One Crimson Petticoat: Female Lines and Real Lives -- Part 3 -- Yvonne P. Divak --------------------------- Another source of information is the obituary. There is an old saying that a lady's name appeared in the public newspaper only twice: once when she married and once when she died. This saying applied to most of the women of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Some women did not make it even then. In order to use effectively an obituary, you have to know the death date of you subject or, at least, the year in which she died. If her husband was famous, her name can usually be located in newspapers other than those of her hometown. An example is Maria Ketchum Walworth (1795-1847). Her husband, Reuben H. Walworth (1788-1867), was the last chancellor of New York State. Mrs. Walworth died in Saratoga Springs, New York; however, this short obituary appeared in the New York "Municipal Gazette," 30 June 1847: Departed this life at Saratoga Springs, on the 24th of April, Mrs. Maria Ketchum, wife of Chancellor Walworth, aged 51. Upon her dying bed she bore the most decided testimony of the truth of the Christians' hope; her Saviour sustained her, and her end was peace. But, you might argue, and with some reason, this obituary does not really say anything at all. Take a closer look. Mrs. Walworth was a lady. A true lady of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries had no career--no life, actually, outside of her home and family. This obituary, besides giving us Mrs. Walworth's maiden name, death date, place of death, age at death, husband's name, and occupation, also tells us that she was religious, and that she sought to teach those around her at the end the "right" way to die--just as a proper wife and mother was supposed to. Unfortunately, if you are searching for a poor woman or for one who is Native American or Black, your chances of finding an obituary are very slim. This also tells us something of the culture and environment in which these women lived. If a white, wealthy, woman was "invisible" to the public, save on very special occasions such as marriage and death, the poor, the Black, and the Native American never appeared at all. These women are the hardest to locate. If your male subject owned property and died before his wife, you might try the dower records. A dower gave the widow a lifetime right to one-third of her husband's property, which, you might recall, may have belonged to her in the first place. When Gideon Putnam of Saratoga Springs, New York, died in 1812 from pneumonia at the age of forty-nine, he left a widow and nine children, ranging in ages from twenty-six to four-and-a-half years. He also left a substantial amount of real estate in and about Saratoga, which included a large house and two hotels or taverns. His wife, Doanda, sold the newer hotel, but kept the old Putnam Tavern as her dower right. For years, she and her sons conducted a very profitable business at what later became on of the most popular hotels in the United States. All right, you have tried just about everything: census records, wills, church records; obituaries--everything. But your subject was not rich, and she did not come from New England. In fact, she was a black slave who lived on some plantation in southern Georgia sometime between the Revolution and the Civil War. Give up? Of course not. First, learn all you can about the state of Georgia. From where did these planters import their slaves? The foreign slave trade was prohibited by the U.S. Constitution in 1807; but it was done secretly right up to the beginning of the Civil War. Many Georgia planters obtained their new slaves from Virginia, which served as a "breeding ground" for the rest of the South. Learn about these plantations. How large were they? What kind of crops did they raise? What was the general treatment of slaves? You may never actually locate your ancestor or subject; however, you will gain an insight into the type of life that she led. And do not discount your relatives. Very often, stories handed down from one generation to another, those legends that an older relative tells you, probably have kernels of truth hidden in them--clues that may lead you directly to your own ancestor. Remember, that is how Alex Haley got started. ================================================= One Crimson Petticoat: Female Lines and Real Lives, Part 4 – Yvonne P. Divak - ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -- Eat the foods that your subject may have eaten. Listen to the stories told in the language that she spoke. Sing the songs that she sang. Did she speak the lilting English one finds in the King James Bible? Or did she speak Gaelic, or German, or Italian, or Oglala Sioux? Did she live on the Great Plains or in Boston? Was she a "lady" who hired other people to work for her, or did she labor on a farm, or in a cotton mill, or on a plantation? Did she live to be one hundred, or did she die at thirty? Names are important. Our names separate us from other people. My name is a part of who I am. But do not forget your subject's "spirit." After all, if she is your ancestor, a part of her still lives within you. Try to see her life as she would have seen it. If your female ancestor was a pioneer in the early American wilderness, think about what this must have meant to her: To be left alone, surrounded by the darkness and wild animals, with only a candle to offer light and only a fragile log cabin to keep her safe from the dangers without. Often these women were left alone for days at a time as their husbands went hunting or off to war. The movie, "Drums Along the Mohawk," gives an excellent portrayal of the growth of a pioneer woman--from a dependent, frightened girl to a seasoned woman, filled with quiet strength and determination. Could she have been your ancestor? If you can find you female ancestor's full name, congratulations. You are one of the lucky ones. You can now go back or forward to another generation. But if you cannot find her full name; if you cannot find much, or any, information about her, don't despair. Think of this name as a real person, and try to put yourself into her situation--a reversal of genes, if you will. A short time ago, I came across the inventory of one Mary McDonald, who died about 1824 or early 1825 in the town of Ballston, Saratoga County, New York. I have no idea how old she was or what she looked like. I think she was married to Michael McDonald, an early pioneer of the area who died about two years prior to her own death. But I am not certain. Her inventory was finished in April of 1825 and contained three, neatly written pages of articles that she had owned, debts she had owed, and money owed to her. She does not seem to have been a poor woman. I recall reading down the lists of "Personal Property" in a casual way--I have read hundreds of these things, and usually they are rather dry. "One Beadstead [sic] and Chord. Two old Callico [sic] Quilts." Yes, yes, I thought. Nothing new here. "2 Flannel Shirts. 1 Red and Blew [sic] Plaid Gown. 1 Crimson Petticoat . . ." Whoa! The nameless subject that had appeared to me in shades of pedestrian grey, suddenly took on a new personality. It seems that Mrs. Mary McDonald also owned "1 Scarlet Cloak." Did she wear the cloak when she wore her crimson petticoat? Did her eyes twinkle when she walked down the street? Did she deliberately lift her skirts, just a little, in order to show off her bright undergarment? Ah, Mary, I wish I could have known you better. I wish I could have met you. Despite legal opinion, despite lingering beliefs, the women of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries were not nameless, faceless, invisible shadows. They were people with real fears and real loves, with real lives. And, as you can see, some of them did sparkle. ==============================================