I research through so much genealogical material, and all can seem so fruitless and time consuming, finding nothing of value. And then comes a breakthrough, in this instance concerning what had become of Sarah Green of Lambeth's mother Elizabeth after that first 1841 census showing her to be a widow. And I crack it. She had become wife to John May, a Lambeth labourer, a younger man. They they are in the census's, her Green children giving the clue, John and Charlotte Green being with these May's in the 1851 Census. And was Elizabeth even married to John May, as I find no marriage between them, and still no death for her first husband, Henry Green the tailor. And London abounds with Henry Greens. One, who was indeed a tailor, was caught making some indecency in a pub with a soldier. Interesting. AuthorSusie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees.
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I stick to the work of researching newspaper records of my family and have found a couple of interesting ones. One was for my ancestor George Harrison, the original, fined for indecent exposure on the streets of Abergavenny, whoops, and another was about George's oldest son, Lewis, being reluctantly pushed to support him in his older years. When I look at the Welsh borderland region, where they lived, I became nostalgic for this land and know I want to be there again, that a part of my soul is always there, there between Crickhowell to Llanbedr, by Patrishow, to Llanthony and Cwmyoy, the Sugarloaf mountain, the abandoned slag heaps, the Dan-yr-ogof caves, Hay bluff, and that taste once more of the lavabread of the Abregavenny deli. if I had to return to Britian eventually, then why not there. From Govilon up to the ghost village of Pwlldu. The land of my fathers, all this is. I never made it up to Shetland, another ancestral place, and more recently, I learn, so is County Kerry in Ireland. An epic journey may be in order one day to explore all this. The Bog of Allen in central Ireland. The Forest of Dean. Greenwich, in the south of London. Vast homelands. AuthorSusie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees. ![]() I met up with Martin Lowe, who like me was interested in the story of humans, their DNA and explorations out of Africa. A brother enthusiastically unravels his own family history, his father being from Berlin, and his mother from what was once the Czech republic. I straight away guessed they were Jewish and he confirmed this, and he did have that Eastern European Jewish kind of physiology, shared by the Lincoln-Soskin's. Just as I have been reflecting on alternatives for the old theory that our ancestors evolved as carnivores chasing after red-meated fauna on the Savannah's, so had he. As I said to him, if meat is still carcinogenic to us it shows we never did have as much exposure to it as presumed, otherwise after some thousands of years we'd have more efficiently adapted to it. No doubt men have hunted, but possibly for sacrifices to their bloodthirsty gods and for initiation rituals, making passage from boyhood to manhood. This is one angle I have. It can be seen in travels out of Africa and the progress of our DNA that humankind always followed rivers and seashores. This supports more a pescaterian diet, fish, seaweeds, shellfish and riverside plants and fruits. I have always felt an indefinable difference between the eating of meat and fish, though I eat neither. Fish consumption does not horrify me as much as does meat eating, maybe because I had plenty of fishing ancestors in Shetland, Greenwich and on the Essex coast, but I still would not be able to bash a fish to death in order to eat it. It was so good discussing this subject with Martin. He totally believes the waterside non-meat eating ancient story of mankind. Our absence of fur is due to our time spent in water, he says, like with the seals. It was the seas and rivers that supported us for tens of thousands of years. I recall that wonderful lavabread, still eaten around Wales, a remnant of ancient times. AuthorSusie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees. ![]() I have been looking up more interesting newspaper articles, this time for my older children's paternal half of their family, and I have found, as on my own side, another trial for manslaughter of a child. How curious that both their father and I should have this. I did recall his family having once mentioned this story to me, that my ex's father John's family were part of a cult called the Peculiar People and one ancestor had been imprisoned in following one of the tenets not to give medical aid to the children, but to trust in God only in such matters. One daughter of the family, having already just died from diphtheria, so then did a young son. All medical advice and concern regarding the boy had been ignored, for which a small prison sentence was in order. And again this was, like my own families situation, a case which interested the whole of Britain, different circumstances, but a similar story all the same. The imprisoned father of these perished children was called Thomas John Whale, a grandfather to my ex's paternal grandmother. I looked more into my ex's ancestral manslaughter charge, laptop before me. I could even see something of my ex in this man, a family trait. Contradictions, the denials of something formerly said, one moment pursuing strategy, another time self sabotaging. Mr Whale presented to the judge that he had flexibility, adapting his beliefs for better effect, but then on being pressed stubbornly contradicted all that, upholding his conscience, or as the judge called it, his 'superstitions'. For his faith in God, even though his children died, nothing would change his conviction or determination. He put out certain tactics to confuse, even calling for medical help, though ignoring it when it came, as it was mere strategy. Thomas Whale was a staunch cultist, an extremist. This is a most fascinating bit of genealogical history. I studied more of my children's paternal genealogy, finding more relevant newspaper articles, one being of Thomas John Whale giving an interview about his intense religious faith, with his wife saying a little too. Thomas's wifes father, William Benton, had a rebellious youth, setting a haystack on fire after his employer sacked him. Though only 12 years of age, he got one month in prison and a whipping. Later, he was involved in an attempted highway robbery, during which the victim managed to stab him in both chest and neck. AuthorSusie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees. So I have ancestral places to visit, Greenwich in London, as well as County Kerry in Ireland. It was the infamous potato famine which drove my Irish ancestors, Bartholomew and Catherine Sugrue, away from their homeland, there where the poor people were starving, diseased, thrown out of their tenancies, for which they'd paid far too much rent anyway to their blood sucking Anglo Irish landlords. The Irish lived in hovels, with no beds, no blankets, and only potatoes to eat. Of course we do love potatoes, but the blight came from America and the potato crops were ruined. The older people stuck it out through such famines, whereas younger family members fled. These masses of famine fleeing Roman Catholic Irish, arriving in England, had never a birth registration system, and were illiterate and so poor, and even in England they didn't get their children's births registered, although they would have been baptised into their own faith, hence why there are no birth records for any of Bartholomew's children, including for my Thomas, which explains the never ever findable birth certificate. Learning of the Sugrue's permits me to aknowledge more, and accept, a greater part of myself. I feel it, understand, how in my own life I have made friends with 'lost souls', have accepted handouts, and been so 'laid back' and undisciplined. The living conditions of my ancestor Bartholomew Sugrue did shock, but what of mine? I am the eternal student, unconcerned with societies normal neurotic rules, natural I would say. And sleeping on a floor with a cover, what's really so wrong with that. Illnesses come, fevers, and one trusts the body to get through it. I feel Bartholomew was harshly judged by busy-bodies. Yes, he drank alcohol, and so does most of my village. His wife had been dragged off to prison for something her daughter had done, and anyway children do go through phases of stealing, some of them. I did. She likely did not know the purse was stolen till Hannah handed it to her, then just had to try and protect her child from the consequences. Another daughter, young Catherine, she saw coal and took it for the cold. Young James mucked about with some rope another boy had lifted. The Irish way was far more natural and earthy and unfussy. In England life was different. I shall make excuses for my ancestors. I know well how hurtful it is to be judged and condemned, like them. In taking a mother away from her children the powers that be also created this tragedy of Edmund's loss of life. And this at a time when disease was more rife and children died so much more easily. So though I have found shocking write-ups in the papers I shall not look on it with the same eyes, I shall be more understanding. These people had already been through so much, with their extreme poverty and famine in Ireland. AuthorSusie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees. I began transferring my family tree to my new yellow laptop and wrote up the various details I had so far concerning my ancestor Bartholomew Sugrue. I am fascinated overall by the Greenwich side of my family, despite their rough and ready ways. Long ago, when I was a student in London I would visit the Greenwich Park and I recall feeling something there, something otherworldly, maybe my ancestral spirits happy to see me, welcoming me (and I'd never known back then that I even had roots in that place). I found another newspaper article for my Greenwich ancestors, this time for John William Harrison, prior to his marriage to my ancestress Eleanor Caroline. He was at that time aged 21, working for a fishmonger at the Greenwich market, when he got into trouble for roughing up a policeman on Roan Street. He and his friend, a fellow fishmonger, attacked the police fellow, for whatever reason, this being unmentioned, and ripped his coat, for which they both got fines. John lived on Roan Street. These were rough parts of Greenwich, there where some of my ancestors lived out their lives. AuthorSusie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees. The British newspaper archives have opened up a whole new world. I keep on seeking articles relating to any of my family, and its not so easy, but I did find a story, this time on my Maxted line. It regarded the death of my ancestor George Maxted of Kent, whose native villages of Pluckley and Hothfield I have been to see (I have to see Westwell too). It was in Hothfield that George died, apparently falling from a haystack, which he was thatching, landing onto a big stick which pierced through his leg and into his bowels. I kept on looking through newspaper articles. Both my Irish Bartholomew Sugrue and his wife Catherine were partial to the bottle, I now read. Oh dear, this gets worse. I mean, here I am seeing drunkard Irish expats in my village, mirroring my own ancestors. It's a shock indeed. And yet another of their children had been caught stealing, James Sugrue, during the case of which it was mentioned that another of his brothers was already in prison. It's impossible to gloss any of this over, I have very dysfunctional family roots, part of a vast melange, from royal privilege to utter desolation. I had a browse for my friends genealogies too. For Akila I found family divorces, for Trebha, his grandfather being caught with stolen fish, Jeremy's drunkards, and Liz's posh side. To find all was so compelling. This is time consuming too, as genealogy is anyway. I sought more old family newspaper articles. So long one looks, coming up with nothing, and then a gem flashes up. I found the death inquest for one of my ancestresses, Maria Ann Harrison of Greenwich, already a widow, who had dropped dead after complaining of a bilious attack. Every organ in her body was said to be diseased. This, it was claimed, was in consequence of her intemperance. Oh dear, another one. A heart attack caused her death, such was the verdict. AuthorSusie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees. Chasing up more information on my ancestress Catherine Sugrue's arrest, I realised I could only uncover the real story by paying to view a site of old British newspapers. I joined for a month, thus getting more insight into my Sugrue ancestry. The more I saw the more shocked I was. While Catherine was a year in prison, where she was subjected to hard labour, her husband Bartholomew was making a huge mess of things with the children. He took to drink and was out boozing on the streets, when a relieving officer called on the house, there having been a report that the children were in a bad way. The officer found the children to be sickly, nearly naked, infested with parasites, starving, and lying on a bare floor covered only by a rag. One of the boys, Edmund, was almost dead from pneumonia, weak and emaciated. Edmund was taken off to the workhouse and effort was made to revive him there, but he died, after which Bartholomew was charged with manslaughter. 1866 that was, the worst year for my Sugrue's. And when Catherine was freed from prison, yet another daughter was caught stealing, taking coal from the riverside, being in a desolate state. Though Catherine pleaded that her last remaining daughter, Catherine junior, not be sent away, as had Hannah, she was sentenced to be taken off to an industrial school. These newspaper articles have opened up for me the real life experiences of the ancestors. It's not so easy to be faced with their tragedies, though such articles may, I have to consider, be all the more sensationalised to appeal to a reading public. It is quite fascinating to see these figures come to life. No matter what befell them, they are still my people. And they have played their part in contributing to the complex person I myself am, with my own lack, my emotions and my sensitivities. AuthorSusie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees. I buried myself into some genealogy, my quest being to try and find out at last what are the origins of my Greenwich waterman great great grandfather Thomas Seagrove. And although I have many times looked into this to no avail, this time I made the breakthrough, which was really quite amazing. My granny Isabelle did once tell me that the Seagrove surname may have been changed from something sounding like Shugrue. Previously I had looked at one character of the right time, name and place, Bartholomew Sugrue, who did indeed have a son called Thomas. But, on Thomas's marriage certificate he had written his fathers name was James Seagrove and that he was a fisherman, not a match then for this Bartholomew who was a labourer. I decided now, regardless of the contrary detail, to look again at this figure, Bartholomew Sugrue. He was an Irish immigrant from County Kerry, who had married another Irish immigrant, Catherine Sheehan. In later years he was in and out of the workhouse, every time being transferred from Greenwich to Poplar to do hard labour, a frequent way to get a small financial means to then send to his family. It was in looking up his workhouse admissions that I then saw it, the defining proof, the missing link. There it was, written on record that his next of kin was a son who lived at 9 Kitsons Terrace, exactly the time that I knew my ancestor Thomas Seagrove had been living there. In another workhouse entry I then saw the sons actual first name recorded, not with a surname: Thomas. So it is that I now know I have Irish ancestry, not only of Westmeath, but of County Kerry too, that part of the country famed for its friendly dolphin at Dingle. This was most exciting and I spent much of the rest of the day researching Bartholomew Sugrue. He lived on the marshy peninsula where now sits the Millenium Dome. It was his son then, Thomas, who married Maria Harrison, and their daughter Mary Ann who married D'Auvergne Bane, who had granny Isabelle, who had my mother, who had me. Returning to look at my newfound Irish Sugrue family, I discovered that not only was Bartholomew continually in and out of the workhouse, but that at one time his children were too, including his son Thomas, my great great grandfather, who at that time was 11 years old and still a Sugrue. And I discover why. At that time their mother, my very ancestress Catherine (neé Sheehan) had been put in prison for a year for stealing from someone. Her daughter Ann had helped her in this theft and had also been found guilty, punished with 14 days of prison followed by four years in a reformatory school. This was interesting to discover as I myself went through a phase of stealing as a child, and there it is in our family history. They lived in such desperate times, in which Bartholomew frequently subjected himself to stints of hard labour away from his family, to enable their survival. I do feel upset for these sentences imposed on Catherine and her daughter, who simply needed to survive and feed a whole brood of children, to keep all alive and healthy, in times of no modern social support system. Bartholomew died in the Greenwich workhouse. It was as much a home to him as anywhere else. He had been married to someone before Catherine, another Irish girl, Ellen Sullivan, but within three years of being together she had died. Maybe Thomas took the name Seagrove to distance himself from the sorry degradation of his Irish immigrant status; maybe Maria his wife had wished that. AuthorSusie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees. My Familytree matriarchal DNA analysis arrived, naturally linking me to my son George. It's still rare as can be, there having been no new matches for our DNA for many years now. I saw that the old classification system of that 176G had been replaced by a new one. Wow. Ah, that's why there have been all different numbers, so many of them, which I can little understand. Being of old N stock it is quite recognised that newcomers since such old times have overwhelmed us and one day will totally replace us. Oh dear, really? But, this is just the way things happen. As it is stated in the Haplogroup N mtDNA group 'The branches of N are some of those that sprang from the earliest routes, closer to the time of exodus from Africa than the later haplogroups which have become the majority. Over millenia many human lineages always die out, so that there are fewer and fewer of the oldest lines that survive. That is the reason why there are so few members of these N clades still found today, due to their great age'. AuthorSusie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees. |
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