ANCESTOR HUNTING AT THE
MARKETS
One Saturday morning a couple of years ago,
in the interests of doing something ‘different’, I cajoled my sister and
daughter into visiting Collectorama, a collectables show advertised in our
local newspaper. We weren’t really sure
what to expect and it never entered my mind that the markets could play a role
in my family history research. Upon
arrival, we were surprised at the size and scope of the show and spent a
fascinating morning wandering the stalls that were laden with vintage jewelry,
heirloom china, colourful carnival glass, lacy doilies, rusted tools, toys,
books and more.
The item that most captured my attention, however,
was an aged, but intact, photo album dating, I estimate, from the mid-to-late
1800s. It had heavy covers and thick cardboard pages with cutouts into which
photos could be inserted. The album was
filled with dozens of well-preserved carte-de-visites, many of them bearing
photographer’s imprints from Huddersfield (Yorkshire, United Kingdom). I spent a long time flipping the pages and
chatting to the stallholder about its origins - as someone whose most cherished possessions
include old family photographs, I was affronted at the thought of someone casting
off such a treasure trove of ancestors.
I was even more alarmed by the fact that the stallholder knew the
gentleman it belonged to, a man named Brown who lived locally. My family historian’s ‘radar’ was buzzing
and I debated long and hard whether I could justify spending the $80 asking
price to protect this album from falling into the ‘wrong hands’ (just whose these
would be I’m not sure). Having been
raised to be frugal and not make frivolous purchases, I walked away without the
album – it seemed highly indulgent to spend that much money on someone else’s
family history. But the memory of it
stayed with me….
Not long afterwards, I began researching my
Dow family, a maternal branch of my family tree that I had not previously
explored. Imagine my dismay when I
discovered that my great-great-grandmother was Martha Ann Brown of
Huddersfield, Yorkshire. Admittedly,
Brown is a common surname and I have no evidence of any of “our” Browns ever
coming to Australia; nonetheless I was kicking myself for not having bought the
album and resolved to do so at the next Collectorama if it was still for sale.
On our return visit to Collectorama,
although I found browsing the stalls equally enjoyable, I was somewhat distracted
by my quest for ‘The Album’. Nearing the
end of our visit, not having found it (we have since discovered that each show
features a varying range of stallholders), I was feeling a bit deflated and was
standing idly by a stall while my sister and daughter engaged in a long
discussion regarding some intriguing object.
To pass the time, I began flipping through an old cigar box filled with
postcards. Why? I have no idea. I had (and I use past tense on purpose) no
particular interest in old postcards or in cigar boxes. Midway down the stack was a postcard lying address
side up. My eye was immediately drawn to
the name of the addressee – Dow, the name I had most recently been researching. Probably just a coincidence. Regardless, I looked more closely and noted
the town of address was Maryborough (Queensland). Our
Dows were from Maryborough! My interest decidedly piqued, I checked the
street – Queen Street. That’s where “our” Dows lived. Trying to contain my excitement, I scanned
back to the name – Miss E F Dow – my very own great-aunt Eva. This was a postcard actually sent to my ancestor over 100 years ago.
Needless to say, I was completely
dumbfounded and really didn’t know quite how to react to this amazing discovery. So I held on tightly to the postcard, tried to
remain calm, and began carefully sorting through the remainder of the items in
the box. The other postcards had been
removed from an album and had brown paper stuck to the back and did not appear
to have been written on. But towards the
bottom of the box were two photographs, both in pristine condition. One featured two young ladies attired in
matching dresses and pearl chokers.
These girls were unmistakably my great-grandmother Francia Dow (whose
romance with her future husband Fred McKinlay was featured in Issue #4 of
Inside History) and her sister Eva Faenza as teenagers. The photographer’s imprint “A. R. Fosbrooke,
Maryborough” provided additional support for my belief that this photo was of
our family members. The other photo, a
portrait of a handsome young man, was taken at The Royal Studio, Belfast
(Ireland). With no known Irish
connection in this branch of the family, I could not readily discern any family
connection to this gentleman. The only
other items in the box were a couple of old pieces of correspondence relating
to the Mosman Cricket Club, which I (possibly foolishly) discounted as of no
relevance to our family.
Barely able to contain my jubilance, I
inquired as to the price of photo and postcard and was told $2.00 per
item. Fearing the price would go up if I
revealed the value of the items to me personally, I paid first and told the
stallholder the story second. She was
disappointingly unenthused by our amazing tale but did manage to capitalize on
our good fortune by convincing me to buy the photo of the Irishman ‘just in case’. It
was only later that I really began to ponder on just how these items had ended
up on a market stall and to whom they had been important enough to keep safely
for over 100 years. I was able to
contact the stallholders to see if they could recall anything – discouragingly,
they had little information to provide other than ‘most likely a garage sale on
the northside’ (of Brisbane). But the
story doesn’t end there. We have continued to make regular visits to
Collectorama and, headed off one Saturday morning in May 2010. Had she still been alive, it would have been
my Granny Mavis (nee McKinlay) Davey’s 101st birthday. We had barely begun our tour of the stalls
when we found ourselves at the very same stall from which we had purchased the
photo and postcard twelve months earlier.
There, lying on the table, surrounded by other bulkier objects, was a
lone photo, featuring a girl in costume, dressed as Rule Brittania. I immediately recognized it as a picture that
hangs on my mother’s living room wall.
Almost incoherent with incredulity, I rang Mum, tripping over my words
as I asked her to describe some details of her picture to make sure I wasn’t
completely imagining it. I’m sure my
excited babbling was a source of great amusement to nearby shoppers. There was no doubt it was the same picture
and, this time, the stallholder gifted the photo to us.Although we had
previously believed the picture to be of Granny Mavis (whose birthday it was), this
discovery prompted us to study it more closely and we ultimately determined
that it is actually her mother, Francia, and was most likely taken around the
time of Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee in 1897. The Jubilee was widely celebrated in
Maryborough where Francia grew up and in honour of which Francia was awarded a
memorial scholarship[i]. Regardless, we were thrilled to have another
copy of this picture.
The chances of
finding (and recognizing) photos of your ancestors on a market stall are slim
and the chances of being this lucky twice, even slimmer.
My family assure me I have used up my
serendipity and should quit while I’m ahead but it’s only made me more
enthusiastic in my perusal of market stalls and more dogged in my examination
of postcards and photos. Someone kept
these photos safe for over 100 years – who knows what other stashes of family
photos may be lurking in the garages of strangers, just waiting for me to find
them. When it comes to family history, I’m learning never to say ‘never’.This article was first published as 'Lost, then found' in
Inside History Magazine, Sept-Oct 2011
[i] The Brisbane Courier, Tuesday 8 February 1898, p. 5
