Saturday, November 12, 2022

We remember

Continuing the I Lamont family history series, this time prompted by Veteran's Day. More than a century ago, my great uncle Adrian stepped off a troop transport in France and into the maw of the greatest war Europe had ever experienced. 

It would in fact be known as the "Great War" for several decades, but we now call it World War I. By April 1917, the European powers had been pounding away at each other for 3 years. Millions had died. The fields of northern France and Belgium were pockmarked by craters and crossed by trenches and fortifications. It was a stalemate.

The American "doughboys" were there to break it. My great uncle, along with most of his all-male college classmates, enlisted as soon as exams were over in the spring of 1917.

He was sent to officer’s training camp in Plattsburgh, New York, and by the end of the summer was commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant in the field artillery, assigned to the 18th Calvary. He was commissioned 1st Lieutenant that fall, and sent to San Antonio that winter. The photo below is from the training period. He's on the right:

 

American doughboys WW1 photo 1917
The following May, in the spring of 1918, they were thrown into the war. I can only imagine the feeling of foreboding as his unit traveled inland to eastern France, passing blown-out buildings, blasted trees, military camps, and wounded and dead being brought back from the front. There would be the sounds of conflict. Artillery. Machine guns. Gas sirens. Airplanes.

This was different than their training experience back in the U.S. Now it was for real. A few miles away, German forces were firing guns and dropping bombs, in an effort to maim or kill them and stop the reinvigorated Allied forces from advancing. And the doughboys were trying to do the same with their weapons. This map shows the approximate location of the front from 1916 to 1918:

WW1 western front map U.S. Army
Much later, his sister penned a family history. She said he participated in the Battle of St. Mihiel and the Meuse-Argonne offensive that ended the war. Another source, a 1922 reunion note for his college class, described a recognition he received:
“For distinguished conduct in action, for exceptional devotion to duty, energy and courage. On the day of November 7, 1918, while at a forward observation post adjusting fire in preparation for firing accurate barrages, was subjected to heavy enemy shell fire but displayed great courage by remaining at his post until the work had been accomplished. This is in the vicinity of Jaulny, France."

November 7, 1918, was the 6th week of the Meuse-Argonne offensive and a mere four days before the Armistice. He almost didn't make it. We still have one of his medals, from the earlier battle at the St. Mihiel salient:

St Mihiel salient medal WW1
But we have an even more important reminder of the bravery of this young man more than 100 years ago. We named our son after him.

Tuesday, November 08, 2022

Influences: Punk rock

There's a video doing the rounds titled "how to write a hardcore punk riff" (see below). I never learned much music theory, other than what my high school bass teacher imparted to me regarding basic major and minor scales and the structure of blues-rock. So the video was interesting, as 12tone breaks down some of the patterns behind hardcore punk-rock. 

But I think he missed a few things, too. I say this as someone who used to write this type of music in the 80s and 90s in bands like Mr. O, Uckfay, and Feiwu

feiwu taiwan punk rock

Let's start with something 12tone nailed: "It's really easy to make boring punk music." So true! It was easy to identify the greats back in the 1980s, some of whom the narrator cites - Bad Brains, Minor Threat, and the Dead Kennedys. We found out about these bands through word of mouth, live shows, fanzines, listening to records at friends' places, or college radio. 

But boy, was it hard to write songs as good as them. I realize why. It's not just a question of getting the theory wrong. In our zeal to reject everything about "classic rock," and the 80s electronic influences that were taking over the pop charts, we were listening to too much punk and hardcore. It wasn't until Feiwu (1997-1999) that I really began to consider other influences, including Taiwanese nakashi music.

It's very clear that the most creative and impactful musicians and artists are usually the ones who are doing things differently, not blindly adhering to the "rules" for whatever came before.

All of those seminal hardcore bands not only had fantastically skilled musicians (including vocals), but also they were coming from a much different place than we assumed, something I didn't find out until later. It's a mistake to think of them as amateurs who only knew the Sex Pistols and Ramones before they picked up their instruments. 

Bad Brains started out as a jazz/pop band. Greg Ginn of Black Flag also had a jazz backgroud. I read somewhere that one of Black Flag's favorite albums in the tour van in the early 80s was ZZ Top's Eliminator - Texas blues rock meets synth drums. 

Flea, who played bass in Fear before cofounding RHCP, was a high-level trumpet and French Horn player in high school, and grew up listening to his stepfather's jazz influences. East Bay Ray of the DKs - surf and jazz. D Boon of the Minutemen studied flamenco guitar at one point, which you can hear on Double Nickels on the Dime.

There's a great book by Michael Azzerad (Our Band Could Be Your Life) which gets into the influences of many 80s/early 90s bands including Minor Threat, who late in their existence were veering off into U2 influenced rock.



Wednesday, October 12, 2022

How I became a family historian

Someone recently asked how I became a family historian.

Some of you will know the answer, if you take on this role for your own families. For most of us, it starts when we are young.

At an early age, I showed interest in family history. Where did we come from? What did Great Uncle Anthony do for work? Why do most of our cousins live in a certain part of northern New York?

A few relatives had lived through world history, which was fascinating. People remembered when the first man landed on the moon, or the Great Depression, or seeing a famous athlete or musician.

family historian lunar landing

I remember asking my grandfather about his time in the U.S. Navy in World War II. More recently, I have asked details about my father's service during the Cold War.

Oftentimes it's the anecdotes that stick in your mind, and in the minds of the people you share them with. I remember my grandfather telling me about his own grandfather, who arrived in the United States in the 1830s as a young child with his destitute migrant family. All they had were the clothes on their backs, and agricultural and masonry skills that would prove useful after they settled in a wilderness tract on the New York/Canadian border.

Despite the hardships of the journey, my great-great-grandfather remembered the crew squirting him with a hose on the ship while crossing the Atlantic. He told this story to my grandfather in the early 1900s, and my grandfather shared it with me one spring in the late 1980s, when I was driving him on I-95 up from Florida on the "Snowbird" route. I still remember it today.

In my late 20s, I started doing serious genealogy research. I also started sharing findings with relatives, or looking at old photos or headstones with them. If the older generation sees the interest is sincere, and you seem trustworthy, you may become the designated family historian, whether you want that responsibility or not! I did, fortunately.

old photo album family history

Photos, documents, and other relics started coming my way. And they keep coming! The photo above shows a photo album from Ian's great-uncle, our son's namesake.

But it's not just the things, it's the discussions. I am constantly interviewing older relatives, and if they give permission, recording the interviews on audio or video. Those recordings are so important ... particularly the stories and the "why" explanations - why someone moved to a different state, why she studied a certain subject in school, why they never had children.

Friday, August 12, 2022

Irish clues at a cemetery in northern New York

I am in northern New York this week. I took the scenic route through Vermont, because I wanted to stop at an ancestral graveyard on the far side of Lake Champlain to pay my respects ... and see if there are any other details I may have missed since my last visit 15 years ago.

The graveyard, located on Irish Settlement Road near the intersection with Military Turnpike (which has an interesting history) is small, but well kept. It contains mostly 19th-century graves of Irish settlers who came this area starting in the 1820s after an economic crisis struck the local weaving industry in County Meath, Ireland.

A 4x great grandfather is buried here, along with two of his sons, daughters-in-law, and many descendants. He died in 1837. The gravestone gives his place of origin - "A native of Philpotstown, Meath." In the past I have looked up this townland, and found two possibilities:

  1. Rataine Civil Parish, Barony of Lower Navan, Co. Meath. South of Navan, containing part of the town of Dunderry. It is small and has a small population (blue arrow on the map below).
  2. Ardsallagh Civil Parish, Barony of Lower Navan, Co. Meath. Larger area and population to the southeast of Navan, and very close to Hill of Tara, which is located a mile or two to the east (red arrow).

On this visit, I did a walk around the entire graveyard and noticed a stone belonging to another family which lists another nearby placename: Athboy. See it on the map below? It's on the left side, maybe 10 miles from the red arrow. 

This piece of information verifies that immigrants buried in the Irish Settlement graveyard hailed from the same area. Does it mean that the Philpotstown marked by the red arrow is the correct place of origin, because it's closer to Athboy? Maybe. 

Or maybe not. The economic crisis affected an entire region, so even though people settled in the same area in New York, it doesn't mean they were next-door neighbors back in Ireland. More research is needed. I hope to visit Ireland some day to do it in person, on the ground, seeing all of these places with my own two eyes. 

There was another piece of information on my ancestor's gravestone, at the very bottom, right above the dirt:

"Also, Barnard his son died Feb"

So the son died a few months before the father. It makes you wonder if the two deaths were connected in some way. The stones do not say.

I paid my respects to my 4x Great Grandfather, touched the stones of other ancestors and relatives, and continued on my journey. 

Sunday, June 19, 2022

Father's Day memories: How farmers made Apple Jack

 

Thought I would share this story in honor of Father's Day. Last year, we had an outdoor brunch with my dad, who shared an interesting story about his own father, my grandfather. 

My grandfather came of age during Prohibition in farming country in western New York. The people there were not only skilled at procuring alcohol from north of the border in nearby Canada, they were also skilled at making it. Lots of people brewed beer or cider for underground sale or home consumption ... and sometimes made harder stuff, too. 

Apple Jack memories
"Apple Jack" was one type of home brew popular among the Irish and Scots immigrants and their descendants living in the area. My grandfather's method, according to my father, involved taking a casket of hard cider, and putting it out in the barn on a really cold night. The water would freeze around the outer edge of the casket, but the liquid in the center - concentrated cider with a much higher alcohol content - could be tapped and extracted. This was how Apple Jack was made in those parts, and in other parts of the northeast during colonial times.

My father also remembered going fishing with his dad in the 1950s, and stopping to buy worms from local apple farmers. It turns out that a certain type of worm used to thrive in the discarded mash from the cider presses. Fish apparently loved them, so farmers would sell them as bait. Part of the ritual when buying worms, my dad recalled, involved the farmer offering some sweet cider to the kids, and a glass of hard cider to the adults, if they were so inclined. On a hot summer's day, that must have been refreshing.  

The tradition of home-brewed alcohol still lives on. We used to live next to an Italian immigrant from Naples who brewed his own wine in the cellar and generously shared it with neighbors. It's very interesting to see much younger people who were born in the United States and have no family traditions getting into brewing beer using home kits. Others have gotten into craft beer, or spirits made by local companies, often family-owned companies.