Wrigley Field, a Distant Connection

Buna in her pink Cubs cap at the age of 102

I’m a life-long Cubs fan.  So was my maternal grandmother, Buna.  She and my grandfather lived on Mildred Street not far from Wrigley Field.  As a child in the 1950s, I went to Ladies’ Day at Wrigley Field so my connection to the ball park goes back decades.  However, I recently learned that I have an even older connection to Wrigley Field.

 
Last year I received copies of letters my paternal grandfather, Howard A. Olson, had exchanged with a friend over a 40 year period.  Among the 200 or more copies of letters was a copy of an article from an April 6, 1957 Roto Magazine from the Chicago Daily News.  The article is dominated by a photograph of a wooden bell tower with my grandfather and his uncle at its base.

 The article tells how the “bell was used to call worshippers to St. Mark’s Lutheran Church” which once stood on the property that is now Wrigley Field.  I had filed the article away and didn’t think of it again until I was in Chicago last week.

I went to the Chicago History Museum during my trip to Chicago last week, and looked up some family events.  I remembered the bell on the property that is now Wrigley Field.  With the help of staff, I found a Sanborn Map from 1894.  I also did some Internet searches and found out that St. Mark’s Lutheran Church was built about 1874.  It was the birthplace of the seminary that grew over time.  However, the neighborhood continued to grow too, and the seminary eventually vacated the property in 1910.  It became a ball park after that.

Sanborn Map, Volume 9 1954, Sheet 116 (a portion)

My grandfather is 9 years old in the photograph.  Since he was born In June 1882, the photo was taken about 1891.  One article I came across says that the Seminary officially opened on October 1, 1891.  I wonder if the photo was, in part, to commemorate the opening of the seminary.  I guess I’ll never know.  I haven’t been able to find any other information about the “bell on the ball field.”

I spent some time in Wrigleyville last week.  I just had to buy some CUBS garb while I was there.  So much of the old neighborhood has the same feel that it did when I was a child.  I felt that I had traveled back in time to my childhood.  Now I have a photograph that takes me back to my grandfather’s childhood 125 years ago.  Wow.  I’m overwhelmed.  Some people say there is no such thing as time travel.  I beg to differ.  The research I do into my family tree is a fascinating journey through time.

In Search of My Dad

Hard to believe it's been about 2 months since I last wrote.  I've been busy.  Tomorrow I leave for Chicago to take a major step in finding my Dad.  Not just paperwork associated with my Dad.  I'm talking about looking for my Dad, the Man.  

Robert Harold Olson

My Dad was a World War II veteran.  He was on Iwo Jima as far as I can tell. (I have found evidence that his unit was there but I don't have confirmation that he was there.  I’m still working on it.)   No doubt he had PTSD.  However, back then it was diagnosed as a nervous breakdown, and he had shock treatments at the Pinel (sp?) Sanitarium in Chicago.  That was about 1956.  I can remember my mother sneaking me into an area of the hospital where I should not have been.  I also remember sitting in an office with my grandfather and my mother.  I heard discussions about the shock treatment.

Dad came home after his stay in the "hospital" and was never the same after that.  He lost his job working for the Chicago & Northwestern Railway.  I think he only worked one winter season at the post office since then.

My mom and dad had lived with my grandfather & grandmother since before I was born.  My grandmother passed away a few months before my birth.  My alcoholic mother deserted the family in 1957, and I was raised by my grandfather.  My dad was there too, but he wasn't capable of contributing much to my care.

Fast forward.  I moved out when I was 19 years old.  I had my daughter in 1968. I kept in touch with Gramps and Dad.   In 1975 I moved to California. 

The reason for my move to CA  was twofold.  My daughter's father had her in California for a visit (to which I agreed) after our split, but when it came time for her return, he said I couldn't get her.  He had a court order.  (I think he was bluffing, but I didn't know any better at the time. My daughter was 3-1/2 when she first left for CA with her father.)  So, I had to go to court in Illinois to get a divorce and child custody.  However, they didn’t enforce it out of state so I eventually had to go to California to try to get child custody.  Things would have been less complicated had I not married her father.  He talked me into it while we were in Chicago – in case something happened to me.  He’d also been picked up by the FBI for draft evasion.  I’m sure having legal custody of our daughter didn’t hurt his case any.  Anyway, since we were married, he was just as much our daughter’s legal guardian as I was.

When I showed up in Sacramento CA for court in April 1973, my daughter’s father knew I was in town.  I was approached by his girlfriend and she asked if I was Karin. If I remember right, she also said, "You don't look anything like I expected."  (Odd.  I'd heard that from another of his girlfriends while we were still together in Chicago.  He described me differently than the person I really was.)   I guess my husband saw me in town.  He didn’t show up for court the following Monday morning, afternoon and then that Wednesday.  The court issued a bench warrant for him, but no decision was made as to custody so I didn’t have any recourse.  I was devastated.  While in California for court, I met someone.  In 1975 I moved to CA to be with him and to be closer to where I thought my daughter was.  I thought that was my best chance of finding her since her father ran away with her.  (I don't know what ever came of the FBI case or the bench warrant.) 

I mention all this because this is how I ended up in CA, why I stayed there, and how I eventually lost track of my father.  My Dad was with Gramps until he passed away in 1977.  Then Dad stayed in the old family house with his uncle until he passed away in 1984.  I believe Dad stayed on at the house until it was sold in 1994 or 1995.  After that the family lost track of him.  I’ve been in touch with cousins and no one seems to have seen my Dad after 1994.

I’ve been searching online for Dad for years.  I’ve looked at unclaimed bodies and unidentified bodies online.  (He would have turned 100 years old last month.  I doubt that he’s still alive.)  I’ve submitted info to missing person websites.  The most recent site requires a formal police report.  So, that’s what I’m getting ready to do.  I fly to Chicago tomorrow, and I’ll stay 4 nights to be sure I can get everything done.  If I get done early, I can do some family tree research.  I get very emotional just writing about this.  I’m not bothering to edit this blog.  I just need to get my thoughts out. 

After I file a formal police report, NamUs will “publish” my missing person report online, and they will get my DNA for CODIS.  Hopefully that will help to find or identify my father’s remains and bring him home.  (This is where I get very emotional.  I know I’ll break down and cry when I have to talk to someone about it face to face.  Writing about it is relatively easy.)  I need LOTS of positive thoughts.  I’m hoping for a positive outcome, eventually. There are times it is difficult to know what to do.  I learn a lot from the experiences of others.  I hope someone can learn from mine.

Happy ending – in part.  I did eventually get together with my daughter, and we have a great relationship.  I first met her again when she was about 10 years old.  (A deeper relationship took another decade or two.)  Could I have done something to regain custody of her then?  Sure.  Probably.  However, I chose NOT to do to her father what he did to me.  Perhaps it was a mistake, but I didn’t think I could tear her away from what she knew more than half of her life.  I tried to stick to the moral high road throughout the years.  I chose not to hate for fear that it would color me ugly.  However, there are times I would love to tell him off.  Especially when I hear that he is still telling untruths about me and our situation.  Yeah, I may still tell him off some day. 

Taking Down More Brick Walls, Part 2

Eureka!  I found another reference to the address on Harold Olson's birth certificate, and the rest of the wall came tumbling down.

After the post of Part 1, I went online and made a comment on Ancestry about the wrong address for the 1910 census related to my family member. I hope that will help others.  I felt good after my bit of detective work to determine that 6000 Hachmuch should be 6050 N Hermitage.  Yesss!

I went back to looking for the address on Harold's birth certificate.  I couldn't seem to go any further.  I looked at the 1920 census for Howard and Gertrude, the parents of Harold.  They had moved between 1916 and 1920.  I thought I had reached a dead end that lead to that small pile of bricks and mortar around my dad's birth certificate.  I was so close.

One last try at something.  I got out my green "Vitals" binder.  That's where I keep an extra copy of  important documents such as birth certificates.  They are sorted alphabetically by last name then first.  It's easier to look through that one binder than a dozen or so binders for various individual family members.

I went to the 'Os" for Olson.  Right off the bat I found a death certificate for Irving Olson, my dad's brother.  He was born in 1914 and he died in 1916, just a few months after my father was born. The address given on his death certificate was the same as the address given on Harold's birth certificate.  Finally!  I was 100% sure that Harold Olson and my dad were the same person.

One problem solved.  One wall entirely knocked down.  Now, however, I'm left wondering why my father's name changed and when it changed.  I may never know.  I think anyone who may have known is gone.  I have a theory.  My grandfather's uncle was Harry Gerold Jensen.  The first 3 letters of Harry and the last 3 letters of Gerold = Harold.  Coincidence?  Maybe.  I doubt that I'll ever find out for sure.

I'm not too concerned though.  I can comfortably move on to another brick wall.  I can't get beyond my dad's maternal grandfather. Who were his parents? That will be the next wall I tackle.

Taking Down More Brick Walls, Part 1

Woody, 11 June 2001 to  10 August 2016

We just put our Border Collie to sleep this morning so I needed something to occupy my mind.  I decided to work on my family tree.  I have some partial brick walls impeding my progress.  I need to clean up some bricks and mortar so that I can break through to the other side.  I thought I might be able to finish that cleanup now that I have the right tools and better skills than when I started this journey down the Olson Family Lane.

I have a partial brick wall surrounding my father's birth certificate.  There was a time I couldn’t find the birth certificate for my father, Robert Harold Olson born 13 September 1916.  Then, as luck would have it, I came across a Harold Olson born 12 September 1916.  I decided to take a chance and order the document for immediate download from Cook County Illinois.

I ordered and paid for the document, and I downloaded it to my computer’s hard drive.  I looked at all of the information on the certificate.  Here’s what I was able to determine: 

• The handwritten birth date of 12 September 1916 looked as if it was really 13 September 1916.  I compared the writing of the numbers to others in the document and the 2 appeared to be a 3.  Not enough, however, to verify that it was in fact my father.

• The father’s name was Howard A Olson.  That’s the name of my paternal grandfather.

• The father’s age at the time of the birth was 34.  That corresponds with the age of my grandfather based on his birth year.

• The mother’s name was Gertrude H Minor.  That’s the name of my paternal grandmother – except for the middle initial.

• The mother’s age at the time of the birth was 28.  That corresponds with the age of my grandmother based on her birth year.

• There is a reference to the number of children – the answer is four.  My dad was the fourth child born to Howard and Gertrude.

Even with all this information I wasn’t 100% sure it was my father.  Was it possible there was another set of parents of the same names and ages?  I thought it was a remote possibility so I was only 99.7% sure that Harold was my dad.  I’d never heard of his name being any different from how I knew him, but it was certainly possible.

Just this morning I decided to do more research.  I wanted to see if the addresses on the census reports agreed with the address on the birth certificate.  If not, was the address on the birth certificate in the same neighborhood?  My paternal ancestors were from Norway and Sweden so most, if not all, lived in the area of Andersonville on the north side of Chicago.  I may have researched the addresses years ago but I don’t remember.  My investigative skills have improved over the years so I thought it was worth another try.

I started with the 1900 census even though it was 16 years before the birth of my father.  My grandfather Howard was still at “home” with his mother Josephine and his siblings.  The address was on North Clark St.  I went on to the next census.

I pulled up the page for the 1910 census.  Howard was still at home with his mother and his siblings.  The address shown was now 6000 Hachmuch.  I’d never come across that street name for anyone in my family.  I decided to take a closer look at the document.  However, the details got a little fuzzy as I enlarged the image.  The street number of 6000 looked as if it could be 6050.  Since the family had a home at 6050 North Hermitage in the early 1900s, I thought that the street name as shown on Ancestry could be wrong. What?!?  Yes, it happens.  That's why it's important to question and check information.

I went to the information at the top of the census report.  The ward was #26, and the Enumeration District was 1108.  I did a search online for wards in Chicago, Cook County, Illinois during the 1910 census.  Bingo!  I found a site with maps of the wards for various census years.  The Ward & Enumeration District seemed to be within the neighborhood of the old family home on Hermitage.See the link below.  Just change the year in the url to see other sets of maps.  It's a great source of information for those of us from Chicago.

http://www.alookatcook.com/1910/

I did an online search for the address of the family home.  Bingo again!  The home was within the Enumeration District of the 1910 census.  One piece of information found.  I’ll report the issue to Ancestry or leave a comment so others know of the transcription error.  However, I’m still looking for more addresses to see if I can further verify my father’s birth certificate.  That will be Part 2 of this post.