When I first acquired the album, I noticed the "Over" that my grandfather had written across the top. Because of its fragile condition, I had to take care to pull this picture out of its corners and see what Peepeye had written on the flip side:
I knew who "Pop" was: my great-grandfather, Harry Burtnett. Who was Uncle Irvin Allenbaugh? And I knew that Pop had had a younger brother named Earl, but who was Chester? This was at the beginning of my genealogy ventures, when I knew almost nothing about the Burtnett side of my family. What would make it very challenging was that my grandfather, his sisters, and of course, their parents, were all deceased. Almost all I had to go on was Peepeye's good sense in having written on the photo, and providing me with names. I turned to the Internet for help.
Over many years, I discovered only one valuable bit of information about Chester: he had died young. I found online that he was born on May 24, 1884, and had died on June 25, 1906. He was a mere 22 years old. Pop was born November 12, 1888, and had died when I was ten years old, in July of 1986, living almost to the age of 98. "Uncle Earl," as the family refers to him, was born in October, 1895, and died in 1984, at the age of 89. I had also heard that Pop had several sisters, and my Dad even remembered them from his childhood. The only sibling with whom I was unfamiliar was Chester. What had happened to Uncle Chester?
The good news is that I was able to learn that Irvin Allenbaugh was indeed the uncle of Pop, Chester, and all the rest. His sister, Martha Allenbaugh Burtnett, was their mother. The Burtnetts and Allenbaughs lived in Cambria County, Pennsylvania, near Johnstown, in Summerhill Township and some tiny surrounding towns. This sort of information started out, as I said earlier, only with my knowing that Pop had been from Pennsylvania. It's amazing what one can discover on the Internet by typing in a name and a state.
I've also wondered why Uncle Irvin and Chester had this photo professionally taken together. Maybe they both wanted to be photographed, and putting their money together enabled them to spend less. I imagine they were close, as Irvin wasn't too much older than Chester, although he was his uncle and not his brother. I picture them dressing in their finest attire, collars starched, shoes shined, and making the trip from the farm to Johnstown to be photographed. Chester wears the expression of one who took the picture session seriously, and I love the slick look of his hair. He obviously took extra time to comb it just so, in order to look his best for the photo.
Over the years, I have come up short about Chester's death. I found a photo of his tombstone on the Internet through Find a Grave, and knew it was at Mt. Olive Cemetery (formerly Coleman Cemetery) in Summerhill Twp. I knew I had the right Chester Burtnett, because the grave said, "Son of W.K. and Martha," and I knew that those were Pop's parents. Pretty good information, but it always dead-ended there. I have spent years itching to know why Chester died so young, and resigning myself to the fact that I may never know.
I knew that I could always turn to Ancestry.com, but I've never joined. Anyone who does genealogy will tell you that half the fun is the thrill of searching. I had a feeling that someday, somehow, I'd find clues that would lead me to the truth about Chester. I was right! The clue came in the form of a letter, one written by Uncle Earl's wife, Aunt Erma Woodburn Burtnett.
One day a few years ago, my Dad showed up with a folder of old letters, newspaper clippings, and the like. It was a lot of stuff to go through in one sitting, so I looked at it here and there. Erma Burtnett had been married to Uncle Earl, and in August 1986, was still alive and well in Deerfield Beach, Florida. The letter was written to my grandparents to offer condolences upon hearing of the death of Pop.
At the time I acquired this letter, I had already been investigating the mysterious Uncle Chester for probably ten years. I began reading it with no expectation, without Chester on my mind. This is the excerpt that stopped me in my tracks and took my breath away:
"Harry's death marks the end of that Burtnett generation. Most of them lived beyond the 'three-score and ten.' Ada was 79, Eva-95, Annie-96, Alda-73, and Earl, 89. Earl used to speak of an older brother Chester who must have been between Annie and Harry. [At this point, I completely stopped breathing]. He worked on the RR and was killed in an accident about 1906. Their father, W.K., was devastated by his untimely death. Then shortly after that their mother, Martha Allenbaugh, died. W.K. died in 1932--he was 76."
After all that time, after so many years of searching and having no way of finding out short of paying money for access to archives, here was what I had been waiting for! I could have been knocked over with a feather. It was as if Aunt Erma were speaking to me from the dead (she died in 1996), laying out pieces of information that had been mysteries for me for so long. I read the letter again and again, and that particular paragraph even more times. Even now typing it out, I still find it hard to believe that the answers are written out so clearly.
The problem with information like that laid out by Aunt Erma is that it left me desperate to know more. Now I knew how Chester had died: a railroad accident. But I wanted details! Where was he? How did it happen? What was he doing? How would I find out? Genealogy research is like that; you find one needle in a haystack, then itch to find the next one. I now had a vested relationship with Uncle Chester, and had made it this far; I felt I owed it to him to keep putting the puzzle together.
Newspapers in 1906 left little to the imagination, as I knew from research. If there were an accident or other unfortunate incident, writers spared their readers no details. The Cambria Freeman was the local newspaper out of nearby Ebensburg, PA, and is available transcribed online. I looked, and looked, only to end up frustrated with no more information about Chester. No accident, no obituary...nothing. I discovered that the Johnstown, PA library has issues of its paper, the Tribune-Democrat, going back to the 1800's. They charge money to look it up, print it, and send it, but I feared I would be unable to communicate exactly to the librarians what I wanted. This seemed too big a deal to just "send off" for something.
There was only one thing to do. Meet me next time at the microfilm machine on Main Street in Johnstown as I sift through the June 26, 1906 evening edition of the Tribune-Democrat!
I knew that I could always turn to Ancestry.com, but I've never joined. Anyone who does genealogy will tell you that half the fun is the thrill of searching. I had a feeling that someday, somehow, I'd find clues that would lead me to the truth about Chester. I was right! The clue came in the form of a letter, one written by Uncle Earl's wife, Aunt Erma Woodburn Burtnett.
One day a few years ago, my Dad showed up with a folder of old letters, newspaper clippings, and the like. It was a lot of stuff to go through in one sitting, so I looked at it here and there. Erma Burtnett had been married to Uncle Earl, and in August 1986, was still alive and well in Deerfield Beach, Florida. The letter was written to my grandparents to offer condolences upon hearing of the death of Pop.
At the time I acquired this letter, I had already been investigating the mysterious Uncle Chester for probably ten years. I began reading it with no expectation, without Chester on my mind. This is the excerpt that stopped me in my tracks and took my breath away:
"Harry's death marks the end of that Burtnett generation. Most of them lived beyond the 'three-score and ten.' Ada was 79, Eva-95, Annie-96, Alda-73, and Earl, 89. Earl used to speak of an older brother Chester who must have been between Annie and Harry. [At this point, I completely stopped breathing]. He worked on the RR and was killed in an accident about 1906. Their father, W.K., was devastated by his untimely death. Then shortly after that their mother, Martha Allenbaugh, died. W.K. died in 1932--he was 76."
After all that time, after so many years of searching and having no way of finding out short of paying money for access to archives, here was what I had been waiting for! I could have been knocked over with a feather. It was as if Aunt Erma were speaking to me from the dead (she died in 1996), laying out pieces of information that had been mysteries for me for so long. I read the letter again and again, and that particular paragraph even more times. Even now typing it out, I still find it hard to believe that the answers are written out so clearly.
The problem with information like that laid out by Aunt Erma is that it left me desperate to know more. Now I knew how Chester had died: a railroad accident. But I wanted details! Where was he? How did it happen? What was he doing? How would I find out? Genealogy research is like that; you find one needle in a haystack, then itch to find the next one. I now had a vested relationship with Uncle Chester, and had made it this far; I felt I owed it to him to keep putting the puzzle together.
Newspapers in 1906 left little to the imagination, as I knew from research. If there were an accident or other unfortunate incident, writers spared their readers no details. The Cambria Freeman was the local newspaper out of nearby Ebensburg, PA, and is available transcribed online. I looked, and looked, only to end up frustrated with no more information about Chester. No accident, no obituary...nothing. I discovered that the Johnstown, PA library has issues of its paper, the Tribune-Democrat, going back to the 1800's. They charge money to look it up, print it, and send it, but I feared I would be unable to communicate exactly to the librarians what I wanted. This seemed too big a deal to just "send off" for something.
There was only one thing to do. Meet me next time at the microfilm machine on Main Street in Johnstown as I sift through the June 26, 1906 evening edition of the Tribune-Democrat!
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