The passing of a Civil War sailor

In genealogy research, it occasionally pays off to keep going back to the internet well. The Veterans’ Day holiday prompted me to do a quick search, again, for one of my 2nd great grand uncles, and Civil War navy officer, Joseph Watts. And, there he was. Or, rather, there was his gravesite.

Joseph fascinates me. As mentioned in previous blog entries, Joseph was a Second Assistant Engineer for the Union Navy. He served from 1863-1865. Joseph was part of the blockade, on board the USS Southfield, and then the West India Squadron. He returned home to Buffalo, and ultimately moved across the USA. I suspect that he had a fascinating story, and I would love to piece it together.

I had narrowed down the date of his death to the 1920’s, in northern California, but I had nothing more specific. Today, I was poking around in Ancestry.com, and found great-great-grand Uncle in the National Cemetery Administration’s U.S. Veterans Gravesites database. Now I know that Joseph died on 13 Nov, 1923, and rests in San Francisco National Cemetery.

Today is the anniversary of his passing.

Thanks for your service, Uncle Joseph. Rest in peace.

Ray O’Laughlin—Reforming My View of Our Family History

Today is the 115th anniversary of Raymond O’Laughlin’s birth. Ray was my great-uncle, and he was a nice guy.

By the time of my earliest recollection, Uncle Ray was in his seventies. He was my maternal grandmother’s brother. He lived with his two older sisters, “Mabe” and “Marge.” They shared one flat of their large house behind their South Buffalo corner store—at the intersection of South Park Avenue and Marilla Street. They were from a family of nine children; and, following the World War I death of his brother Frank, Ray was the only male.

What I remember most about Ray was that he liked horse racing. In that regard, he differed from his two roommate-sisters, who religiously played bingo (and his younger sisters who augmented their bingo with regularly scheduled poker games). In contrasting his hobby with that of his elder sisters, Ray was the source of my early economics and statistics education—communicating to me, in no uncertain terms, that playing the ponies was much more predictable and lucrative than bingo.

He was a nice old man, with good economic sense.

After his passing, at age 85, I started to understand that there was more to Uncle Ray.

At Ray’s funeral, the priest, referred to the departed as “James.” That seemed like an odd mistake, particularly from our pastor, who was not prone to such embarrassing slips. After the service, I mentioned the error to a family member, and it was explained to me that Father Stanton was probably technically correct because Ray may have changed is legal name from Raymond O’Laughlin to James Loughlin. This was because of some “trouble” he had gotten into as a youth, or was necessary when his brother-in-law helped him get a job on the railroad, or some combination of the two. An intriguing fact, but I did not expect to hear more details.

Two decades later, I started to research our family history. I stumbled across twenty-two year-old Ray’s WWI draft registration card. It was stamped EASTERN NEW YORK REFORMATORY. On the line for occupation, it listed “inmate Eastern New York Reformatory.” That was interesting. But, again, I did not expect to ever hear more details.

As additional context, I note that Ray’s mother, Mary Ann Calden, died when Ray was fourteen. A year later, the 1910 census identified Ray as a rivet heater in an oil refinery. By today’s middle class standards, extremely tough work for a fifteen year-old!

While searching old newspapers, I found an article mentioning Ray and my great-grandfather Patrick O’Laughlin. On 27 December 1911, the Buffalo Express ran the below notice titled “Court Lectures Youth.”

On request of the boy's father, Judge Maul in city court yesterday lectured forcefully to Raymond O’Laughlin, seventeen years old, of No. 98 Walter street….
Since October 29th, when he was arrested on his mother's complaint, he has been in the penitentiary. Yesterday his father, Patrick O'Laughlin, said he would sign a $1,000 bond if the judge would give the boy a severe lecture. Judge Maul agreed and Raymond was brought before him.

The complainant would have been Ray’s stepmother. It sounds like an unpleasant domestic scene, and apparently Ray spent his 17th birthday and Christmas behind bars. Ouch. (I wish I knew what my grandmother, who turned twelve during this interval, thought about this situation.)

The early life story emerging from these historical documents appears to contrast with the quiet, nice, great-uncle I knew. Is this dragging up irrelevant ancient history and harming the memory of Ray? No, I do not think so.

To me, this reinforces (on a magnified basis) that old cliché that no one is perfect, and, more importantly, that people change. It is good to forgive, but there is no lesson if we completely forget.

Ray turned out just fine. He lived a long, productive, life. His lifetime accomplishments certainly outweigh his youthful indiscretions. I am glad that I knew him. His life reminds me that we can all turn out fine, despite our hardships, failings, and poor choices. I will try to remember that lesson as my children grow and need forgiveness for their misdeeds. Or, when I need to forgive my own misdemeanors. I hope that I learn to be a nice old man.

sixty-fifth anniversary of a life change

This past Saturday (12 Sept. 2009) was the sixty-fifth anniversary of a pivotal day in my father’s life—the day he was wounded.

Private Gene Watts' regiment of the 29th US Infantry Division was attempting to retake Brest, France from German control. I believe that Dad was laying telephone wire when shrapnel shattered his right thigh. If I understand correctly the other soldiers who had accompanied him died that night, and he lied alone in the field all night.

Doc was twenty years old.

Dad rarely spoke of what happened that day, and I never heard him complain about what happened or blame anyone.

Silver Star

The below recommendation was kept by my father, Gene Watts. Dad and three or four other GIs were with Lt. Morehouse, as part of his patrol on the night documented. For security, the typed recommendation was redacted, but Dad’s handwriting filled in some of the blanks. This post is dedicated to Lt Carlton E. Morehouse, my father, and their companions.

For gallantry in action against the enemy in *****, *****. On 13 July 1944, Second Lieutenant Morehouse’s platoon was given the assignment of capturing two known enemy positions located on the road leading to ***** {St. Lo}. Such positions were to be used as a line of departure for the **** {3rd} Battalion, ***** {115th} Infantry supported by tanks in a contemplated offensive, the plans for which were predicated on a prompt acquisition of this sector. Largely through the aggressiveness and general leadership qualities of Second Lieutenant Morehouse, these enemy positions were captured. However, as the infantry and tanks were moving forward, they were subject to intense enemy mortar and artillery fire delaying their advance and inflicting casualties. Realizing the gravity of the situation, Second Lieutenant Morehouse, although in the face of decimating enemy fire, moved forward to a vantage point and located the enemy guns. From there, Second Lieutenant Morehouse immediately relayed fire data to his own artillery which effectively forced the enemy artillery to withdraw. While in the performance of this heroic act, Second Lieutenant Morehouse was mortally wounded by enemy fire. The aggressiveness, courage, and unselfish devotion to duty displayed by Second Lieutenant Morehouse reflect great credit upon himself and Military Service.

My father sent the above home to his own mother, and asked that she remember Lt. Morehouse in her prayers.

For the record, at the time of his death, Carlton Morehouse was twenty-three years, and two years earlier, in civilian life, had a been a musician. He rests in Arlington National Cemetery, Section 11 Site 819.

Let's all pray for him.

Watchman: a small genealogy mystery

Today, I may have solved a small genealogy mystery.

As mentioned, in past blog entries, one of my great-great-grandfathers was John B. WATTS. He was a carpenter—variously documented in census records and Buffalo City Directories as ‘joiner,’ ‘carpenter,’ and ‘ship carpenter.’

By the way, as also mentioned in an earlier blog entry, great-great-granddad was also a volunteer fireman.

The mystery, though, was an 1851 Buffalo City Directory listing for “Watts John, watchman h. 144 ellicott.” That was the family address. However, in the 1850 Directory, g-g-granddad’s occupation was listed as carpenter, and census identified him as ship carpenter. The ’52 Directory also said ship carpenter. So, where did the watchman occupation come from? Did John B. take a year off from carpentry? That seems unlikely. Was there another John Watts in the family? Possible, but I see no other evidence to support the existence of a namesake at that time.

Well…today I was reading Family Life in Early Buffalo. {Seriously, I was.} There was a reference to the Watch House, and went on to explain that:

At night, the watchmen, who doubled, as firefighters, would patrol the city streets in pairs, wearing leather fire hats with “City Watchman” painted on the forepiece....

Volunteer fireman, watchman,…ah, maybe that makes sense!

Yes, I am easily amused.

American Legion Francis O'Laughlin post No. 614 (Part 2)

My March 21st blog entry was about the possibility that an American Legion post was named in honor of my great-uncle, Frank O’Laughlin. At the time, all I had was a single 1919 Buffalo Express article, which indicated that a charter for a new Legion post had been presented. My immediate research plan was to contact Buffalo Fire Historical Society and the Legion's NY Historian. No response was received from the Buffalo Fire Historical Society. The Legion’s Historian did reply though.

In April, RJ Blevins—Historian, The American Legion, Department of New York—wrote. Unfortunately, Mr. Blevins informed me that Post No. 614 was in another part of New York, and bore a different name. Sadly, he wrote that he "cannot explain the newspaper article or the fact given of the charter being delivered.” Mr. Blevins was very nice, and polite, and provided me with names of current and past officials within the Erie County American Legion, who he felt, might be able to help me.

Despite Mr. Blevins’ kindly encouragement, I felt the Express article was a red herring, and most likely a dead-end.

Then…last week I received another letter from RJ Blevins! He had uncovered additional information. He discovered that, although post numbers are no longer reused, in the early years some numbers (such as this post’s) were reused. He wrote:

"The Francis A. O’Laughlin Post, No. 614 in Buffalo was chartered in 1919. The post was active about four or five years, then turned in their charter, around late 1923. The membership was low and the then officers, could not increase the said membership to keep the post active."

Well, maybe it is not a dead-end. So, I guess I will contact the individuals Mr. Blevins suggested at the Erie County Legion.







Note: Photograph courtesy of Lynn Dziak

A veteran’s birthday

Today would have been my father’s eighty-fifth birthday.

All my earlier blog entries have been about historical facts, or speculations, that I discovered through family research. Today is a bit different. I feel like writing about my father; and I cannot think of any facts that my family history research has revealed about “Doc.”

Dad’s name was Eugene Watts. He signed his name as “Eugene J. Watts,” but Joseph was not a middle name given at birth. It was his Catholic Confirmation name, which he bore with the pride that I am sure would have please the Bishop. When he was alive I did not know this, but Dad was not the first “Eugene” in the family. He had a granduncle with the same name; but I do not know if Doc knew that, or if Dad was named in honor of that gentleman. (So, I guess my family history research did give me some new fact about Doc—or at least his name.)

My father was a relatively quiet man, who very effectively and efficiently lived his life based on a few core principles. He was not loud or gregarious. He possessed a knack for economy of words, which is a trait that he did not pass along to his offspring. Although he did, surprisingly, leave us one poem, I have never seen a letter, diary, or story written by him. Never more than a crisp, factual, two or three sentence note. However, one day he felt compelled to leave a summary of his Army experience. This being Doc’s birthday, and with Veteran’s day having just past, I thought that I would share Dad’s characteristically concise chronology of his war experience.

Like many men of his age, and slightly older, Dad served in World War II. Moreover, like many of that number, his life was irreversibly changed by that service. In Doc’s case, there was a physical change, which the Veteran’s Administration categorized as a 40% disability—and a scar on this leg that was still pretty darn impressive three decades later. Although I have no real evidence as to how the experience changed him emotionally and spiritually, I have no doubt that it did—and that it therefore shapes me.


Anyway, the below words are my father’s. Hats off to him, and those he mentions, including my uncle Ralph “Juni” Watts, and Dad’s buddy Don Corrigan. We miss ya all.

--------------------------

Eugene Watts
USA #32929808
March 1943 – October 1945

Inducted March 30th, 1943
Fort Niagara—April 1st, 1943
Sent to Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, for basic training (75th Division)
First furlough—October 1943
Home of 5 day pass Christmas 1943
Maneuvers in Louisiana, January 1943
Start of journey “overseas”—to Camp Polk, La.
Then to Camp Mead, Md.
Next to Camp Shanks, NY
Left Port of New York 3:30AM March 23rd, on a “liberty ship.”
Landed Belfast, Ireland, April 4th
Based in Coleraine, Northern Ireland
Shipped to Bristol, England May 1944 (Westminster)
Left from South Hampton, England, and landed on Omaha Beach June 13th.
Assigned Company L—115th regiment, 29th Division.
In battles at St. Lo, Percy, St. Germain, Vire, and Brest, France.
Wounded at Brest, Sept. 12th, 1944, right leg broken by shrapnel.
(Sometime between St. Lo and Brest, had a visit from Ralph, whom I had not seen in almost two years.)
Sent to evacuation hospital in France, placed in a “body cast.”
Returned to England via L.S.T (Navy landing craft)
Move to Army hospital at Southampton, England.
Shrapnel removed from right thigh after infection developed.
Left Southampton Sept. 21st, 1944 and moved to 74the General Hospital at Bristol, England.
Traction applied.
While there had a visit from Don who was stationed in England with the Air Force.
Taken out of traction and again placed in body cast for shipment home.
Moved to 110th General Hospital for P.O.E. (point of embarkation)
(met Miss O’Mara here, she was an Army nurse from Buffalo—Mariemont St.)
Left the 110th on Dec. 6th 1944 Army hospital ship.
Hospital ship landed Charleston, S.C. Dec. 25th AM (Christmas)
Sent to Stark General Hospital. Called home from there Christmas morning.
Then sent to Battey General Hospital at Rome, Georgia.
Leg brace applied Feb. 1st, 1945
Home on furlough shortly after leg brace applied (Feb.)
Sent to Camp Edwards, Mass. For rehabilitation.
Home on furlough again in August.
Discharged from Army Oct. 30th 1945.
Again met Ralph, both coming home, discharged. His train from N.Y. made connections with mine from Mass., at Albany, N.Y.
(A strange coincidence to end this short story.)