Thursday, March 27, 2008

Paydirt?

Reviewing our search for Patient Number One, George Sprague Barrows, we note that he was raised by an aunt alongside a cousin of about the same age, who would have been like a brother to him. While George never had children, his cousin had three: two boys and a girl. The two boys were fairly easy to trace forward in time, and we have tracked down their descendants. The girl, on the other hand, presented a more elusive challenge. At some point, she got married and could no longer be traced by her maiden name. Unfortunately, we have not located a marriage record for her, which would have given us her new name.

Last week, on a whim, I searched for her name in The Providence Journal's database, which stretches back to 1982. And we got lucky! She died in 1987 in Providence. The obituary listed her only surviving daughter and the city and state in which the daughter lived in 1987. Checking an online phone directory, I confirmed the daughter -- who would be George's cousin twice removed, the granddaughter of George's cousin -- was still listed in the same city and state.

So, I gave a call. And the trail grew cold. I tried virtually everyday for a week, but got no answer. Until tonight. I finally reached the woman, named Carol. She was so excited by the call that she interrupted our conversation to pour herself a glass of wine.

Things didn't start promisingly. Carol had never heard of George.

But she had heard of George's sister, Hattie. As a young woman, Carol used to go to Cape Cod to pick up Cousin Hattie and bring her to Rhode Island for family gatherings at Thanksgiving. "She used to sleep in my bedroom with me."

When I brought up the subject of photographs, Carol led on me a detour through a brief recitation of what she knew of her grandfather, George's cousin. The cousin grew up wanting to be a doctor, but he never got the chance. His dream was sidetracked by illness. As a result, he couldn't work indoors, but had to be in the open air. So, he got a job running a streetcar in Providence. Anyone want to guess what illness the cousin contracted?

After I steered Carol back to the subject of photographs, she told me, "My mother saved everything. She had boxes of things that I haven't even begun to open."

Could the producers of On The Lake entice her to go through those boxes now?

"I'd be happy to do it," she said. "I may be able to find something about these people."

I promised that I or someone else from the crew would contact her in a week or two and that I would send her some of the genealogy I had dug up, because she didn't know much beyond her grandfather.

She ended our conversation, "I won't be able to sleep tonight."

She won't be alone.

-Paul Parker

No comments: