Between the Lines: Family History and Quirky Stories From Our Forgotten Past

  This is Part 2 in a series of crazes, trends, and popular expressions in our Victorian ancestors’ days. The first was “The Dolly Varden Craze.”  Shabby genteel        There was a music hall song of the 1860s that was a “top hit” in England and America.  We have heard it asserted, a dozen times o’er That a man may be happy in rags, That a prince is no more, in his carriage and four Than a pauper who tramps on the flags; As I chance to be neither, I cannot describe, How a prince or a pauper may feel, I belong to that highly respectable tribe, Which is known as the Shabby Genteel.  The chorus was the repeated in many places like a modern-day ad jingle: To proud to beg, too honest to steal, I know what it is to be wanting a meal; My tatters and rags I try to conceal, I’m one of the Shabby Genteel.  This is an old expression, predating the Victorian era and long outlasting it. But somehow if I’d encountered it before I wasn't aware. Shabby chic, yes – shabby genteel, no. Shabby chic w

  Note: This is a companion piece to “The Excursion Train,” posted in June 2024. By the time the Fort Wayne Daily News  ran this illustration in 1908, nearby lake resorts were in their last years of prominence. Once, thousands flocked to resorts less than 40 miles out of town.      In the 1800s, as the train opened possibilities to individuals and families, it opened possibilities to new communities too. If you could get people lakeside, you could build a resort. This happened in two lakeside places near Fort Wayne, Pleasant Lake and Rome City, Indiana in the 1870s.  Lakeside Resorts      Rome City was a tiny hamlet on Sylvan Lake in Noble County, a mere 36 miles from Fort Wayne but an insurmountable distance for a day trip prior to rail. It became wildly popular with Fort Wayne folks once the railroad arrived and was an hour and a half trip by rail. Surveys for the line were made in 1866. In 1875 a new, attractive depot was built.       The lake that attracted weekend visitors is 60

  The St. Louis Post-Dispatch announced the revival of the "quaint fashion" represented by a Dickens' character, Dolly Varden. When I was teenager, my family moved to Brazil for a year. It was long before the internet, cell phones and cable television. When we returned to the U.S., it was strangely disorienting, a reverse culture shock no one prepared me for. I was out of touch with pop culture. We had never seen the new TV shows, which means I hadn’t seen “Happy Days” or the Fonz. My classmates were incredulous. I had a bit of catching up to do.       Of course moving to Brazil itself often meant being the only person in the room who didn’t instantly understand something – a reference to a celebrity or a historical event, a symbol or piece of jewelry that imparted meaning to everyone else there. There was so much to learn!      I’m reminded of this frequently when reading late nineteenth century newspapers. There are references to people, events and slang that leav

  Normally, as would be expected, each article I write for my blog is a story about some aspect of family history or some quirky phenomenon or tale from the past. This is about one story I won’t be writing. It is worth telling, but someone else did it so well that I see no need to rehash their work. Following is basic information and the best, most accessible source of information about his life.  Lathrop Minor Taylor (1805-1892) - Born Clinton, New York; died in South Bend, Indiana. Lathrop was the brother of my fourth great-grandmother, Laura Taylor Suttenfield. He is the co-founder of the city of South Bend, Indiana. In the 1940s, a high school history teacher, working on advanced degrees, chose Lathrop as the subject of his thesis. Bert Anson later became a professor of history and expert on the Miami Indians. He published three articles in Indiana History Magazine on Lathrop. They are very readable and can easily be found online: Anson, Bert. “The Early Years of Lathrop M. Taylor,

    The “great unwashed” were not so from choice.                                                                                       -– Jacob A. Riis Bathing a baby was easy, but many Americans lacked access to a bathtub until relatively recently.       F rancie and Neeley Nolan were about to start school in Brooklyn in 1907. As such, they were scheduled for mandatory vaccinations. On a warm August day, just before leaving for work, their mother Katie told her six-and seven-year olds to go to the public health clinic around the corner at 11:00 for their shots. Francie tried to distract her terrified little brother by taking him outside of their tenement apartment where they made mud pies. Soon, they forgot about the time. A neighbor called down to remind them just before their appointment. Although they wiped off the mud, they also forgot to wash up properly as Mama had told them to.       In the next scene in Betty Smith’s autobiographical novel, A Tree Grows In Brooklyn , an insen