Lincoln Park Legacy - A New Journey

Telling the story of the Lincoln Park Baptist Church will require many voices. My voice, encased in my personal experiences with this institution will be here at my blog. However, the new Lincoln Park Legacy blog will be the newsfeed for the many voices I hope to restore to our collective memory. After my first segment of the Lincoln Park story told here, I encourage you to visit the new and official blog of the project to learn more and follow along as we uncover historical gems and past identities.

My introduction to Lincoln Park Baptist Church in Cincinnati Ohio came through my parents and grandparents. My grandparents were members of this church between the span of the late 1950s to the mid-1980s. My parents were married here, yet they did not belong to this congregation as they made their own family. Actually, many of my family members were married here: My aunts and uncles, and a few cousins.

Among my personal memories, I can relate a few: visiting many times with the grandparents, attending Sunday school on occasion with my cousin, attending weddings, and two favorite memories that my family love retelling when they need a good laugh. The time when I was 3 years old and had an accident that made my grandmother think her water pills were playing tricks on her, and the only time I was ever asked to be a flower girl in a wedding – I fainted dead away while standing so long, and hit my head on the seat of the hard wooden pew. This was my cousin’s wedding, and my aunt supposedly has an audio tape of the horrible, loud “bong” that my hard head made as it hit the pew. Have no fear, there were no lasting mental effects – at least that is what they continued to tell me over the years.

Back in 2007, my Aunt, who was still a member of this church, invited my parents and I up to visit during the “homecoming” celebration. This yearly event was special in 2007 for a couple of reasons. 1. The Church was celebrating 165 years of being a congregation. 2. This would probably be their last celebration because the building was about to be sold and the congregation had voted to merge with another in order to survive in any capacity. There was a third reason I was called up – due to the anniversary, all of the historical items of the church’s long history would be on display, and with my Special Collections training/history degree/genealogy experience, they could use an expert pair of eyes. At this point, the congregation knew they had a unique collection, but had no idea what to do with it once they merged with another church.

My visit in 2007 was thrilling. I instantly fell in love with this collection. It was rich and fairly well preserved. There were stories of women missionaries to China, immigrant congregations, healing ministries, hardships through the decades of American history, and just plain adorable social tidbits. After snapping some initial photos of the collection, I recommended some options if they intended to keep the collection, or if they planned on donating it to another entity.

Within the next year, I was invited back to take a closer look, give even more detailed preservation advice, and this time, advise on packing. By now, the church building had sold, and the moving had already begun. Knowing the long history of this church, I was saddened by these turn of events.

There were many in the congregation that understood the scope and value of this collection, but they were not ready to part with it. They had the foresight to plan for preserving the material, but were unsure how to go about this properly. They set aside some money to purchase preservation material and to house the items in an environmentally controlled space. However, after a few years of debating, a mold outbreak, lack of space, and re-allocation of some of the money, plans were altered by necessity. This is where I came back into the picture within the capacity of Pastology.

Under our normal operating procedures, we advise on how to set up digitization efforts in-house, in the hopes of preserving and digitizing items on a long term basis. With the Lincoln Park remnants, circumstances were changing fast, and it was evident that a long-term digitization/preservation effort was not possible with the few volunteers they had on hand. Also, their new facilities were not conducive to maintaining the items securely. Extra help was needed, and due to our unique relationship, Pastology agreed to digitize off-site, with each newly digitized batch of documents being donated to a local historical society, for longterm preservation of the original material. Another reason for this choice was the desire for quick and full access of these documents for the remaining members who are aging fast. Part of this new project will also include a portion devoted to oral history. Hopefully we can add to the collection with some oral history interviews in the near future.

That is about it for my personal connection to this collection. When I say Pastology will be digitizing the collection, that means, me, myself and I. This one is near and dear to me, so I’m taking this one on all by my lonesome. Disclaimer: Pastology is under contract and is being paid for the digitization efforts…..we are NOT however, being paid to wallow in how much fun wading through all of this content has already proven to be! What is it they say about a pig wallowing in mud? Sometimes it feels like that with the dust, and yes, a bit of mold from time to time, but I am as happy as that proverbial pig!

To follow along on the journey and keep tabs on the wonderful historical gems we uncover, please consider following our newest blog Lincoln Park Legacy. We also have a new twitter account: @oldlincolnpark. Once the newly digitized documents are entered into Pastology, they will be free to access. For any of you with Cincinnati relatives/ancestors…..you will want to keep tabs on this collection. The congregation was downtown for over a hundred years with as many as 1000 members at the turn of the century. One of the most fantastic things we have to digitize is a large number of completed member cards, some as far back as the 1920s. Many new Romanian and Hungarian immigrants attended this church for sometime as well…..and that is just the tip of the iceberg!

So far, my favorite serendipity moment:

I was allowed to come take charge of a few document tubs at a time. Nothing is in any order anymore, so I did poke through some of the collection to create a tub with some of the oldest things first – they will need the quickest preservation care. As soon as I arrived home with the tubs, I grabbed a few files to look through. One photo in a clear sleeve slipped out on top of the others – the subject: an adult Sunday school class from the 1950s – in the front row – my grandparents - well at least Grandpa and half of Grandma.....but still a fun moment!

Sepia Saturday - Looking at Anna

By all genealogical accounts, Anna Beyersdoerfer runs a high risk of becoming invisible to history. Known as the maiden aunt of our family, there are no pictures of her in a wedding dress, nor any of her holding babies. She had no descendants, and therefore, very few people to remember her. We have a few pictures of her, but none or next to none within the larger family gatherings. Anna seems to stand alone in artifact as well as she did in life. However, Anna recently made a grand showing that has piqued my interest in this very independent woman.

Born to John and Emma (Fliehmann) Beyersdoerfer in 1901, Anna was the youngest daughter of nine children. Her parents had a farm in Bracken County Kentucky, near the small town of Foster, which sits on the Ohio River. Both sets of grandparents, the Beyersdoerfers and Fliehmanns had large farms overlooking the river. Her family's small farm was tucked down in a valley known as Willow Creek. The steep hills of northern Kentucky meant a pretty challenging farm life, but her parents tapped into their German heritage and produced wine to sell in Covington as a supplement to their income.

According to census records, most of the children stayed on the farm to help well into their twenties. Marriage was usually the impetus to move on and begin a life for themselves, but when marriage did not appear as an option for Anna, she moved forward on her own, opting for life in the big city of Cincinnati Ohio. Her brother Lawrence and his family lived in Cincinnati as well, so she was not completely alone. However, she did not live with her relatives, but took a job as a domestic servant.

By 1930 she was residing in the home of Walter and Francis Klein up near Clifton. This couple apparently had no children and she was the only servant in their household. At the time, she was 28, and the Kleins were 44 and 38. Hardly elderly, this merchant couple also piques my interest. They must have had a decent size home to have a servant during the depression, yet, not a house full of servants, which demonstrated either a sense of modesty, or frugality in tough times. But at such a young age, with no children to care for, I can't help but wonder if they had a more exciting social life.

Skipping ahead to her death in 1988, we knew Anna had been a nurse most of her life. By 1951, she was listed in the city directory as a "nurses aide" at Bethesda Hospital. My mother visited her shortly before her death in Newport Kentucky, and she had a sharp, clear mind. She gave my mother details about the family history that we had never heard before. She included maiden names, burial locations, married names, etc. As an evident keeper of the past, her information turned out to be priceless as I began my own journey into our family history a few years later.

However, it is the time frame between about 1920 and 1951 that has set off my detective radar. An independent woman of the 1920s and 30s was not a common thing. Spinsters were, of course, fairly common, but Anna somehow did not fit that mold.

A few years ago, due to my main Journeys Past web site, a relative by marriage learned of my existence, and decided to send me some family artifacts they had in their possession. They were the family of Anna's brother Myron's wife. Ok, try to un-cross your eyes on that one! Anna's brother Myron married rather late in life to a woman names Eleanor, but they had no children. After Eleanor's death, her family found some items that belonged to Myron and they decided to graciously return the items to our family. After checking with the other Beyersdoerfer men, they unanimously chose me to be the recipient since they weren't all that interested in the family history - definitely a perk to being known as the family historian! I plan to write a piece about Myron soon, because his artifacts included some things from his service in WWII, and one picture in particular that had me up in the stacks of the library researching campaign locations....so stay tuned for that one.

Among Myron's things, was a photo of him and his sister Anna sitting on the front of matching cars. I could tell the cars were sitting at the farm on Willow Creek, and the back of the photo said "Myron & Anna, Brother & Sister, with our new cars, Ford bought same year, Richie Brothers auto Dealers took it." According to the license plates, the year was 1935, and both brother and sister look rather dapper in their fancy outfits and brand new cars. After a few minutes of awwing over this awesome photo, it suddenly hit me that Aunt Anna was a single woman in 1935. How could a single domestic servant make enough money to purchase a brand new car during thos tough economic times? I'm assuming Myron was still on the farm since family reports says he even lived there as long as Grandma Emma was still alive. But then, those don't exactly look like farmer duds. Interesting, since he would have been about 28 while she would have been about 33.

I'm not positive that Anna was with the Kliens in 1940, but in that year's city directory, Anna was still listed as a "maid", and living either in her own place, or in another family's household. Her new address was 2831 Vernon Place, which was in the same general Clifton area as her 1930 residence on Alaska Avenue with the Kleins. So needless to say, in 1935, she was still a domestic servant, and obviously a well paid one. I can't help but think there may be more to her story than she is telling us, but conjecture will only go so far until it reaches my frontal conspiratorial romanticized lobes, and loses all sense of reality.....so I will speculate no more.

Since researching her paper trail only created more questions, I started looking for more pictures of Anna. As I stated before, I'm having a really hard time finding her in the family group photos, but I did find a few more of her with two different men. Both men were from the area and about her age, but both went on to marry other women. I cannot say for certain that they were love interests, but in one photo from May of 1926, the two are sitting very close together and she is holding a small bouquet of flowers. She is obviously fairly young in the photos, no more than her twenties, but usually with that trademark tilt of her head and wry smile. I get the feeling I would have gotten along very well with the young Anna. I sense she had a tremendous amount of spunk and independence......or perhaps spunk and the determination to work hard enough to forget a broken heart? Sorry, couldn't help that one.

Even though I cannot remember meeting "Aunt Annie", as the younger generation called her, I remember her estate dispersal. We were allowed into a storage room full of shelves that were loaded with odds and ends. Her life was scattered about the room in the form of tangible objects. If she could have been there, what stories could she have told us about each item? Were there family artifacts there that were rendered silent as we passed by and therefore left to be sold to a stranger? My mother tried to locate things she thought looked old enough to be from the family. She picked up a depression era pink cherry blossom glass bowl, and a single glass goblet with bubbles in it. Several people in the room passed by a very large portrait that leaned against the shelves, until my mother recognized the face....it was Anna's mother, Emma Fliehmann Beyersdoerfer. Mom quickly brought it to the attention of my Grandmother (Anna's niece) Frieda, and they quickly saved Grandma Emma's portrait from the auction block. Reflecting back on the things we don't know about Anna, were there mementos among the possessions that spoke of lost or unrequited love? Sadly, or maybe appropriately, that remains Anna's secret.

CD

6/12/10

This is my first Sepia Saturday post - week #27! To join the fun, click here.