The Baker: Minnie Porterfield Wilson

My great-grandmother through her daughter, Bernice.

Minnie Mae Porterfield Wilson, my maternal great-grandmother, came into this world on May 29, 1885 in Hazelton Township, Shiawassee County, Michigan. She was the first of two children for Ellen Zendler and George Porterfield. Her brother John Wesley came along in 1889.

Minnie and John Wesley circa 1893

George was a farmer. The 1900 census states that he emigrated from Canada to the US in 1870, and that his father emigrated from Scotland. Ellen was also born in Canada, having emigrated in 1879 with her German father and English mother.

Another fact that sticks out on this census record is the name of her future husband and his family living a few houses away. I can only conclude they met because they were neighbors, or maybe they attended the same church. This area of Michigan is rural now; I imagine the closest neighbors during this time could be miles away.

She married Fred Wilson on December 25, 1906 at her parents’ house. Her uncle, Samuel Porterfield, a local Methodist minister, officiated the wedding.

“While At Wedding,” Flint Daily Journal (Flint, MI), 26 Dec 1906, p 1

The couple had three children: two daughters and a son. They stayed in Hazelton Township until 1917 or 1918, when the family is listed on Becker Street near Corunna Road in Flint. Two years later, they are in Flushing. I think Fred got a job at an auto plant and wanted to move closer to work. He continued to farm though when he lived in Flushing.

(l to r) Fred, Wilma, George, Bernice, and Ellen Wilson

Minnie and Fred lived in Flushing and Swartz Creek the rest of their lives: first on Dillon Road, then Beecher, then 2444 Seymour Road.

Bottom row: Wes Porterfield, Ersal Porterfield, Unknown girl, Unknown boy, George Porterfield, Charles Porterfield. Center: Bernice Wilson. Top: Ellen Porterfield, Minnie Wilson, Wilma Wilson, Unknown woman, Fred Wilson

In 1947, the family endured a tragedy when daughter Wilma, her husband, and two of their four kids died in a car crash. The two survivors of the crash lived with Fred and Minnie on the Seymour Road farm.

Minnie and Fred celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary on December 25, 1966. When Fred passed away on May 28, 1967, Minnie moved in with her daughter Bernice on Labian Drive in Flushing.

She passed on April 30, 1974, in Flushing at the age of 88 from heart failure. She was buried in Flushing City Cemetery. She was a member of the First Baptist Church of Flushing, the Fellowship Class, Golden Rule Missionary Society, and the Golden Age Organization of Owosso.

Notable Facts

Minnie Porterfield Wilson shouldn’t be confused with her cousin, Minnie Porterfield Barnes Canfield Robinson, the daughter of James and Teresa Boyce Porterfield, who lived nearby and was 2 years older.

My mother remembers going to Minnie’s house and seeing tons of baked goods in her kitchen.

Sources

Ontario Canada Births, 1869-1913
Archives of Ontario; Series: MS929; Reel: 11. Accessed on Ancestry.com.

Canada Censuses
(1881 – 1911)
Hibbert, Perth County, Ontario; Hensall, Huron County, Ontario. Accessed on Library and Archives Canada or Familysearch.org.

US Federal Censuses
(1920 – 1940)
Genesee County, Michigan. Accessed on Ancestry.com or Familysearch.org.

Ontario Canada Marriages, 1801-1928
(Archives of Ontario, MS932, Reel: 83)
Accessed on Ancestry.com.

US Border Crossings From Canada
National Archives and Records Administration; Washington, D.C.; Manifests of Passengers Arriving at St. Albans, VT, District through Canadian Pacific and Atlantic Ports, 1895-1954; National Archives Microfilm Publication: M1464. Accessed on Ancestry.com.

Michigan, Death Records, 1867-1950
File Number 011077. Accessed on Ancestry.com. Ordered on seekingmichigan.org now Michiganology.org. Personal records.

“Obituaries and Funeral Notices”,
Flint Journal, Flint, Michigan, September 24, 1946, Page: 18; Col 6; Item 7. Personal records. Accessed at Flint Public Library.

“The William Harburn Family in Michigan”,
Flushing Sesquicentennial History 1835-1987, Flushing Area Historical Society (Michigan), Vol. 2 (1987). Page 166. Personal records.

Findagrave.com
“William M Harburn,” ID#62465870, Flushing City Cemetery, Flushing, Genesee, Michigan

Family Stories

The Farmer Mechanic: Fred Wilson

My maternal great-grandfather through his daughter.

Born to Ambrose Wilson and Lucy Thompson on August 4, 1882, Fred Newell Wilson was the third of five children who grew to adulthood living on a farm in Hazelton Township, Shiawassee County, Michigan.

The Wilsons had been in the state for just over a decade at Fred’s birth as his grandfather Thomas used his Civil War pension to move his family from near Rochester, New York, sometime between 1865 and 1870.

Hazelton Township and the village of New Lothrop just north of it were very small. So small that Fred and his future wife were mentioned numerous times separately in the newspaper.

Fred married his neighbor and likely his fellow parishioner Minnie Mae Porterfield on Christmas Day 1906. While at the wedding, his parents lost their barn in a fire.

They had three children: Bernice, Wilma, and George. By 1918, he and Minnie moved to Flint. On his WWI draft card, his employer’s name is Chevrolet Motor Co. and his occupation is “work on motors.” His physical assessment describes him as tall, medium weight, with black eyes and black hair. By 1920, the Wilsons lived in Flushing, a suburb of Flint.

(l to r) Fred, Wilma, George, Bernice, Minnie about 1920.

Fred had farmed for most of his life and, according to census records, continued to do so, to make ends meet. Frequent address changes in records seem to indicate that Fred had a house in Flint nearer the auto plant and kept a farm in Flushing as well, and the family split time between places.

By World War II, Fred is self employed and the family lived on a farm on Seymour Road in Flushing.

In 1947, the family endured a tragedy when Wilma, her husband, and two of their four kids died in a car crash. The two survivors of the crash lived with Fred and Minnie on the Seymour Road farm.

He and Minnie celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary on December 25, 1966. Fred passed away of a stroke on May 28, 1967 at age 84. He is buried in Flushing City Cemetery.

Notable Facts

In every record Fred, his wife, or his daughter filled out, they pointedly wrote Fred Newell Wilson as his full name. Not Frederick. If it was his given name, he clearly didn’t use it, so I don’t either.

Another note on Fred’s name: Apparently, the family pronounced Fred’s middle name Newell as “Noll.” It wasn’t until my mom saw it written out that she found out it wasn’t spelled Noel.

Sources

US Federal Censuses
(1870 – 1950)
Ontario County, New York; Shiawassee County, Michigan; Genesee County, Michigan. Accessed on Ancestry.com or Familysearch.org.

Michigan Birth Records, 1867-1902; Roll #4207042, Image 213 of 850. Accessed on Ancestry.com

Personal files. Application for Social Security, “Fred Newell Wilson.”Accessed from National Archives site.

Michigan Marriage Records, 1868-1925; Roll #4209085, Image 564 of 628. Accessed on Ancestry.com.

Military Draft Cards. WWI and WWII. Fred Newell Wilson. Accessed on Ancestry.com.

Michigan, Death Records, 1867-1950. Accessed on Ancestry.com.

City Directories 1918, 1931. Wilson, Fred N. (Flint, Michigan)

Obituaries, The Flint Journal (Flint, Michigan) 30 May 1967, p24, Col8, item 4. Accessed at Flint Public Library, 16 May 2019.

Findagrave.com
“Frederick Newell Wilson,” ID#64118849, Flushing City Cemetery, Genesee County, Michigan

Family Stories

War Injuries

The following [WARNING] anatomically explicit and graphic document resulted in the money that my 3rd great-grandfather, Thomas Wilson, would use to move his family from Canandaiga, New York, to a farm he purchased in central Michigan. He built a farm that supported his son, his grandson, and his great-granddaughter who was also my grandmother. The farm was sold, and his descendants moved to the largest town east.

Transcription: 
ACT JULY 14, 1862
Brief in case of Thomas Wilson, A Priv[ate] of Company L, 24 Regiment, N[ew] Y[ork] Cav[alr]y
Post Office Address of Applicant:
Gypsum, Ontario Co, NY
Enlisted Jany 18, 1864, Discharged July 14, 1865
CLAIM FOR AN INVALID PENSION
Declaration and Identification in Due Form
PROOF EXHIBITED
1 Rolls say wounded July 9/[18]64
2 Capt while in service certifies to gen of right thigh, received in the trenches before Petersburg from a shot by the enemy July 9/64

Transcription: 
3 Dr Chapin, July 19/67 finds gsn of right thigh splintering the bone, passing across pubis of right side and out through cellular tissue and substance of penis at the root. Urine passed through the opening. The consists of injury of muscles inserted at the pubis rotating the leg and inability to retain urine more than one or two hours. Too much lameness to allow work of more than half a day. 

Admitted M[ar]ch 11, 1867 to a Pension of 4.00 per month, commencing July 14th, 1865.

[Thomas Wilson’s Civil War military records, author’s personal files, received from NARA, Oct 2011.]

Honestly, I could have lived without knowing that about my forefather’s reproductive parts, but the description certainly demonstrates the terrible wounds Civil War soldiers had to endure if they were lucky enough not to die on the battlefield. Imagine the number of soldier’s that came through hospitals with similar injuries.

Life Goes On

I ventured into the 1950 census for the first time today. I jumped around different states before I decided that the most fruitful search I could start at this early point in the process was to look at records from my hometown.

While looking for family, I found Myron Bueche, the owner of my local grocery store chain; Esther Way, the former high school music teacher whose portrait was stolen my senior year; Marion Crouse, the board of education president and person for whom an elementary school was named; Earl Partridge, the man for which the street I grew up on was named; Jennie Bump, my grandaunt and the local florist; and many familiar last names such as Scharrer, Gillam, and Breiler, whose descendants would become my neighbors, fellow class members, and friends.

I also found close family members, and learned how their lives had carried on after the last census. The first close family record I found struck me.

Accessed through Ancestry.com. Record details at the top of the photo.

In 1950, my great-grandparents Fred and Minnie Porterfield Wilson were taking care of their grandchildren, Don and Ralph Keller. I had known that their parents and sisters had been killed in a horrific car accident just three years before, but I hadn’t considered where the sons had landed after they recovered physically.

I’m not surprised that Fred and Minnie took them in, of course. But having not known them personally, this information tells me more about the kind of people they were. At retirement age, they took on the task of raising their daughter’s boys, helping them through tragedy and rehabilitation. Giving the boys hope and stability after terrible losses so early in life.

This census record is just a reminder that I come from good people. And that these words on paper cannot possibly contain the fragile emotions in that household at the time.

A Barn Burner of a Wedding

Ambrose Wilson is my second great-grandfather. Fred Wilson and Minnie Porterfield are my great-grandparents.

Staying In Touch

For the longest time, the name Ann Lemunyon was the only clue I had to find the parents of my 2nd great-grandmother, Lucy Thompson Wilson.

Ann appears as a widowed mother-in-law on the 1900 census in Lucy’s household, but no Lemunyons live near them in the 1900 or 1880 censuses.

It’s nice that their relationship was strong enough for Lucy to house her mother after her mother lost her husband, but why was she nowhere to be found on other censuses?

1900 Federal Census; Hazelton Twp, Shiawassee County, Michigan; House #304, Family 306. Sourced from Ancestry.

Lucy passed away in 1907, her husband lived alone after, and in the 1910 census there were no listings of Lemunyons in the area. So looking in records after Lucy died was no help. So I decided to review Lucy’s facts to figure out who her parents were.

It’s no surprise that Lucy lived with her husband Ambrose Wilson after her marriage in Flushing, Michigan, in 1873. In the 1870 census, I found her as a 15 year old working as a domestic servant for a wealthy family in Flint. Many other Thompsons are listed near her in the city, of course, but I had no way of telling which were Lucy’s people. All of these censuses listed New York as Lucy’s state of birth. More specifically, Lucy’s wedding record states she was born in Washington County, New York, a rural area along the Vermont border. That sent me to scour the 1860 census there for Thompsons.

I didn’t find any Lucy or Ann Thompson, unfortunately, but I did find this family halfway across the state.

1860 Federal Census; Union, Monroe County, New York; House #148, Family 145. Sourced from Ancestry.

Demmon? Lucy’s father’s name is Demon? That must be the census taker mishearing his name. At least I hope so. Still, this record was promising, and their presence near Rochester gets them closer to the Flint area where I know Lucy ended up. But know that I have an idea of Lucy’s father’s first name I could dig deeper into the Washington County records.

1855 New York State Census; Union County, New York; House #41. Sourced from Ancestry.

Dinsmore? Well, it’s better than Demon, I guess.

Okay, so the children’s names were the same as the Thompsons in Monroe County, NY. It really looked like I found Lucy’s people. But how did we get from Ann Thompson in Union, New York, to Ann Lemunyon in Flint, Michigan?

Years passed with that question unanswered. But then I found Lucy’s obituary.

Flint Journal, 14 Nov 1907, p.6, col. 1. Accessed at Flint Public Library.

Finding out that Lucy’s family lived to Decatur, Michigan, about 150 miles southwest of Flint, was the key in following Ann’s journey. In the 1880 census, she lives with James Beardsley in that county. I cannot find a marriage record for them. Then I found she married Myron Lemunyon in that county in 1892. She died just a few months after Lucy’s passing, but it seems they kept close contact despite the many miles that separated them. Here are just two of many newspaper reports.

Flint Journal, 1 Nov 1905, p4, col 7. Accessed on genealogybank.com

Flint Journal, 29 Apr 1907, p5, col3. Accessed on genealogybank.com

Gretna Green marriages

Many of my Harburn relatives got married in Angola, Indiana, in the early 1900s. As life-long residents of Flint, Michigan, I always wondered why my grandparents and their siblings drove the two hours through southern Michigan, crossed the border, and got hitched in the furthest northeastern corner of Indiana.

It was especially bewildering because my grandparents, according to all sources, were not travelers. They moved exactly twice while they were married: from a farm into town, then down the street. They liked their town, church, neighbors, and home just fine. Thank you very much.

I’m sure I’m behind the times here, but I just learned about Gretna Green marriages, also known as marriage mills. Named after a town just over the English border in Scotland, Gretna Green became a haven for young English couples who did not want to jump through the hoops the English parliament made young couples jump through, including waiting x amount of time and spending x amount of money at the church for the ceremony. Scotland, on the other hand, allowed simple ceremonies with little political bureaucracy to hinder young lovers.

After I learned the term, I looked up “Gretna Green locations in the United States” and discovered that Angola was a common marriage location for people in southern Michigan. In fact, by the 1950s, Steuben County, where Angola is located, was issuing 1,000 more marriage licenses a year than Marion County, where Indianapolis is located.

Now my grandfather was 33-years-old when he married it 1934, working in his parents’ florist shops. My grandmother was a school teacher. I don’t think they were hurting for cash so much as wanting a quiet and simple ceremony. They had a huge family. Having known them personally, I can’t imagine they’d have wanted a big fuss.

Sources:
1. HistoricUK.com. [https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/HistoryofScotland/Gretna-Green/: Accessed on 15 Jul 2020.
2. Indiana Genealogy Society, Publications. [http://www.indgensoc.org/publications/email_alerts/2018/2018_02.pdf: Accessed on 15 Jul 2020]
3. Nelson Harburn and Bernice Wilson marriage certificate. Indiana, Marriages, 1811-1959, Steuben: 1934-1934, Volume23, Image 78 of 324. Accessed on FamilySearch.org 19 Jul 2020.

The Known and the Unknown

When I started my family research in 2009, it was all lopsided. My mother’s family had annual reunions and shared churches and a huge piece of paper with all of our names on it in trim little boxes. I remember one year at the family reunion someone had tacked up the family tree on a wall of the church’s banquet room. Photos of most of the family were taped up next to their entry on the tree. I watched as my relatives would bring their son or granddaughter to the chart and show them the box in which their name was written and then trace their branch up the chart. Inevitably, they would turn to the room, and the older person would point at various people the child knew and tell them their relationship.

“That’s your great-aunt Margaret, Nicky. She’s your papa’s sister. See her over in the flowered dress talking to daddy?”

It was nice. If anyone felt insecure about their place in the family, they could look to the large tree drawn on the wall and know that they belong. It felt as if the ties between us were tangled beneath the grid of tables filling the room.

The author’s maternal grandmother (right) with her sister, 1930s

My favorite photos of them are of when they were young. Seeing my grandparents, my aunt and uncle, my parents before kids and divorces and funerals. All of the lifetimes they had before I knew them.

That was my mother’s side. The known side. My father’s side was hazier.

Dad grew up in foster care from age 8. He knew his brother, sister, half-sisters and half-brother, parents, aunts, and uncles lived in town, but he also knew he barely spoke to any of them, let alone lived with them. He knew his mother’s last name because it was written on his birth certificate. (We would later discover that last name was incorrect.) There were no photographs of these people, no stories. Occasionally Dad would mention something about his childhood—how his mom made the best blackberry cobbler or how the horses at the job he held in high school always seemed to buck when it was his turn to clean their stables, but he never lingered long in those memories.

The author’s paternal grandmother, c. 1940s

I started researching his family with very little to go on. The first names of his mother and siblings. Found out dad had close family members living all around where he grew up. Found out I had deep roots in two unfamiliar states: Iowa and Missouri. I was lucky there was a huge network of researchers on that side of my family who posted to Ancestry. It didn’t take long for me to discover photos of my grandparents.

That first glimpse was a lightning strike. There was no doubt they were family. Seeing their familiar faces was like meeting ghosts who had haunted my childhood home. I even found a photograph of my dad as a boy. In all the shuffling around of his childhood, he hadn’t held onto his keepsakes.

These are my favorite photos of my dad’s side. The unknown side. That light I’d felt when I’d seen my grandparents’ faces and recognized my dad, my brothers, myself in them is what keeps me researching my family tree.

(The featured photo of this post is my maternal grandfather (in the hat) with his younger brothers, c. 1918.)

Writing for Amy Johnson Crow’s #52Ancestors.

Henry Ford’s Brain

It seems like at the end of every episode of Finding Your Roots or Who Do You Think You Are? each guest tells the host or the person holding the camera that they have a different sense of themselves after finding out they are Arcadian or they are related to William the Conqueror. It’s my favorite part of the show because I came to those same conclusions, although there were no cameras to capture it. I felt that same inner light when I learned who my people were and how I got here. A certain kind of relief comes with the knowledge that who you are isn’t entirely your responsibility, that the chapter you are writing of your life isn’t the first in the book.

I definitely started my own research looking for my place, trying to find out where I belonged, and I quickly learned that I owe my entire existence to Henry Ford. Before the auto industry, my foreparents were scattered in Upstate New York, Ontario, the boot-heel of Missouri, and Council Bluffs, Iowa.

My New York relatives, the Wilsons, were the first to settle near Flint. They were farmers who were pushed out of the Rochester, New York, area due to a population boom and a land shortage. Thomas Wilson moved his family to New Lothrop, Michigan, using the money he received fighting and being injured in the Civil War. By 1920, all of his grandsons were employed in the factories or in auto-related businesses in Flint.

The Harburns, my Canadian family, immigrated to Flint in 1919. Having been farmers of flowers in Hensall, Ontario, they moved to Flint to become the official florists of the Ford Motor Company. It was just after Teddy Roosevelt and his conservationist movement took hold in the United States. The auto industry was getting flak from residents of the city for polluting the Flint River. Ford Motor Company hired my family to refute the conservationists’ claims. The Harburns were given a deal on a small white house just a little downriver from a car plant and grew the flowers for the company’s corporate events. The company hoped to prove the purity of the river with my family’s success. Unfortunately, it worked. Growing up, I only associate that river with stink. Swimming there was always considered a feat of daring; eating fish from there was downright nuts.

My Missouri folks, the Romines, had been struggling for decades to make a living by farming near Parma and Malden. It was the Depression when my 2nd great-grandfather moved up to Flint because of Ford’s promise of jobs. Once my 2nd great-grandfather was established, my great-grandfather followed, leaving behind his young family and marrying his second wife. Abandoned by her father, my grandmother left her own family in Missouri to find her dad. This abandonment was the end (thankfully!) of a long pattern in the Romine line.

The Jameses had been living in Council Bluffs, Iowa, since the 1870s. All but two of the eight siblings stayed there. My grandfather followed his older sister to Flint in 1941 after going through a bitter divorce and being fired from his job as county engineer in FDR’s Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC). His sister owned several bars in Flint, and he was made a bartender in one of them. That’s how he met my grandmother, who worked as a cook in a restaurant that catered mostly to factory workers.

Henry Ford. As far as I know, I have no relation to him, but he was absolutely responsible for putting my grandparents in the same place at the same time. Before learning this, I’d never thought twice about cars or the role the grubby factories we passed along the highway played in the history of my family and virtually every other family near me.

Writing this for Amy Johnson Crow’s #52Ancestors.

Photo is of my grandmother, Bernice Wilson, posing in front of the family car c. 1932.

Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose Wilson Suffer Loss By Fire

While my great-grandfather was getting married on Christmas day 1906, his father’s barn was burning to the ground.

Click here for source.