An April First Birthday

April First has always had a special significance for me, as it happens to be my father's birthday.  He often makes light of being born on "April Fools Day," though if we look to the historic significance of the day, it really isn't all that foolish, just a tad amusing.

The origin of April Fools day is mysterious and disputed.  While the most common belief tells us that it has some connection to archaic New Year's Day celebrations, April 1st was never the first day of the year for anybody.  March 25th was the first of the year for much of Europe during the Middle Ages, and for England until 1752.  The most common connection made to April First and the antiquated New Year is the custom of some French communities that celebrated New Year's week, ending the festival on April 1st.  Maybe it's just easier for people to "round up" to the first day of the next month, rather than call it March Fools Day on the 25th, or perhaps there is a totally unrelated explanation that has been forgotten in the annals of history.

Getting back to my father's birthday, he is 66 years old today, and if asked he'll tell you that he refuses to be called a "senior citizen."  If he's in good spirits, he'll joke that he "graduated a long time ago," using a play on words about the whole senior thing.  If he's in a sour mood, he'll throw in an expletive.

Anyway, 25 years ago, my grandfather Ray Ingham sent my father the following birthday card in the mail.  It is a hand-drawn postcard, something that I found kicking around a while back.  It was wrinkled and forgotten, but I managed to get a sharp scan of it, and preserved this one of a kind item created by my now deceased paternal grandfather.  So, here's another little piece of family history.

Edward Stebbins Ingham

Over the past few days, I've had the chance to acquire a few fresh documents pertaining to my adopted great-grandfather.  Being one of the few relatives I actually had the chance to meet and talk to (albeit when I was very young), I'm always interested to learn more about the man and add it to the growing pile of family data.  I'll share a little of that knowledge here, and hopefully it will be of interest to some of you.

"Ned" was born on July 2, 1896, the son of John Albertson Ingham & Mary Bartlett Stebbins.  His father was the pastor of the Irvington Presbyterian Church in Irvington, New York, and later at the Second Reformed Church in New Brunswick, New Jersey.  Ned therefore came from a strong, Christian background. His ancestors were almost entirely of English origin, with a few Dutch genes thrown in for good measure.



Edward Stebbins Ingham
Circa 1917



Ned graduated from Rutgers College in 1916 with a Bachelor of Arts degree.  From there, he worked as an insurance salesman for Connecticut Mutual, until WWI called him to action.  Unable to qualify for the regular U.S. Army due to "poor eyesight," he signed up with the American Ambulance Corps, and later transferred into the French Army.  Serving with the French was a defining moment of his life, and he made many pilgrimages back to France later on during his lifetime.

Moving ahead to 1926, Ned married my great-grandmother, Effie K. Robinson, in Hillsborough, Florida.  They honeymooned in Cuba, which at the time was a prime tourist destination (and it still would be, if not for those dirty commies!).  After their honeymoon, they settled into life on Charevloiy Avenue in Detroit, and in the following few years he officially adopted my grandfather Ray, giving him the Ingham name.

During the roaring twenties, Ned made a literal fortune, and on Black Friday he was worth two million dollars on paper.  He lost ever cent of it in the crash, but that didn't make him give up or jump out a window, as some other hard-hit investors of the day did.  Instead, he packed his bags on Monday morning and went out to get a new job.  While never wealthy again, he always made a decent living after that.  He was a very talented salesman, or as one relative once told me, "He could sell iceboxes to Eskimos."



Ned Ingham on his 92nd Birthday
July 2, 1988



I had the chance to meet Ned in 1985, when he came up to Maine with Grandpa Ray.  During the trip we toured around Washington County and saw many of the sights.  However, when it came time to go to Canada and see the Roosevelt Museum on Campobello Island, Ned would not go.  He refused to visit the "Roosevelt Shrine," as he was a lifelong Republican and he abhorred Franklin Delano Roosevelt.  However, his dislike was not purely political, as he'd actually known the man.  During World War II, Ned served on the Rubber Production Board, and attended regular meetings with the President to discuss wartime matters.  During these meetings, he gained a general dislike for Roosevelt on a personal level, which stuck with him for the rest of his life.

Of course, Grandpa Ray was a lifelong Democrat (as were my parents at the time), so we went along to visit Campobello without Ned, though today I would much rather have spent a few more hours with a remarkable man, to hear an old story or two.  FDR's vacation home is still there to visit, and will be in perpetuity, but the same cannot be said for Ned, who passed away on July 5, 1991.  He celebrated his 95th birthday, and toward the end of the party he excused himself, saying he was feeling a bit tired.  He went to lie down, and passed away quietly with class.  He was still fit and able up until the end, without the major infirmities that often plague people of advancing years.

So, here's to Ned Ingham, a red blooded American who truly exemplified the spirit of his generation.  He understood the rights and responsibilities of a free man, and also knew how to enjoy himself in moderation.

Before I go, let me leave you with a mildly amusing story of my own research into Ned's life.  The other day, as I was picking through online documents, I found his 1917 Passport Application, and along with it was a photograph that I quickly realized was not his.  I looked at the thing and said, "Who's this? That's not Ned.  It looks more like John Panozzo of Styx!"  As it turns out, the photographs of the passports are stuck on the back side of the applications, so Ned's picture was actually with the subsequent application on the following page.  Remember this if you're ever picking through passport applications on Ancestry's site.  Your ancestor might not look like the attached photo for good reason.

Photo of "Ruth Joslin"
incorrectly paired with
Edward Stebbins Ingham's 1917
passport application.

John Panozzo
Drummer for "Styx"

Vacation Destinations

Yes, it is Sunday, and yes this is a Family Sunday posting.  In my continuing ancestral research, numerous locations pop up, places where different branches of my family originally settled, or called home in the past centuries.  It is my hope to visit a few of these someday, but at the moment it is fairly impossible for me to get away.  Perhaps future years and fortune will give me the opportunity.

Today, I'll share a few of the places I'd like to visit at some point.  Mind you, these aren't liable to be hot tourist destinations, and are only interesting to me because of my familial ties.

Bridgeton, New Jersey:  Really, all of Cumberland County would be on the tour, but Bridgeton is the center of it all.  Hendersons, Ballingers, Robinsons, and other assorted ancestors came from this area, and it would be interesting to have a look around.

Baldwin City, Kansas:  Home of the Counts family.  My great grandfather, George Sylvester Counts, was born and raised with three brothers and two sisters on a farm outside of town, and it would be interesting to drop by for a visit.  I know there have been a few "cousin reunions" held at the old homestead, though I've never had the pleasure of an invitation.  Maybe someday I'll get out there, reunion or otherwise.

Old Saybrook, Connecticut:  It was here that Joseph Ingham the weaver first settled in America around 1640.

Cato, New York:  Another site of Ingham interest, this is where William Ingham set up shop around 1814, and he made a fortune running a general store.  Later on, his sons overextended themselves and lost pretty much everything.  William's youngest son, Albert, was the grandfather of my adopted great-grandfather.

Hagerstown, Maryland:  It was here that the Forthmans first settled in America before the Civil War.  My great-grandfather, William Edward Forthman, was born here in 1863.  His mother, Ann Creager, was also from Hagerstown, and her ancestors settled there before the Revolution.

There are plenty of other locations of note in my family, though these are a few that stand out the most.  It may be little more than a daydream to think of visiting these distant towns and cities, though perhaps I'll go one day.  Only, what ever will I find when I get there?

A Rare Clan

There are many different groups within my family heritage.  Some are enormous, with hundreds of descendants, and others have faded into obscurity.  There are a lot of people with blood ties to me, though as time goes by, surnames end up being supplanted.  For example, the Kirton Clan (originating from Richard Kirton born circa 1830), has all but died out, while the Counts family (from Jacob Counts, Sr., 1738) has hundreds (perhaps even thousands) of descendants, many of whom still share the Counts name.

While I can claim the heritage of Counts, Kirton, Ballinger, Forthman, etc..., my own surname is one of unique interest.  As I've previously discussed, the "Ingham" name in my family actually comes from adoption, as my grandfather was a MacCain by blood.  This sets us up as something of a clan of our own; the MacCain-Inghams.  At last count, there were 13 people that I know of who can claim to be part of this special sub-clan (not counting spouses), and it seems my sons will be the only ones to carry on the surname (unless my father's young half-brother has a sudden lifestyle change, that is).  I say "sons" plural because I hope to have more than one someday.  My heirs should be many, and I hope some of them will manage to carry on the patriarchal line.

I always felt a certain responsibility to carry on the family line.  Growing up, I was always aware of how uncommon my surname was, and it seemed a great shame to let it die out.  It was certainly a determining factor when it came to certain choices, as there were some risks I never took because this thought was in the back of my mind:  I could not get myself killed without heirs, especially a male one.  I don't know if that makes me old-fashioned or vain, but it's an important part of my overall existence; the desire to perpetuate "The Clan."

This kind of family pride is something a lot of people have cast aside these days, as dysfunctional households and a decadent society often raise children to disregard their heritage.  My upbringing may have been dysfunctional, but I was still taught the importance of family, and therefore have a great reverence for my roots.

Who will continue your family clan when you are gone?

MacCain!

I have a startling confession to make. I am not technically an Ingham. Now, that isn't to say my real surname isn't Ingham, but genetically my lineage does not appear to extend back to anyone of that name.

My grandfather took his stepfather's last name, which was obviously Ingham. However, my great-grandfather by blood was Raymond W. MacCain. Now, I haven't been able to find out much about the MacCain line. Other than a few names and places, all that I really know is that my great-grandmother Effie divorced Raymond sometime in the early 1920's, for what reasons I can only imagine.

Both my father and grandfather were alcoholics, and my grandfather was very much a womanizer in his youth. I must wonder if Raymond W. MacCain, Sr. was much different than Ray Junior. If so, I must consider that MacCain men may have a predisposition toward being drunken whore-chasers. If there is a genetic link to such behavior, my own blood has been sufficiently thinned to avoid such predilections (or maybe I'm just a rebel at heart). I currently don't have enough background on the MacCains to tell.

I've written to a few MacCain cousins that I've been able to identify through my research, though none have gotten back to me. Obviously, 2nd and 3rd cousins aren't much to speak of, and I can understand their desire to remove themselves from the extended family line. There's no telling what kind of weirdoes your relatives might be. Why, they might even turn out to be me!

Despite being a MacCain by blood, I still consider myself to be an Ingham. My great grandfather was very much a true relative, if not by blood, then by spirit. I only had the chance to meet Great-Grandpa Ned once, when I was 5 years old, but what I remember of the man is someone who was every bit family as any genetic progenitor.

Who knows, maybe I'll find an Ingham somewhere in my bloodline. There are still many branches that remain unmapped.

The Ingham Line

In my genealogical research, I'm happy to report that I've succeeded in uncovering some data about Albert Ingham, my great-great-great grandfather.  Just in case anyone's interested in it, I'll post this data here.

Albert Ingham was the son of William Ingham and his third wife, Abby Dodge. William was the son of Erastus Ingham and Elizabeth Hutchinson. William was born in Connecticut, but moved with his parents to Massachusetts sometime after the Revolution.

William first married Betsey Smith on March 3, 1806 in Middlefield, Massachusetts. They moved away from Massachusetts sometime around 1815 with their two children, Betsy Maria and William Smith Ingham, and eventually settled in Cato, New York, where they both spent the rest of their lives.  They had at least 1 more daughter born in the early 1820, and several children who died very young.  They also had a son named Albert Hoyt Ingham (born in 1824), who died at approximately 3 years of age.  This Albert must not be confused with my ancestor, who was born after the fact and was obviously named after his dead brother.

Betsey died in 1826, after which William married Myrilla Phelps, who then died in 1827. Shortly thereafter, William married Abby Dodge, who gave birth to Albert Ingham on December 8, 1828.

William Ingham died in 1832. His widow, Abby, lived until 1883.

Albert's wife was Cynthia Van Wie. I had previously suspected this may be her last name, because one of her grandsons was Albert Van Wie Ingham. He was apparently named in honor of his grandparents.  Cynthia's parents may have been Abraham Van Wie and Lorinda Beebe, though I have yet to find conclusive evidence to that effect.  Records for upstate New York in the early 1800's can be hard to find.

The graves of Albert, Cynthia, William, Betsey, Abby, Myrilla, and William Smith Ingham can all be found in the Meridian Cemetary on the outskirts of Cato, New York.
 
Identifying William as Albert's father has opened up a larger family line, leading all the way back to Joseph Ingham who arrived in Saybrook, Connecticut sometime in the mid 1600's.  There is a lot of information to pick through, and I'm going to get back to it.