unless her condition improved in short order, the wedding would not happen. As it was, she could barely stand on her feet for more than a few minutes. It was rotten luck, she thought. However, what Mary Hannah did not know how lucky she was to be alive. Mary Hannah had the Flu. The diagnosis would come by way of the local doctor, who examined her later that day.
1917 saw four flu related deaths in Northampton. Fortunately, Mary Hannah survived her bout with the disease.
However, the following year, a more virulent strain of the disease known as the Spanish Flu, broke out across the United States. It was the worse pandemic in the history of the United States. More than 500,000 Americans died from the disease.
The first symptoms of the Spanish Flu were seen on 27 August of 1918, aboard a ship on Commonwealth Pier in Boston. By August 30, at least 60 sailors were severely ill. It was the beginning of a long nightmare.
Once infected, the virus waged an unmitigated vicious assault on the bodies of its victims.

The victims of the 1918 Spanish flu suffered greatly. Within hours of feeling the first symptoms of extreme fatigue, fever, and headache, victims would start turning blue. Sometimes the blue color became so pronounced that it was difficult to determine a patient's original skin color. The patients would cough with such force that some even tore their abdominal muscles. Foamy blood exited from their mouths and noses. A few bled from their ears. Some vomited; others became incontinent. [1]

Unlike preceding Influenza pandemics, which killed the very young, the elderly and the infirm, this strain attacked healthy, young adults. Many victims became ill one day and died the next.
Northampton like other towns and cities ordered a shutdown of  schools,  public events and entertainment venues. Sporting events were cancelled. Fortunately, as the months wore on, the number of reported cases declined. In November, the Northampton Board of health voted to lift the ban.[2]  However, the disease persisted into the following year. In the end, Spanish Flu took the lives of 97 people in the city. [3] 
Mary Hannah never spoke of the Spanish Flu pandemic nor did she mention that her grandfather had passed in 1915, as a result of the disease. She seldom spoke of unhappy times. Like many of us, she chose to remember the beautiful moments of her life. Indeed, Mary Hannah’s story had a happy ending.  
On 17 April 1917, a gaunt Mary Hannah was married at Blessed Sacrament Church in Northampton. The Hampshire Gazette reported the event.

Miss Mary H. Clark, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. James M. Clark of Riverside Drive and Wilbur E. Cleary also of Riverside Drive, were married Tuesday morning at 9 o’clock in the Blessed Sacrament church, by Reverend T.P. Lucey, the nuptial high mass being celebrated. The party entered the church to the strains of the Mendelssohn Wedding march and during the ceremony Miss Barbara Carter sang, “O Promise Me” and “O Salutaris.” The couple was attended by Miss Helen Clark, a sister of the bride and Walter Cleary of Milford, N.H. a cousin of the groom. The ushers were Leo Clark, a brother of the bride and Walter Dobler. The bride was charming in a Copenhagen blue suit with black hat and a corsage bouquet of bridal roses and Gardenias. Her attendant wore a darker blue suit with black hat and pink Sweet Peas. A wedding breakfast was served at the home of the bride’s parents, after which Mr. and Mrs. Cleary left on a trip to Boston and New Hampshire. The groom’s gift to the best man was a set of Gold cuff links. The ushers received stick pins. The bride’s gift to her bridesmaid was a ring set with Sapphire. The young couple were the recipients of many gifts, including a sum of money from the college girls at the house where Mrs. Cleary was formerly employed.[4]






[1]      Rosenberg, Jennifer, ABOUT.COM: Twentieth Century History , “1918 Spanish Flu Pandemic,” [undated and unsourced text], About.com (http://history1900s.about.com/od/1910s/p/spanishflu.htm  : accessed 20 Jan 2012).
[2]      [Unidentified author], “Vote to Lift Influenza Ban,” The Springfield Daily Republican, 8 Nov 1918, p. 13, col. 4, digital image, Genealogybank.com (http://www.genealogybank.com  :  accessed 22 Jan 2012), Historical Newspaper Archives.
[3]      [Unidentified author], Pandemic Influenza Preparedness: “1918 Pandemic, Amherst, Hadley, Northampton and South Hadley,” [undated], Amherst College (http://www3.amherst.edu/~aliljestrand/1918pandemic.html : accessed 20 Jan 2012).
[4]      Edward Murch, transcriber and compiler, “Clark-Cleary,” Hampshire Gazette, 19 April 1917, n.p., n.col.

Monday, January 16, 2012

Identity Theft in 1928


Identity Theft in 1928

Before there were computers and cyber crimes, there was a wily cowboy named Walter A. Timbrell, who turned the world upside down for an unsuspecting stranger…

There was no reason for Uncle Roger to board a train in Northampton, Massachusetts for Nevada in the early 1920’s. However, he was an adventurer at heart and the West was calling him. His family was sad to see him go and though Roger wrote regularly and returned to Northampton several times over the following three decades, in the last years of his life, he lost contact with the family. Roger’s disappearance from their lives was a mystery that was often discussed among members of my generation.Through Ed Murch, a distant cousin and genealogy enthusiast, I learned that Roger served in the Spanish-American War. It was by way of Roger’s military pension file, I was able to piece together the events of his life and the story of a fateful meeting with a criminal in 1928, who stole his identity in an attempt to collect his military pension.
A military affidavit written in Roger’s hand, places him in Reno, Nevada in January 1928. According to the affidavit, it was there that he met ex-convict Walter Timbrell. Roger wrote:
       
          Jan.1928. I was living in Reno Nevada. While there I first got acquainted with Walter
          A.Timbrell, We got to talking, and I told him I was in the War with Spain, he asked, me
          many questions about my service, where and when I enlisted, in fact all about my enlist-
          ment, he even took down notes of what I told I saw him many times for about six months.
          He told me that he also served, but I never saw his discharge and have no way of  knowing
          anything about his war service except what he told me.
                  
In 1930, Roger applied for a military pension. By then, he was residing in Stockton California. The response which was forwarded to Roger’s attorney was stunning. It stated the claim had been rejected and that he was aware of the rejection, by way of a letter sent in 1928 to Walter Timbrell, who served as Roger Cashman.
Timbrell’s bogus pension application filed on 10 January 1928 was among the papers in Roger’s file. Though crafty, Timbrell was not an intelligent man. The phony application contained testimony regarding his personal status. According to his statements, he was married at the time he made the application and was divorced from Ilah P. Crigler of Chadron, Nebraska.
While I was appalled by Timbrell’s gall, I was intrigued that he was capable of conceiving such a scheme. The information regarding his former marriage was all I needed to launch a investigation of him.
I was able to obtain a copy of Criglers petition for divorce, filed 9 August 1899 from the Clerk of Courts in Broken Bow, Nebraska. This document contained intimate details of her marriage to Timbrell. The petition stated:
           
            … that he was a habitual drinker of intoxicating liquors and gambled away all of his
            earnings,therby being guilty of extreme cruelty to this plaintiff; that since the said 
            defendant so abandoned the plaintiff he has been convicted and sentenced to a term in
            the  state prison of the state of Wyoming , where he is now confined.

It was apparent to me that Timbrell was no stranger to crime. I queried the Wyoming State Archives and much to my amazement, I received a copy of his inmate file, which included a mug shot, a  physical description of Timbrell, his occupation (rancher) and the reason for his incarceration; the crime of Grand Larceny with a one year sentence at the State Penitentiary in Rawlins, Wyoming. The physical similarity between the two men was so strong, that I wondered if Roger and Timbrell were one in the same.
I was able to put that theory to rest, when I located an obituary for Timbrell, who died in 1941 in Lander, Nevada.

It took years and many hours of Roger’s life to untangle the web Timbrell spun. His pension file is filled with affadavits and letters to the Veterans Administration. In 1947, he enlisted the help of Senator E.P. Carville, who intervened on his behalf. With Senator Carville’s influence, the application was accepted and Roger received a pension of $300 per month.

The older I get, the more I believe there is nothing new under the sun. Roger’s story of victimization and the many years he spent struggling to regain his identity is as old as time and can be summed up in one sentence.
Once upon a time, before there were computers and cyber crime, there was a wily cowboy named Walter Timbrell, who turned the world upside down for an unsuspecting stranger, who by serendipity, looked like him.

Postscript: I will never know why Roger ceased contact his family. However, the military pension file provided letters and affidavits conceived by him and written in his hand. There were details of his life contained in those pages which I am sure were unknown to his family. When he died on 10 March 1955, the many telegrams sent to the family from the Veterans Administration were undeliverable, probably due to the misspellings of names and the lack of complete addresses. His sister Mary, who often spoke of him and cried over his disappearance, died just five days after he passed, never aware of  what became of her brother. A brother-in-law tried to convince Roger’s sister Julia to contact the VA about his disappearance, but she remained resolute in her belief that he would walk through the door any minute. So sad, one phone call may have brought their lost brother home.