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In search of my grandfather's past … and maybe a book deal

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PasqualeDCCaptureThis was in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette a few days ago.

I, of course, was intrigued by the appearance of Woodville, as that is the hospital where Pasquale died.

There’s a lot of political feeling around institutionalization, so we’re not debating that here. But what is sad is as these facilities are closed, there are many graves that are abandoned.

One never knows when the family history bug will bite, but one of the hardest things to hear as you research is “Oh! If you had come X years or months or days ago. We just threw it out/it got torn up/the place got demolished.” You kick yourself endlessly for not getting started sooner.

I reached out Sam Sirabella, the man mentioned in the article as possibly having information about Woodville. He did a record search for me and couldn’t find anything on Pasquale Brescia. As Father DeVille notes in the article, the site contains 1,064 graves. My great-uncle is very likely among them.

The article reminds me that I haven’t looked for Pasquale among the newly released PA death records. It doesn’t take me long to find him. There’s not much that I don’t already know here. I’ve got lots of other records confirming much of what’s there. But there are a few nuggets, the largest of which is that whomever wrote out this death certificate seemed much more inclined to accuracy. It now appears that Pasquale, Ottavio, Saverina and Cesare’s father was named Cesare Brescia. Their mother was Fillipina Oliva. Now there is consistency among the records for at least these two siblings. I feel comfortable updating my tree with the new information.

I also note there is a discrepancy of a day on Pasquale’s death date between the death certificate and the documents that left his money to the Venezia siblings and his brother Ottavio. I’m going to go with this record, since it the official state record.

I’m thinking the next time I head to Pittsburgh, I’ll see if my cousin Bryce, who was involved in a ghost-hunting group that explored Dixmont before it was torn down, wants to go for a visit. His group was featured on Scariest Places on Earth on ABC Family a few years back. Here’s his episode of if you want to check it out!

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Collecting evidence

The more deeplyReadingEagleCapture I go into this story, the more I see how important it was. This clip is from the Reading Eagle, a newspaper that publishes in the suburbs between Harrisburg and Philadelphia. News of the fire made it all the way out here.

I’ve spent hours on the Google news archive.

The fire took place Dec. 13, 1922 in Mount Troy, Reserve Township.

Pittsburgh Press Dec. 14, 1922 edition: John and Cecilia’s burial. And here another revelation. There were more Drosts. Marion Drost, 16, Frank, 11, Joseph, 10, and Thomas, 7. There was a Coroner’s Inquest, which must mean there’s a record somewhere. I’ll give them a call on Monday and see how to access them.

Pittsburgh Press Dec. 16, 1922 edition: The headline says it all “Sordid Sensation Born of Tragedy at Brenckle Home.” Oh man. It looks like they’re starting to make the case to arrest Howard Lager on suspicion of starting the fire and on the accusations made by Marion Drost, Cecilia’s older sister.

We also meet a new cast of Allegheny County characters:

W.J. McGregor, the county coroner.

Samuel Triplett, the deputy county coroner.

County Detectives Joseph Dye, W.O. Alexander, Harry Barker and T.A. Sidenstricker.

Chief Probation Officer Walter Black. It looks like Walter had charge over the Drosts. What’s sad is that Marion and the rest of the kids (I presume Phil and Joe are among them) are sent to “the detention rooms.” Sounds ominous. And completely unfair. You’re essentially locking up the victim of a potential crime and all the witnesses. I’m enraged on their behalf.

Thomas Pfarr, the county fire marshal. The article quotes him as saying he believed the fire was set using gas.

Pittsburgh Press Dec. 17, 1922. It just keeps getting worse. Howard’s been arrested, and it looks like he has all but admitted to “relations” (shudder) with Marion. But he adamantly denies setting the house on fire. Marion’s apparently told the court that he’d abused her since she came to the farm three years ago. So, about 1919-1920. Hmmm. Makes me wonder if Phil and Joe were also there that long.

The next few days are silent on the case and it dawns on me that if Phil and Joe did indeed go to the detention rooms, they very likely spent Christmas there. My heart breaks for them all over again. How much more are these poor boys going to go through?

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Shocked

FrontPagePPressCaptureI’m still shaking.

I’m shocked. I’m stunned. And I am also now completely obsessed.

One of the last searches I did before bed the other night brought up a strand of information I’d never seen before. I found it using a variation of Phil’s name.

There was a fire. Remember how I’d said the old Brenckle farmhouse burned down? Well, let me tell you, there’s a whole lot more to it than that.

Because it seems during the same year Ottavio was seeking the trust for the siblings, Phil and his brother were embroiled in a scandalous, front-page saga  as Allegheny County investigated the cause of Brenckle farm fire.

Two children, apparently other wards of Allegheny County, died in the blaze. Grandpa and Joe had to take the stand and testify about what happened that night.

“Others who testified yesterday were Philip Venezia [hooray to the reporter who got his name spelled right], another ward of the court wards who made his home with the Brenckles. Philip said that after the fire had started, he saw John, the child whose body afterwards was found in the ruins of the house, with the other children. No one though saw Cecilia at any time.

Philip told how Lager had helped the children from the house. Joseph Venezia, another court ward, also living with the Brenckles, gave about the same testimony as his brother Philip about seeing John after the fire started. The supposition is that John went back into the burning house and could not get out. Lager is being held without bail.”

Cecilia is Cecilia Drost, 13, and John is John Orlowski, 9. Both of them were wards of Allegheny County, just as Phil and Joe were. Lager is Howard Lager, Myrtle’s brother, who apparently lived at the farm, too. From what I gather from other articles, it seems that Howard was suspected of not only starting the fire, but of starting it to cover up the fact he was sexually abusing Cecilia.

Their death was enough to raise serious questions about how the Juvenile Court was overseeing its wards (terminology at the time for foster children). So much so that the Press wrote a strongly-worded editorial condemning them and the practice of “farming out.”

The whole thing leaves me feeling sick. Sick, too, because more than 80 years later, nothing’s changed. Kids still die and get abused by the people the state says should take care of them.

I’ve been on the phone with my parents on and off all day as I uncover a new article. My dad is as shocked as I am.

“Never,” he said. “I never, ever heard about this. Neither did Mary Ann. I called her to ask. This is incredible.”

It seems, from what I found so far, no charges were leveled in the blaze. I haven’t found anything on whether Howard Lager was convicted of sexual assault or similar charges.

Even with the news articles, there are so many unanswered questions. Looks like I have a new mystery.

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Well, that took a while

ProducestrikeCaptureOK, so four years’ hiatus wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I last posted.

Buuuut, there’s been some major upheavals. Most of them pretty darn good. I moved back to the Harrisburg area and got a job with the main newspaper here, the Patriot-News. Jason got a job at the Sentinel in Carlisle. And oh yeah. We got married. 🙂

On the downside, my dad was seriously ill last year and hospitalized for some time. His being sick made me glad I’d done so much work on the family history. But it also made me realize that there was so much more to uncover.

I’d filled in the big blanks, but I want them all. Or, at least as many as I can.

Which is why, home alone tonight while Jason was on night shift, I started googling. I suppose February always gets me thinking about Grandpa. The anniversary of his death is this week. And with so many stones still unturned, I figured poking around wouldn’t hurt.

It’s not much, but it was so cool. Google has this amazing project where they’re scanning in old newspapers and you can search them. So, instead of microfiching it for hours, you can just google.

This is a news article about a produce strike in 1945. It was taking place in Pittsburgh right around the time my dad was born, actually. And Grandpa’s quoted because he was the only guy who’d thought ahead and ordered enough to get the store (Donahoe’s) through Tuesday.

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Memorialized

The thing that’s always drawn me to newspapers is the sense of immortality. A hundred years from now, whether accidentally or on purpose, someone looking for information will find it, and find my name. Maybe they will like what they read. Maybe they will think it’s trite and old-fashioned. Either way, it’s part of history and, if there’s another girl, far into the future, searching for her roots, maybe something I wrote can help.

Which is why it means the world to me that my paper published the article based on my research. You can find the link here. I love what they did with the cover, using Grandpa’s picture. I grabbed a bunch of copies to send to Mom and Dad, give to Mary Ann, Arnetta — lots of folks.

Like the article says, I’ve learned so much in all these months researching. I feel I know so much more about Grandpa himself. I’ve learned about judgement and luck. About the things that should break you and don’t. About the power of humor, and family, and how this city, my city, can shelter and shun. I guess you could say I’ve learned a little more about what it means to be human.

And I’m not done. All of this has convinced me I need to write a book. And it has to be about Grandpa’s life. There’s one story in all of us. That’s what Harper Lee always said, right? This one’s mine.

So, I’ll search on and see where this tale takes me.

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