Diary of a Medium, Georgianne (Hagerman) Jones, 1928

Georgianna Hagerman, 1888,  Fredericton, New Brunswick.
My mother's mother's mother, before life got to her, but already looking a bit glum.
She was variously called Georgia, Georgia Ann, Georgie, Georgianne, Georgie Ann, and Georgianna 

My first genealogical education was the National Genealogical Society’s Basic American Genealogy home study course. An early assignment was to interview a relative we had never met in order to practice interviewing and learn more about that branch. So my sister Ann and I went to visit my mother’s maternal first cousin, Jackie (Jones) Towler in July of 1998. My mother had passed away two years earlier, and since Jackie was in the older generation and from a side of the family I knew little about she fit nicely. Though there was a 17 year age gap between Jackie and my mother, they had always been very fond of each other.

Jackie had genealogical experience and understood my interest in family history. She had successfully researched my great-uncles’ births in Lawrence for my mother, but the birth of my grandmother, Vernetta Gertrude Jones was nowhere to be found––by Jackie, my mother, my Aunt Abbie, or even Vernetta herself, who was an ardent genealogist! 

Ann and I went to the home of Jackie and her husband, Herbert ("Red") in Lawrence armed with a video camera. Jackie had also invited her sister, Barbara, and they had gathered some old photos and assorted memorabilia. One item in particular just blew me away –– a typescript of the diary of Vernetta's mother, Georgianna (Hagerman) Jones. (See the variety of ways her name appears in records in the caption under her photo, above.) Jackie had given the original diary to her son Jared, and he transcribed and typed it. It looks like he transcribed it verbatim, but sometimes I can’t tell if he has made typos or if Georgianna did! So in my transcription of the transcription, I fixed the obvious ones (i.e. uncerstand, mornign, etc.). I surely would love to see the original, though! Apart from the obvious need to get down to the original for accuracy purposes, the diary is in Georgie's handwriting, which add would add so much depth to something as poignant as this.

Georgianna was a Spiritualist, and communicated regularly with the Great Beyond. She held dinner séances where guests paid a fee to dine and then chat with their dearly departed over coffee. My mother Priscilla (Barnes) FitzGerald was her granddaughter, and I can still see the childlike excitement on her face as she recounted visiting her grandmother and being allowed to collect money at these dinners, starting at the impressionable age of six.

Georgianna’s son, Frank Dewey Jones, died at the age of 29 on 4 December 1927. [1] His death certificate gives lobar pneumonia as the cause of death, but Jackie thought it might have been from tainted alcohol he obtained (Prohibition). The diary mentions his legs giving him trouble, but I do not know what that refers to. Georgie was obviously heartbroken, and used her diary as a way to comfort herself and make sense out of her painful world by channelling her son and documenting her own feelings. 

Jones/Barnes Gathering circa 1925, location unknown,
perhaps the Barnes summer cottage at Rivermoor, Scituate, Mass.
Back Row, L-R: Cecil Jones, Bill Barnes, Ernest Jones, Georgianne (Hagerman) Jones, Priscilla Barnes
Front Row: Louise Barnes, Frank Jones holding twin Anne Barnes,
Billy Barnes turned away, Jared Smith Jones holding twin Abbie Barnes.
Missing is Vernetta (Jones) Barnes, probably the one taking the photo, which has her parents, siblings, husband and children.

Georgianne's diary mentions other family members:

• Her husband, Jared Smith Jones, “Pa”;

• Sons Ernest Jared, born 1895; Clowes Warren, born 1900; and Cecil Roy born 1907. Cecil was Jackie and Barbara’s father.

• Daughter Vernetta Gertrude (Jones) Barnes, “Vernie”, and her husband “Bill” or William Otis Barnes (my grandparents);

• Bill's mother, “Mrs. Barnes”, Bethia Augusta (Clapp) Barnes, who had died on 6 February 1928--only five days before Georgianne started the diary;

• Vernie and Bill’s children, Priscilla (my mother), Louise, Billy, and twins Abbie and Anne, whose ages ranged from three to thirteen;

So far I have not been able to ascertain the identity of “Nolan.”

Jones family photos are rare. I have one that could be of Frank, but all it says, in my grandmother's handwriting, is "Uncle Frank 1920". He looks older than 22 to me, and is dressed in a fine suit, which seems exaggerated given his occupation as clerk. She usually labelled people by how they related to her, so it's odd that she'd call him "Uncle Frank." As far as I know she didn't have an Uncle Frank, though, so perhaps it is, indeed, him.

The diary is almost a stream of consciousness, which is why I love it. I’m including a few of her entries below to give you a feel for it. It is too long to include in its entirety, but when I get my act together, I will upload it to my website.

Detail of above, Georgianne (Hagerman) Jones
Born 3 Feb 1868, Queensbury, York, New Brunswick
Died 3 June 1932, Lawrence, Essex, Massachusetts

-------

Saturday 

Feb. 11th 1928 

Mrs. Barnes [speaking to her daughter's mother-in-law]

you have gone to your beautiful home over there. I have been thinking of you ever since you passed on

First you was always good, sweet and good to everybody. Always wore a smile and dear Frank liked you and you was good to him and all the boys and to all of us.

I know you are happy
Just gone on before
Through the open door
Where all the love ones met
you and I hear the soft
Murmur. Ah so happy so happy 

-------

Feb. 11th 1928

Ah spirit of light that has
guided you right
be though of good cheer
knowing we are here
sending rays of light
Around you day and night
ah though spirits we arte
to be attuned with the great divine
spirit until we shall rise above

all the trying and grey condirations. Each day may we ask guidance for that day. When the day is done give thanks for something good that has been done.

Knowing that God is lone power and strength sufficient for all needs. For all times and places. giving thanks at the end of the day

call all the wise spirits that you can each day at your command. Then soar in heights unknown until you are healed in mind soul and spirit heading back to earth that you have received in the silence when you ask and then receive, give thanks. Ah, though great divine spirit and loved ones that come close to me I give thank for the prayer that you answered when I said save my boy, the loved one of earth now in spirit. Who am I, so small, that

you heard the call and answered. Again I bow my head in thanks trying and believing that I will see that. I remain good and true always guided by truth love and have faith in thee.

Georgie

-------

march 12th 1928 

a letter from Frank was shown to me this morning. This is what it appeared to me. 

Dear Ma

I am alright and happy. Think of me just away doing well and that you will hear from time to time from me. Always thinking of home and love for all, hoping you will be as happy as you can be feeling in the space and time on rejoicing that I have gained a new place; not a stranger in a strange land but many faces. I see that seem to know me. And they lead me and guide me, with the thought always before me that I will be able to come into the home and you will know. And then I can help you. So don’t think it was a great sorrow that you have to dwell in but a great gain for you and me. Listen, Ma Dear the best place yep. Keep on thinking that yes, I see you. I went with you to see his mother. Keep on. Don’t turn to the right or left. Keep straight ahead. They would harm shall stand just where they are. Yes, poor Pa, I see him. I know when he thinks about me. I will (----) again like Clousy [Clowes] from Florida. Cecil heard me. Ernest thinks about me. I with he was happy now. He will soon be working. Better days are showing ahead

love oh love love

Frank

P.S. Bill, Vernie and all of them, I think of them and all the old times. Tell Vernie don’t cry, Vernie everything is all right. Good night.

Frank

-------

March 13th 1928

Dear Ma

No time, no place, just a great big place, always on the move. Always something new. I was glad everyone received my message. All but Clousy. It seems like collecting all your thought on one big whole. I am beginning to know and understand. I am not sorry it all happened as it did. It seemed like floating. Now I know. Don’t be sorry for anything. Just listen and I will be around. I wouldn’t want to be back in the old way. But glad I know that I can come into the home. The circle will never be broken. I am and will be one of you. That will be seen later. Of all the wonders that I passed through sometimes it seemed like being on a great wave that was always on the move. There came times when I could see through. Sometimes I would see you all--Sad- And I wished you could see it as it was, not with doubts and downcast. You heared me saying, Of course not. I could vibrate that and thought if I could of that I would be able to get something more through. I have heard ringing. something like this: The winds and waves, they shall all obey thy will. Peace. Be still. It sounded great. Something like the radio. There is a great wave that will wash over you. Then all old things will be washed away. Everything will be new. Remember I am alright. Just keep on to the end of the way. I will come nearly every day. Will go with you someday. I have no fear. Good ahead.

Love, Ah love

Frank

From out of the Silent throng 

-------

March 14th 1928 

Dear Mother

I come on the wave of the morning. You know I am not so far away. We don’t stand still. I haven’t got so very far but what I have learned is very clear and I am happy expecting something to be shown to me. I sense that I will see clearer and be able to get just a little farther. I was weary and my feet and legs bothered me so much that sometimes I go through again, but have been placed in the healing power class. I wonder sometimes how you learned it of knowing those things. There was no beginning you just tuned in. And I am going to find out a lot and tell you. Sometimes it’s light and sometimes clouded and shaky, but no grief. Know I think of you all, then I look and wonder, but will soon be so I will get it clear; the soldiers on the fields and the great white Pope that walked beside. You will get well and stand before the people as you have been told you would. I have a lot to work out yet but am happy you know. Yes love oh love

Frank

from a land that knows no sorrow

-------

I can feel her pain right in the pit of my stomach. The poor woman managed to calm herself this way, and at the same time, gives us an extremely personal peek into her heart. It's so touching. 

1. Massachusetts, Department of Public Health, Deaths, 1927, Lawrence, reg. no. 1056, Franklin D. Jones, 4 December 1927; certified copy issued by the Bureau of Vital Records and Statistics, Columbia Point, Boston, Mass.

My Mother's Genealogy Research Log/Travel Diary from May 1981

Three of four sisters and five siblings
Abbie (Barnes) Thompson, Priscilla (Barnes) FitzGerald
and Louise (Barnes) Sullivan, later Dodds
circa 1980, Scituate, Mass.

I miss my mother every day. She was so alive with curiosity and humor and integrity and love. Above all, she was really, really bright. Had a great memory and could, inter alia, calculate math problems in her head, knit argyle socks on size 0 needles, do the NY Times crossword in pen if she wanted (she was too humble to do so), tend a mean vegetable and flower garden, cane chairs, and she loved history and genealogy. She was patient and worked hard at everything and didn't get many official vacations, so she used everyday opportunities to have fun. I keep wishing she were around to experience genealogy on the web, and the big conferences, and all of the fun and rewarding things I get to do.

Happily, my mother, Priscilla, or "Ma," as I called her, kept the a few diaries in her lifetime. On this occasion, she and my Aunt Abbie managed to get away from their domestic duties long enough to go on genealogy tour! And happily again, she kept a diary of the trip. I just love this more than I can explain. I was flitting around in college at the time, totally NOT interested in genealogy, glad that my mother and aunt could have a grand time together, but thinking their research and interest in genealogy was, well, quaint. Now I'd forfeit a limb to have been on that trip with them. Such is life, I guess. "Don't it always seem to go," yada yada...

So, here it is, I know I have some photos of their trip in my office somewhere, but it will have to remain for another time that I unearth and post them. I added a few follow-up emails from my darling and equally brilliant Aunt Abbie which she wrote after I sent her the transcription.

Notes from Priscilla FitzGerald’s Diary, 

"Trip to Frederickton, New Brunswick with sister Abbie Thompson, for Purpose of Ancestor Hunting"

May, 1981

Wednesday, May 20, 1981

Left home at 9:45am. Take off at 11:20. Lovely seat, companion from Phoenix Arizona - said, "Don't make me look out the window or the plane will fall." Had to put down and go through customs in Yarmouth. Arrived in Halifax 2:30 or so. Had to wait for Provincial Air lines flight to Fredericton until 6:30. Arr. in Fredericton 7:25. Abbie already familiar with the city. Had late supper of seafood chowder which was yummy. Late to bed – long after 12. (In parenthesis in margin, "Called Jim.")

Thursday, May 21, 1981

Had breakfast at hotel (Hotel Beaverbrook). To the Archives at 8:30. Had lunch at Keddy Motel. To Archives until 5:00pm. Bought book at Archives autographed by author Rob't Fellows. Found that John Hagerman owned land where the Legislative buildings are (and Hotel Beaverbrook) and died on the way back to St. John after a trip to Fredericton. Shopped for food and booze, came back to hotel to sample same. Had a late supper and went to bed late. (In margin, "Called Hagermans to tell Doris we would be out Sunday.")

Friday May 22, 1981

Slept until 7:20. Five minutes late getting to the Archives. Found Peleg Tripp's parents were Peleg Tripp and Jane Ogden. Lovely late dinner – fish dinner. Sitting around relaxing and Abbie says, "One nice thing about this trip, no phones are ringing." Phone rang. Paul Brewer called and arranged to travel with us Saturday. Played 2-handed bridge. To bed late.

Saturday, May 23, 1981

Up at 6:00am - breakfasted on cheese omelet. Picked up Paul Brewer across the river and went to Tripp Settlement, Burtt's Corners. Jones Forks examining cemetaries. Saw where the Mactaquac Dam has risen and filled up the valley with water. Paul talked to a Harry Gilbey and he says that prob. Peleg Tripp (the first – Loyalist) was prob. buried on a ridge near Keswick Ridge on his own property. Said Peleg was supposed to be a wheeler-dealer. Had lunch at the lovely Mactaquac Country Club. Went shopping for booze for Jim, present for Polly and slippers. Raw and very windy out. Walked a long way looking for a book store – which was closed. Late supper and late to bed.

Sunday, May 24, 1981

Rose early enough, but didn't get under weigh until 7:20. Motored up to Hartland to see and drive over and back on the longest wooden bridge in the world. Came back down #2 highway and crossed the river at Nackawic. Had a little difficulty finding our Hagermans, but found them. First, we went to church and there was Neil Hagerman. (Passed a church with the steeple lying on the ground.) Doris and Neil Hagerman not very interested in our visit, but Donnie was there and we both loved him. He took us down to show us how high the river had risen – their house would be about one third of the way across the river – showed us all the pictures of the family and went with us to see the Bear Island Cemetery – where his father and mother, grandfather and mother and great grandfather and mother and Aunt Maud and Cousin Alma Lint are buried.*  Beautiful cemetery on a high hill. Donald is a lovely man. Weather fine. People boating on the river. Found that "Captain J. Hagerman d. 1838 aged LVI also May his wife died Dec. 26, 1849 aged 72 years." were bd. there. Mary was born in Long Island. Also buried, but with no stones were Isaac and Louisa and Jacob and Mehitabel. Myles Hagerman was buried in B. I. Cemetery also. (Donnie's brother.) Major domo at church presented Ab and me with a pen and key ring. All kinds of birds to be seen. Donnie stated matter-of-factly that Doris is "senile now." No apologies. No glossing.

Happy hour.

Had a fisherman's platter for dinner. (Ate junk food and nothing else all day.) Wrote cards. To bed late.

*Probably Cornelius, father of Jacob, and his wife are there, too, but nobody knows. Because of the Mactaquac Dam, Church, cemetery, inhabitants, live inhabitants and all were moved uphill. Interesting. Cornelius was son of Captain John. Donnie gave Abbie a piece of yellow brick for her fireplace. (In margin, "Called Jim, Louise and Anne.")

May 25, 1981 Monday

Up early and to Archives. Found that Betsey Smith's parents were Stephen Smith and Elizabeth Golden. A good find. Had lunch at the Keddy – onion soup and a poor drink. Back to Archives until 4:00pm or so and then to Harriet Irving Library and then to Geary to see the Carr Cemetery and then around Grand Lake to see Cumberland Point where John Stillwell was at one time – Sparsely settled. Looked in all the church yards but couldn't find any Stillwells. Crossed the St. John River on a ferry boat and came home the scenic way. Arrived at hotel 8:30 had a quick sherry and braised beef for supper. All the apple orchards are in bloom. Very pretty. Also found Grandmother Jones (Isaac Hagerman's family), and Jared Jones (Darius Jones' family) in the 1881 census list. He was 20 and she was 12.

Tuesday, May 26, 1981

Up early – breakfasted at hotel and got to Archives at 8:30. Didn't find anything new but tied up loose ends of a couple of things. Had to get stamps and get my money out of hotel safe, so we came back to hotel to have lunch. Returned to Archives and spent an hour or more and then took a tour up around Kewsick Ridge and Burtt's Corner and looked at 3 or 4 more cemeteries. Rain off and on. Returned to hotel about 7:30. Had happy hour and ate an enormous and delicious and expensive dinner across the street at the Victoria and Albert restaurant. Had 2 sherries, a tossed salad, lamb chops and braised tomatoes, and tasty mushrooms and then half a piece of fresh strawberry cheesecake and coffee. Saw beautiful scenes on our trip today and yesterday and Sunday and Saturday. Came upon 2 young men stranded in the wilderness but as I had a lot of money on me, we passed them by. But stopped at the first house we saw to report that they should be helped. Hope they were. (In parenthesis in margin, "Called Jim.")

E-mail from Ab. Oct. 1997

My Loyalist number is----MC  2041-80, and I think it was through John Stillwell. They wanted me to go through Hagerman because it was closer to my generation.  But I knew that would then go through Vernetta, and we had no birth for her. Stillwell came down through Jared Jones so was easier to prove. Maybe I can send you my line. If I can find it. Lots of Loyalists we have--Hagerman, Ogden, maybe Tripp, Smith, Stillwell, Boone, Burtt, Golden, Foreman, Carr, Whelpley, but not the Joneses. They were pre-Loyalist.

E-mail from

Ab. 11/7/97

Thank you for the diary of your Ma's re that week in Fredericton, N.B. Except when I was a little girl and sick a lot in winter & your Ma would read lovely books to me that week was the nicest time I ever had with Priscilla. We were doing what we both loved and had a peachy time besides.

Growing Up in a Massachusetts Mill Town

My grandmother Vernetta "Vernie" Gertrude (Jones) Barnes was born in Lawrence, Essex County, Massachusetts in 1892. Her parents were newly-arrived immigrants, having come down from New Brunswick, like countless other immigrants, in search of jobs, better living conditions, and prospects for their children’s futures. When they arrived, Lawrence was a booming textile center, a leading producer of woolens. Her father, Jared, was a 30-year old farmer, strong and accustomed to hard work, which he readily found upon his arrival. Lawrence mills were reaching their pinnacle of production, and treatment of the mostly foreign-born workers became ever-more unacceptable, as companies continually pushed their employees for higher output.

The woolen and cotton mills employed over 40,000 persons, about half of Lawrence's population over age fourteen...Office workers averaged about $8.76 for a full week's work. In addition, the cost of living was higher in Lawrence than elsewhere in New England. Rents, paid on a weekly basis, ranged from $1.00 to $6.00 a week for small tenement apartments in frame buildings which the Neil Report found "extra hazardous" in construction and potential firetraps. Congestion was worse in Lawrence than in any other city in New England; mill families in 58 percent of the homes visited by federal investigators found it necessary to take in boarders to raise enough money for rent...Of the 22,000 textile workers investigated by Labor Commissioner Neil, well over half were women and children who found it financially imperative to work in the mills. Half of all the workers in the four Lawrence mills of the American Woolen Company were girls between ages fourteen and eighteen. Dr. Elizabeth Shapleigh, a Lawrence physician, wrote: "A considerable number of the boys and girls die within the first two or three years after beginning work . . . thirty-six out of every 100 of all the men and women who work in the mill die before or by the time they are twenty-five years of age. Because of malnutrition, work strain, and occupational diseases, the average mill worker's life in Lawrence was over twenty-two years shorter than that of the manufacturer, stated Dr. Shapleigh...  Early in January 1912 I.W.W. activities focused on a dramatic ten-week strike of 25,000 textile workers in Lawrence, Massachusetts. It became the most widely publicized I.W.W. conflict, acquainting the nation with the plight of the unskilled, foreign-born worker as well as with the organization's philosophy of radical unionism. 

(Joyce Kornbluh, Lucy Parsons Project Bread and Roses: The 1912 Lawrence textile Strike, webpage (www.lucyparsonsproject.org/iww/kornbluh_bread_ roses.html : accessed June 2008); citing: Kornbluh, Joyce, Rebel Voices: An IWW Anthology, (Chicago: Charles H. Kerr Publishing, 1988).)

Family stories say that Vernetta was not able to continue her education after graduation from the Emily G. Wetherby School in 1906 at age 14, and was obliged to go directly to work in the woolen mills. If she did, it was only for a short while. And she was very lucky to have survived, given the above-cited statistics!

The 1910 census tells us that by the age of 18, she had moved up to a position of bookkeeper in a grocery store, so we know that she was out of the horrible working conditions of the mills, and would have only witnessed, not participated in, the momentous Bread and Roses strike of 1912. The advantages of speaking English and looking like a Yankee, plus her own intelligence and drive, must have helped her tremendously. When her wedding was announced in 1913, she was described as “a popular operator at the local telephone exchange,” a job that she enjoyed. A story has been passed down in the family about her eavesdropping on a steamy conversation, and giving herself away by letting out a heartfelt sigh. This was risky behavior for a telephone operator!

I always attribute any brains in our family to my grandmother Vernetta. She surrounded herself with books, was very involved in the community and didn't give a hoot about housekeeping (she left that to my poor mother, eldest child!) Best of all, Grandma was a genealogist and passed the passion down to my mother, my aunt and me.

Imagine all of the lives wasted in those mills! I consider myself lucky to be alive when I read about the evil conditions there and I thank my grandmother for understanding that it was her continuing self-education that kept her out of them.

Treasure Chest Thursday - Georgia's Glass Jar

Certain items in my possession

were passed down to me with a higher-than usual degree of decorum. This cut glass jar with sterling lid is one of them. My mother told me, when she presented it to me with a flourish, that it is the only surviving item from my great-grandmother, Georgianna (Hagerman) Jones (1868–1932). This makes a girl sit up and take notice. Your mother's mother's mother and one item remains? You bet I was listening!

My mother kept marbles in it, crystals, just like I do. She kept it in a secretary desk that my father brought home "from Sam's" one day. Sam's was an antique/second hand shop used that he used to frequent, owned by a man named Sam Castano. Sam and Pops became best buddies, despite the fact that each was taught in early childhood to despise the ethnic group of the other. When my father grew up in East Boston, gangs of Italian kids used to fight gangs of Irish kids. That's the way it was and still is: new immigrants fighting slightly older immigrant groups for a piece of the pie. According to angelic Pops, he never partook in these activities, and actually, I sort of believe that he didn't, for his bark was far worse than his bite. Yet, it scarred him and left him wary of Italians in general. I'm sure Sam felt the same way about the Irish. So when Pops and Sam first had dealings with each other it must have been against each's better judgment! Yet, Pops continued to frequent Sam's, and they became very close friends. I learned as a small child that whenever Daddy brought a treasure home, it must have come from Sam's. I still remember the day that the secretary arrived, mostly because my mother was pleased with it. Generally she could think of better ways to invest the family income than in antiques! But on that day she was ecstatic and immediately began loading her favorite keepsakes onto the shelves.

Like much of the content of my mother's house, the secretary passed down to my brother Tim and family. With three small children, the secretary's function changed from curio display to videotape library, and after a few years the scratched and battered secretary was banished to his barn. I asked him one fine day if I might adopt its warped and mildewed self, and Tim obliged, so we carried it back to Shrewsbury. It stunk badly of mold, and aggravated some hearty allergic reactions. We had it refinished and finally I was overjoyed to place Georgianna's glass jar upon the shelf once more.

Georgianna and her husband Jared Smith Jones (1860–1943) were born in New Brunswick, Canada. They were both descended from Loyalists who had fled the brand new United States at the conclusion of the American Revolution. A century later they were part of the mass immigration into the US in the late nineteenth century, in search of jobs and a better life. They went to Lawrence, Massachusetts and Jared worked variously in the textile mills and driving a team of horses. I know that they had very little money. I wonder if, and want to believe that the glass jar belonged first to Georgia's mother, Louisa (Carr) Hagerman.

My grandmother Vernetta was Georgianna's only daughter. Vernetta had four daughters. The matrilineal line died out in my Aunt Louise's line and in my mother's line, since my sister and I do not have daughters bearing daughters. I have inherited the glass jar purely by chance. But I want this jar to remain a matrilineal, mitochondrial DNA kind of hand-me down. So, when I die, it will go to one of the female descendants of either my Aunt Anne or Aunt Abbie (twins) both of whom have daughters with daughters with daughters! Though she may not know it, some little girl had an ancestor who cherished a piece of cut glass and kept it safe to pass down, just for her. What good is studying family history if you don't bring it to life for younger generations? Maybe, in some small way, this jar will do just that.