findingphilblog

It’s three days into the massive Ancestry data dump known as the Probate Records collection and, of course, I’ve been spending every spare second searching the Venezias and Brescias.

I start with Francesco, and there’s no surprise there. The heart-stopping Last Will and Testament of Francesco Venezia I found almost a decade ago is now preserved forever online.

Re-reading it, I caught a sentence that I skipped over in the past. Francesco not only gave Severina money immediately, his will stipulated that the interest income from the kids’ equal shares be given to her annually until Mary, Phil and Joe all reached the age of 21. The form values the estate at $2,000 (the equivalent buying power of $46,000 today.) This information once again swings the needle on my feelings about Severina and her second husband, Mike Natale. In my mind, she didn’t have to jump into a marriage with a guy six months later. She, quite frankly, didn’t even have to die at such a young age. Oh, Severina. What happend to all that money Francesco worked so hard to leave you?

The executrix letters indicate Severina’s address as a PO Box in Pittock. Pittock. There it is again. Two years later, when she dies, her address is Enterprise Street, back in the old neighborhood of East Liberty. Did she go to live with Pasquale in the interim? Francesco’s address prior to being admitted to the hospital was Frankstown Avenue. Why would she have an address on virtually the other side of the city? It’s not easy to get from East Liberty to Pittock now. I can’t imagine it was easier in the early 20th century. The only explanation I can think of is that as Francesco realized he was in the final stages, he sent his family away. The only place they could go was to Pasquale, particularly if Antonio was the one who agreed to care for Francesco.

There are a few other collateral papers that I hadn’t seen before that provide a smidge of color

and context into Francesco’s will. The two witnesses, Carmine Passante and Salvatore Curto, submitted the will for probate on Sept. 10, 1915. Unlike some records in the collection, there is no indication of the personal property Francesco left behind. Man, I would have loved to have an actual list of things my great-grandparents owned.

I also wonder about these two men. Surely, they had to have been very close friends of my great-grandfather’s if he trusted them to carry out the important duty of legally executing his will. Jason and I had our wills done this summer, and let me tell you, it makes you seriously examine who you trust. It’s interesting that Francesco does not choose Antonio for any of these duties. He certainly isn’t asking the Brescia brothers. I also find it interesting, though I’m not sure how unusual, that Francesco makes his wife the executrix of his estate. This is five years before women even have the right to vote. He obviously trusted her beyond all others. How deeply she let him down, squandering his hard-earned cash on a shiftless and unworthy man.

After several unsuccessful serches in the Ohio probate records for the mysterious Ohio uncle, my thoughts turn to Mike Natale. OK, boss. You got our cash. What’d ya do with it?

No wills. But in turning back to my Shoebox’d record of the Mike Nataley in the Mayview Insane
Asylum, another new Ancestry feature points me to a stunning revelation. The new site more clearly links records that may be associated with people you’re searching — including those in the Shoebox purgatory. In this case, it’s a Death Record.

Same man. An Italian widow. Same birth year. A previous address in the same section of my family’s East Liberty neighborhood. The undertaker who took the body was located on Meadow Street, only a few blocks from Our Lady Help of Christians. A burial at Mount Carmel Cemetery. Cause of death? General paralysis of the insane. Secondary cause — sulpulus? What’s sulpulus?

A quick churn through Doctor Google and I’m slapping my hand over my mouth. Syphills. Oh my god. He went insane from syphills. Contracted on or about the time immediately adjacent to Severina’s pregnancy and death. That total bastard.

If this is really our Mike Natale (and I shudder to call him that), it explains so much. The stillborn baby. Possibly even the infection that killed Severina (though it’s possible it was just a general infection very common at the time.) It explains why he was likely abusive (the precursuor to the full-blown condition includes massive personality changes, violence and delusions of grandeur.) It explains why he left Mary, Phil and Joe twisting in the wind.

For the first time in a long time, Pasquale is starting to look like the slightly better man.

After spending a few minutes quietly fuming on my grandpa’s behalf, my thoughts to turn to Marion Drost, the female counterpart to Phil in the fire drama.

It takes some digging, but I prove that the Marion Baker I’ve found in the census records is indeed Marion Drost. Sadly, it takes her 24-year-old son’s death certificate to do it. Paul Stephen Baker, the son of Marion and Stephen, apparently drowned in the Allegheny River. He was a veteran of the Korean Conflict and still in service at the time of his death. My heart cracks open anew for poor Marion. I can’t tell if she had other children. I’ll be using my new subscription to Newspapers.com to see if this death made the news (I can’t imagine it wouldn’t) or if I can find an obit.

All these revelations once again have me thinking about the forces that have shaped my present reality. The only conclusion I can draw is that we’re freaking lucky, blessed or all of the above. Somebody, somewhere is watching out for us all.