Irish in Spain (XIII): Two C18th O'Brien Baptisms in La Coruña

At La Coruña's parish of San Jorge on 4 May 1745, the baptism of Elena Mónica María Luisa O'Brien took place. Her parents were Don Luís O'Brien and his wife Doña María Geraldino. The infant's godparents were Don Pedro Estafort and Doña Elena Estafort, (Stafford, I presume) both unmarried and residents of La Coruña's parish of San Nicolás.

This couple also had at least one more child baptised at the same church: a daughter, María Tomasa Catalina, christened on 7 March 1748. Her godparent was one Don Tomás Geynan, resident of El Puerto de Santa María (Cádiz).

SOURCES: Diocesan Archive of Santiago de Compostela, Baptisms of San Jorge in the city of La Coruña: register 1733-1747, P. 421V and 1747-1760, P. 32V

Genealogical Oddities (LXIII): A London Family's Child Baptised in C19th Asturias, Spain

At Mieres on 18th Feb 1847 was baptised Diego Ricardo, born 27th January preceding, legitimate son of Don Diego Williams and Doña Carlota Dove, residents of Oñón. Paternal grandparents Don Gabriel Williams and Doña Isabel Richards, stated to be natives of Lambeth, like the infant's father: maternal grandparents Juan Dove and Carlota Martin, parishioners - like the mother - of St Bride's Church, London.

Everyone in this record was accorded the polite form of address, Don/Doña. Their names are given in Spanish; in English they would be, I believe, James Richard Williams, James Williams, Charlotte Dove, Gabriel Williams, Elizabeth Richards, John Dove and Charlotte Martin.

Familysearch shows what seems to be the marriage of this couple: on 10 May 1843 at St Andrew's, Holborn, James Richard Williams, then aged 25, married Charlotte Dove, also aged 25.

James' presence in Mieres probably had something to do with the Asturian Mining Company, established in 1844. I wonder if the younger James has descendants and if they are aware of his 'Spanish origin'?

SOURCE: Archivo Histórico Diocesano de Oviedo, Mieres-San Juan Bautista, Baptisms 1839-1851

Curiosidades Genealógicas (LXII) - Un soldado aragonés en Galicia en 1820

En la parroquia de Santa María de Betanzos el 6 de mayo de 1820 Rafael Ferruz, Sargento Graduado del Regimiento de Voluntarios de Aragón, hijo de Antonio y de su mujer Rafaela Badules, vecinos de Cariñena; casó con Andrea da Pena y Cortes, hija de Vicente y Juana, vecinos ésta.

Habiendo trabajado ya durante muchos años con registros sacramentales de Aragón (y de Galicia), el apellido Ferruz en el márgen enseguida me llamó la atención al estar pasando páginas de un libro de Betanzos; incluso antes de leerme el asiento, pensaba que el novio sería aragonés.

FUENTE: Parroquia de Santa María de Betanzos, Matrimonios 1782-1835, Arquivo Histórico Diocesano de Santiago de Compostela

Irish in Spain (XII): Some Irish Marriages in C18th Sanlúcar de Barrameda

Until recently I was unaware that Sanlúcar de Barrameda was among the Spanish localities that hosted large Irish expatriate colonies in the early 1700s. I spotted the following entries in the course of some recent work in its parish registers:

Marriages 1715-1724:
P. 9V, 10 Dec 1715: Pedro Eston, native of the city of 'Dublino' in Ireland, son of Juan Eston and María Thaf, to Doña Catalina Narcisa de Ávila, widow of Bartolomé Álvarez, resident of this city.

P. 231, 31 May 1722: Don Ricardo Nugent native of Dublin, son of Don Thomas Nugent and Doña Isabel Nugent; to Dª Francisca Ortiz Marujan, legitimate daughter of Don Luis Jose Ortiz & Dª Andrea Marujan Contreras, natives and residents of this place.

Marriages 1724-1732
P. 143, 9 Aug 1728 Patricio Walsh legitimate son of Thomas Walsh & Margarita Walsh, to Catalina Fare d. of Gerardo Fare + Catalina Guarde natives of Ireland and residents of this city. Witnesses P. Fr. Carlos French of the Orden de Predicadores and Don Pedro Pichardo.

P. 211, 19 Jul 1730 Don Patricio French native of the city of 'Galbia' in Ireland, legitimate son of Don Gerónimo French & Doña Susana Ormsby; to Doña Mariana Croquer Daughter of Don Juan Ignacio Croquer y Luisa Alvarez, native and both residents of this place.

P. 116, 28 Aug 1727 Diego Esmith, son of Thomas Esmith and of Cathalina Brum, to Margarita Lorenza, daughter of Guillermo Lorenzo and of Ana Guinsi, native of the city of Dublin and all residents of this place. Witnesses Don Carlos French and Don Juan Grove, both Irish, clergymen.

Possible names and surnames intended by some of the above entries include: Easton, Farrell or Farrill, Ward, Smith, Lawrence (Guillermo Lorenzo = William Lawrence), Quincy or Quincey (Ana Guinsi = Anne Quincey). Galbia is, I presume, Galway.

SOURCE: Diocesan Archive of Asidonia-Jerez, Parish Records of Sanlúcar de Barrameda, Marriage Registers 20 and 21.

Malaga Registry Office Automates Its Delivery of... Rejection Letters to Genealogists

With so many civil servants having gone out of their way to keep providing citizens with government services during the pandemic, those who are letting down the side are even more conspicuous in their dereliction.

In the unsettling days of the second half of March 2020, no less, I still received a birth record posted on the 16th of the month, from a registry office in Asturias to which I had sent the request a few days before the entire country was put on lockdown. I fondly remember the small ray of hope its delivery represented amidst so much uncertainty.

And then there are... the others. I'm well aware that in many places, especially large cities, Civil Registry office staff were overwhelmed by the avalanche of recording duties the swelling death toll imposed upon them; in other cases, government agencies simply shut down altogether (I know of a certain office under the Ministry of Justice that only issued documents on one single day between mid-March 2020 and well into June). Almost simultaneously with the request mentioned above, on 10 March I requested a death certificate from the Civil Registry in Malaga city, providing the name and surname of the deceased and the exact date of his death; all from a source of the utmost credibility, his military pension file, the deceased having been an officer. I naïvely assumed that the "New Normal" trumpeted by the government as beginning 21 June would extended to all branches of the civil service and that I would in due course receive the certificate.

What I received at the end of July 2020 was a photocopied form letter summarily dismissing my request. The letter itself is a poorly written hotchpotch of negatives, in the spirit of piling one refusal on top of another, and implies that Judge María Dolores Moreno-Torres Sánchez ordered the Registry not to process any requests 'for genealogical purposes' at all, until further notice. OK, I thought, "new normal" will take a little longer to reach some areas than others. I shuffled this request on to the back burner, more waves of the pandemic came and went, and this April with the end of Spain's State of Emergency in sight - at least, in name - I came to the ridiculous conclusion that a further 9 months' gestation may finally have seen the Civil Registry of Malaga fit to send forth the requested certificate.

Wrong. Another request, another lightning-speed rejection, with an almost identical letter, but one which now makes it clear that they don't even bother to evaluate these requests, since I did NOT ask for a birth certificate (as their letter states) but rather a death certificate, I did NOT tell them why I was requesting it, and I did NOT lack sufficient details for the record to be located. Yet on the mere suspicion that the request may be for genealogical purposes, up pops their rejection form letter, as if incoming requests and outgoing rejections cross in some grotesque revolving door of bureaucratic disdain. Until when?

Given that the Order cited in their letter suggests that requests of this agency are not being evaluated on their individual merits but rather dismissed outright upon receipt, I might wonder if this could constitute prevarication; I'd hate to think it's something even worse, using the pandemic's dead as an excuse not to work.

Genealogical Oddities (LXI): Englishman John Berman's 1770 Málaga Marriage

At Málaga's church of San Juan on 20 August 1770, Juan Berman, native of the town of Castar or Castur 'in the Kingdom of England, having joined our Holy Mother Church', the son of Francisco Berman and María Berman, was married to María Ana de Arenas, daughter of Francisco de Arenas and Teresa García, natives of Málaga.

I assume the English family's original names would have been John Berman, Francis Berman and Mary _____ ; Castor near Peterborough seems one possible place of origin for them, though there may be others.

SOURCE: Archivo Histórico Diocesano de Málaga, parish of San Juan, Marriages 1769-1780 (Legajo 462), P. 35 v.

Why I'm not arranging any research travel in 2021

Short answer: I don't like boxing with one hand tied behind my back. I am still happy to discuss possible commissions not requiring travel, but my overnight bag will remain on the shelf this year.

Long answer: let's look at an actual case I worked on in January 2020, just before everything went wrong. I flew across Spain for 2 days - up to 8 hours - of family history research at a Diocesan Archive. 2 hours into the records, something was wrong: my client's family just did not come from the parish they had indicated. Not their line, not a sibling, not even a possible match with garbled surname order - nothing. A quick search in the online catalogue of another archive nearby yielded some possible clues: a State archive, it held wills and land records. It was only half an hour away and opened afternoons, so that afternoon I went over and requested a few of the records in their database, found the problem, then returned to the Diocesan Archive the next morning, requested the books of the correct parish, and successfully completed the research.

Under current restrictions this would be impossible.

* Even if the first archive were open - a big if, at this point in time - social distancing regulations require it to operate at 50% capacity, meaning that if before 10 researchers gained access in a day, now it is only 5.
* I would have had to request the appointment weeks or months ahead of time, and would probably not have been given one for a second consecutive day, as the backlog and waiting list are so long.
* Even if I had, I probably would not have been able to 'pivot' to the second Archive that afternoon, because I wouldn't have had an appointment for it.
* In any event, most Spanish archives now require researchers to request in advance the specific records that will be used, because after use, registers and bundles are quarantined for anywhere from 7 to 14 days before the next researcher is allowed to touch them. So I probably would not have been able to work with any records at the second archive, but even if I had, I still probably would not have been able to do anything on the second day of research, my focus having shifted to a different parish for which I had not requested the records in advance.

Covid-19 restrictions save lives, but they also strangle researchers' ability to improvise, a reactive ability essential in a country with so little item-level cataloguing of archival records and relatively few surname-indexed databases. Make no mistake, more will be learned from research trips conducted under normal circumstances than from 99% of projects undertaken under current restrictions.

I was able to complete a few travel-based assignments successfully from June 2020 right into this year, but once the cautious hope of 'New Normal' in Summer 2020 gave way to a second and then a third wave of the pandemic, most of the requests I received could be quickly dismissed via a filter consisting of 'Is this open? No.' Credible reports now suggest Spain will not reach 'herd immunity' before about November 2021, and as archives are not an essential service, my impression is that for the most part they will be among the very last venues in Spain to return to a pre-pandemic footing. There is simply no sense of urgency to providing access.

Rather than research with one hand tied behind my back, as it were, I feel it is more sensible to wait until the researcher's task is no worse than it used to be, when I can again use my nearly two decades of professional experience to their full effect on behalf of clients. In the interim I will continue handling ongoing commissions that can be completed remotely, such as previously commissioned probate research, concurrently with other professional undertaking. Feel free to contact me for a frank assessment as to whether a specific project can be set in motion remotely or is best shelved until 2022.

My Research on the Ancestry of Narciso Rodríguez for PBS' Finding Your Roots: plus a tip for beginners

I was thrilled to see the Fashion's Roots episode of Finding Your Roots finally broadcast this week. Profesionally 2020 has not been a year of memorable achievements so it was nice to revisit more favourable times!

I spent four exciting days last year in one of the most beautiful places in Spain, the island of Gran Canaria, researching the Canarian portion of Narciso Rodríguez' ancestry. The tools at my disposal across three different archives varied greatly, from digitised images of sacramental records and obscure books dealing with early history of the Canary Islands, to original C19th notarial records and C18th marriage cousinship dispensations.

I won't get into the details of eventual discoveries here (watch the episode, it's exciting!) but I want to use a single aspect of this research to illustrate a useful tip for beginning genealogists. After the first several hours I had developed the tree into three different towns - Arucas, Gáldar and Guía. The largest number of ancestors lived in Arucas, but work in its records was hampered by the fact that none of registers have indexes; some of the books are very long, and spending hours scrolling through pages is a genuine logistical issue when an archive is only open four hours a day. Added to that, if your interest is not merely in assembling names and dates, but developing some back story for these ancestors, a sameness of names can be daunting: too many Juan Rodríguez's, and records suggested there were as many as ten men named José Pérez in Arucas at the same time, which makes it very risky to try and match such common names with any 'interesting' stories in litigation or published works.

By contrast, when I spotted an ancestor surnamed Saavedra in Gáldar, she sort of stuck out. Amid a crowd of repetitive surnames - Suarez, several Morenos and a distressing profusion of lines of Rodriguez - she was the odd woman out, and it was by focusing on her that I was able to trace into ancestors with less frequent names, then some from a higher socio-economic status and finally back to the earliest ancestors discussed in this segment of the show.

Naturally, every researcher has different priorities, and one's goals may not be susceptible to prioritising based on logistics. But if, rather than tracing a specific line, your goal is to connect through any line with some sort of background story pertaining to remote ancestors, something memorable beyond simple dates, places and names, you could do worse than to remember: follow the 'weird' surname!

(Above: A panoramic shot of the Vegueta area of Las Palmas I took from atop the Cathedral one afternoon after completing research. Two of the archives where I worked are located in the square at bottom left of the photo.)

Curiosidades Genealógicas (LX): El paso por Aragón de una familia francesa que emigró a Argentina

Un Censo o Padrón del pueblo aragonés de Escatrón incluye a una familia francesa, con el dato curioso de que al parecer, siendo preguntado por el empadronador por el apellido materno, éste no entendió la pregunta y - por lo visto - ha dado los nombres completos de su madre y de su suegra.

En el citado hogar, aquel año 1857, encontramos a:

• D. Agustín Gorlier, Elisabet Perier · 34 · Sub-ingeniero de la Real Cª de Canalización del Ebro
• Dª Estrella Leroy, Cecilia Berton · 26
• Enrique Gorlier Leroy · 8
• Estrella Gorlier Leroy · 4

Una muy somera búsqueda en Familysearch revela que este Agustín Gorlier - cuyo nombre original era, me imagino, Augustin Gorlier, o incluso Henri Augustin Gorlier, según el documento que se consulte, emigró con su familia a Argentina. Estrella Gorlier Leroy, citada arriba, casó en 1876 en Río Cuarto (Córdoba) con Ignacio Caminal Comes; otro hijo de esta pareja, Carlos León Gorlier Leroy, nacido en París en 1855 y que por lo visto no acompañó a sus padres a Aragón, casó en el mismo Río Cuarto en 1882 con Carmen Slatter Lucero. En cuanto a Agustín, vivía aún en 1895 cuando aparece en el censo Argentino de ese año, trabajando como contador.

FUENTE: Archivo de la Diputación de Zaragoza, Censos Caja 1470, Escatrón, Página 3V

El Ministerio de Justicia y la DGRN dan un ejemplo de cómo lavarse las manos.

Termina abril, y no quiero dejar que lo haga sin señalar que ya se cumplen dos años - suma y sigue - de una de las farsas burocráticas más lamentables en que he tenido la desdicha de ser parte interesada en toda mi actividad profesional (que, francamente, no es decir poco). Ahora la administración pública nos da consejos diarios sobre cómo protegerse, pero ya hace mucho en la Dirección General de los Registros y del Notariado la consigna era lavarse las manos.

En la primavera de 2018 una cliente mía, una señora jubilada que reside en EE.UU., se interesó por poder ampliar algo su árbol genealógico, tarea hecha harto difícil por la quema de los libros sacramentales en la parroquia natal de su padre y sus ascendientes paternos. Ella ya tenía algunas actas de nacimiento, que obtuvo hace más de veinte años, y mi propuesta - basándome en mi experiencia con casos similares, era que examinaramos las actas de defunción del Registro Civil del citado municipio para sus primeros años - pongamos, 1872-1892 - para los apellidos de interés. Con las edades de los fallecidos y los nombres de sus padres, podríamos establecer los núcleos familiares que habían existido en aquella localidad entre unos 60 a 70 años antes, digamos entre 1800 y 1830. Como caso excepcional, el acta de defunción que encontré hace años en otro registro civil: al fallecer en 1872 un señor nacido en 1799, el entonces secretario consignó no sólo los padres del difunto sino - por su propria inexperiencia, era el primer año del Registro Civil como tal - también los abuelos del difunto, con lo cual ese acta de 1872 prácticamente nos llevaba hasta personas nacidas en los años 1750.

Creo que queda claro que el deseo de consultar estos tomos de difuntos se basa en consideraciones fundadas, derivadas de mi experiencia profesional. Contacté por teléfono a la Secretaria del Juzgado de Paz oportuno y me indicó que no tendría inconveniente en facilitarme el acceso a dichos tomos, siempre y cuando lo autorizara la Juez; al no tener ya la localidad de interés su proprio juez, debía dirigirme al Juzgado de Primera Instancia, del que dependía el registro de mi interés, y pedir la carta de autorización. Cosa que hice. Pasaron varias semanas sin respuesta, entonces empecé a llamar al citado juzgado. Finalmente me atendió una persona que se identificó como la secretaria de la juez en cuestión, y me dijo lo siguiente: que la juez había leído mi carta pero no había podido responderme porque en tanto que juez, "sólo puede firmar modelos de carta ya aprobados por el Ministerio de Justicia" y entre ellos no había ninguno para responder a consultas como la mía. Por lo mismo, al no existir tampoco un modelo de carta autorizando la consulta de libros del registro civil, tampoco me podía expedir carta semejante; pero me dijo que de todos modos no hacía falta puesto que los libros del registro civil son públicos y además tratándose de libros de difuntos de hace más de cien años, no había ningún supuesto de publicidad restringida... en fin, que llamara yo nuevamente a la Secretaria del Juzgado de Paz que me interesaba, y le dijera que la Juez había dicho que yo puedo consultar los libros.

Así hice pero la Secretaria se cerró en banda: sin permiso escrito de la juez, no hay consulta. También se negó ella a llamar por teléfono a la juez para verificar lo que yo le decía, o hablar con ella personalmente (su registro y el juzgado distan unos 17 kilómetros). Así las cosas, le dije que iba a interponer una queja con la Dirección General de los Registros y del Notariado, y ella me respondió con sorna "haga lo que quiera".

Pues bien, a estas alturas debo admitir que su sorna parece justificada. En julio de 2018 envié el debido alegato por Correo Administrativo a la Dirección General de los Registros y del Notariado, pidiéndoles que pongan orden entre estos dos empleados que, últimamente, dependen del mismo ministerio. Las dos no pueden tener razón: o bien hace falta un permiso judicial escrito para consultar los libros del Registro Civil, o no. Una u otra se equivoca, no hay punto medio. Esperé pacientemente un año, y entonces al interesarme por el avance de mi reclamación, cual fué mi sorpresa al descubrir que no constaba ni que la hubieran recibido. Estamos ya en julio de 2019. Formulo nuevamente la reclamación, ésta vez entregando en persona en el Registro General de Calle de la Bolsa una copia de mi escrito original, junto con otro explicando por qué lo estoy volviendo a presentar. Pasan 9 meses sin que la DGRN alumbre respuesta alguna, y entonces me ocurre la infeliz idea de llamar al teléfono de ¿atención? al público del Ministerio de Justicia. Tras marcar un buen puñado de veces sólo para oír una grabación antes de que me colgaran, por fin logré hablar con una persona, cuya idea brillante fue: que envíe un correo electrónico al Ministerio a través del formulario que hay en su página web, preguntando cómo anda el escrito que les entregué en mano nueve meses antes. Para más inri, al recibir la factura de teléfono me di cuenta de que el Ministerio de ¿Justicia? cobra por tales diversiones, siendo un número 902 (902007214), con lo cual estas llamadas además de suponer una pérdida total de mi tiempo, me costaron unos 11 euros. (Ni mucho ni poco, pero lanzarlos uno tras uno a una fuente y pedir un deseo hubiera sido más placentero, e igualmente eficaz.)

Así llegamos a dos años desde mi último contacto telefónico con la secretaria de la juez y

"¡Bienvenidos!"

la Secretaria del juzgado de paz. La DGRN se pone de lado y se niega a aclarar quien tiene razón en este absurdo desacuerdo entre dos funcionarios de una misma administración. Pareciera tarea fácil, tan fácil como señalar a una u otra parte y decir "tiene razón" pero no resuelven, es más, se aíslan: se esconden del público en general, de los contribuyentes, detrás de un teléfono donde básicamente cobran por mandar a hacer puñetas a quien llame, y de otras formas de comunicación - e-mail y escritos al Registro General - que al no ser presenciales pueden darse el lujo de no responder nunca. Su actitud hacia el infeliz usuario es fielmente representada por esta instantánea de la acogedor entrada a sus dependencias. Y sabiéndolo, quienes en teoría dependen de dicha Dirección General para poner orden pueden obcecarse en dar largas a quien quieran, confiando plenamente en la protección que les da la indiferencia y/o inoperatividad de la misma.

Supongo que quienes están detrás de todo esto riéndose del ingenuo que reclama pensarán que eventualmente nos cansaremos o nos moriremos de viejo esperando la respuesta que nunca viene. Por mi parte he querido dejar constancia de todo esto ahora, no sea que luego la administración le eche la culpa al Coronavirus cuando ya mucho antes su desprecio del usuario era vergonzante.

Identificando a una dama y su hijo en una foto madrileña del siglo XIX

(Pulsar para ampliar)

Una de mis aficiones es comprar en rastrillos y librerías de lance fotografías antiguas, cuanto más antiguas mejor, pero que lleven escritas suficiente información como para identificar a las personas retratadas. Es una tarea harto desagradecida, pues muy pocas veces alguien se molestaba en apuntar al dorso de la foto suficiente información como para facilitar esta labor. Qué falta hace, pensarían. ¡Cualquiera ve que esta foto es del tío Potenciano! Y pasan 100 años y, como mucho, se sabe eso: que el retratado se llamaba "Tío Potenciano", y entonces sólo si se molestó en dedicar la foto: "A mi querida sobrina Cunegunda, de tu tío Potenciano." La inmensa mayoría de fotos que ahora yacen abandonadas en comercios como los citados carecen de más información que la ciudad en que se hicieron. En un perfil de Instagram [https://www.instagram.com/spanishancestors/] he ido colocando algunos de ellos, aunque faltan muchos por la escasez del tiempo libre que debo repartir entre aficiones varias, algunas más amenas que otras.

Muy de vez en cuando aparece una pieza excepcional, que permite no sólo establecer la identidad de los retratados, sino hasta la fecha en que se retrataron. Veamos.

Ésta foto que adquirí hace algún tiempo un domingo en el madrileño Rastro lleva no sólo los nombres de los retratados, sino que en la parte de atrás se lee: "Se retrató el niño cuando tenía Isidorito tres meses y catorce días" y, más abajo, "dedicado a su abuela".

Suponiendo que la retratada y el bebé eran madre e hijo, una rápida búsqueda de Isidoro Castillejo Sanz efectuada (antes del confinamiento actual) en los fondos del Archivo de Villa en - aleatoriamente - el padrón de 1905, lleva a la hoja padronal número 93156, correspondiente a la Calle de San Dámaso Nº 8, cuarto segundo, con la cual podemos averiguar exactamente quienes eran los sujetos que nos ocupan:

NOMBRE	APELLIDO PATERNO	APELLIDO MATERNO	PARENTESCO con el cabeza de familia	FECHA Y LUGAR DE NACIMIENTO					ESTADO	PROFESIÓN, oficio u ocupación	OFICINA, fábrica, comercio, taller, etc,
				Día	Mes	Año	Pueblo	Provincia
Crispulo	Castillejo	Felipe	Cabª Familia	25	octubre	1849	Aldeanueva de Barbarroya	Toledo	C 2	Secretario judicial	Juzgado Municipal Dist.º de la Universidad
Marcelina	Sanz	de la Villa	esposa	26	april	1857	Madrid	Madrid	C	Sus labores
Félix	Castillejo	Velasco	hijo	20	noviembre	1873	Idem.	Idem.	S	Procurador	Tribunales, Madrid
Isidoro	Castillejo	Sanz	idem	24	febrero	1888	Idem.	Idem.	S	Estudiante	Universidad
Julián	Castillejo	Sanz	idem	2	septiembre	1889	Idem.	Idem.	S	Id.	Instituto del Cardenal Cisneros
Marcelina	Castillejo	Sanz	idem	2	julio	1897	Idem.	Idem.	S	Colegio
Higinia	del Pino	Tenorio	sobrina 2ª	11	enero	1887	Calera	Toledo	S	Sirvienta	La casa

Con estos datos, sabiendo la fecha de nacimiento del niño retratado, podemos decir que la foto se hizo, exactamente, el 7 de junio de 1888.

Dejo la tarea seguramente interesante de averiguar más peripecias vitales de la retratada, Marcelina Sanz de la Villa, natural de Madrid, y su hijo Isidoro, a quien pueda interesar. Y paso la foto a mi colección.

Genealogical Oddities (LIX): John Peters of Bristol in C19th La Coruña

On 16 July 1825 at La Coruña's parish of San Jorge took place the baptism of Juan Carlos Peters, born on the 3rd of that month, a son of Don Juan Peters native of Bristol in England, and Doña María Tellet (or Fellet) of London. The paternal grandparents were named as Juan and Juana Peters; maternal, José Tellet (or Fellet) and María Stillman.

I cannot find any reference to him in Galician records after this, so assume that John Charles Peters, if he grew to adulthood, did so at home, whether that was Bristol, London or somewhere else across the Bay of Biscay. The English forms of these names are fairly simple - John Peters, Joan or Jane Peters, and Mary Stillman, but I am still puzzled by what the priest intended when he wrote Tellet or Fellet.

SOURCE: Archivo Histórico Diocesano de Santiago de Compostela, parish of San Jorge (La Coruña), Baptisms 1823-1832, P. 129 verso.

Genealogical Oddities (LVIII): Thomas Fowler Did Not Expect The Spanish Inquisition

Who was Thomas Fowler, an English merchant active in Spain during the reign of King Carlos II? A 'Don Thomas Fauler', stated to be an Englishman residing in the city of Seville, granted a power of attorney in Madrid on 21 May 1680 before notary Felipe Antonio González de Montalvo (which instrument was witnessed by one Alejandro Tromorton, or Alexander Throgmorton). Fowler/Fauler was caught up in the Inquisition's prosecution of Antonio Lemos or Lemús, whose assets were confiscated as part of the Inquisition's prosecution of him. Our English friend owed Lemos 17,000 reales, which debt the Inquisition now wished to call in, sooner rather than later. Suddenly Fauler found himself not in the placid enjoyment of a debt to a Spanish merchant, but rather on the receiving end of legal actions from the Inquisition. How unexpected!

He may or may not have been the same man as a Thomas Fauler whose assets in the Canary Islands were confiscated in 1657, as part of Spanish reprisals against Oliver Cromwell for Commonwealth attacks on Spain. In any case, the Fauler of interest to is is indicated by the Inquisition proceedings to have been a resident of Antequera by 1683. Perhaps some record in the National Archives at Kew would reveal his origin? Is anyone across the Channel missing a Thomas from their extended Fowler family tree?

SOURCES: Archivo Histórico Nacional, Madrid: Inquisición,4680,9 · For the list of English merchants with assets confiscated in 1657, "Guerra Económica Y Comercio Europeo en España, 1624-1674. Las Grandes Represalias Y La Lucha Contra El Contrabando", Ángel Alloza Aparicio [In: Hispania, LXV/1, num. 219 (2005)]

Curiosidades Genealógicas (LVII): Matrimonios de Africanos en La Coruña, 1621

En el libro de bautizados que abarca 1607 a 1724 de Santa María de Oza (La Coruña) en el folio 43 hallamos el siguiente asiento: "Bauticé un hijo de Pedro de Austria africano Cristiano nuevo convertido que es entretenido y tiene plaça de su magestad en La Coruña y lo hubo de una moça que díjose que va a casar con ella que se llama Teresa Bartolomé [Tª Bme] gallega natural de Santa María de Loureda y lo bauticé a veinte y tres de febrero de mil y seiscientos y veinte y uno púsele nombre Pedro fueron padrinos Santiago Mínguez africano ansimesmo entretenido María de Nabarro biscayna mujer de Cristóbal de Austria africano.

Lope de Coiro, rector."

¿Qué harían estos africanos entretenidos en La Coruña? ¿Y con qué motivo se les conocía con el apellido de Austria?

FUENTE: Archivo Histórico Diocesano de Santiago de Compostela, Libro P009586.

Genealogical Oddities (LVI): A Swede in (17)70s Málaga

On the on the 26th of July 1779 at Málaga's parish of San Juan, Lorenzo Nicolás Wassberg, a native of Stockholm, legitimate son of "Don Nicolas Wassberg y Doña María Kansenstierna", married Doña Josefa Ferrari, native of Gibraltar, legitimate daughter of Don Francisco Ferrari and Doña Maria Facila. This entry was added to the marriage register in use three years later, for reasons not explained.

This entry amused me because as anyone who spent time on the Costa del Sol in the 1970s or early '80s will know, the groom was perhaps the earliest forerunner of a huge wave of Scandinavians who would settle there two centuries later. The priest who married him had probably never seen a Swedish name before. The groom's name at home was likely Lars Niklas Wassberg, or perhaps Lars Niklas Wessberg. His mother's surname could have been Lansenstierna, Glansenstierna, Kyulenstierna, Insenstierna, von Krusenstierna...? Perhaps a descendant of this match will emerge through Google to claim his or her Spanish connection! My thanks to Martin Sunnqvist for enlightening me as to the correct Swedish spelling of these names and possibilities.

SOURCE: Málaga Diocesan Archive, Records of Málaga city's parish of San Juan, Box 462, Marriages 1780-1785, P. 58

My Work on Mark Wright's Mendoza Ancestor for 'Who Do You Think You Are?' UK

I'm thrilled that I can finally share some details of an intense few weeks this past Spring squirrelling away in the shadows on the family history of Don Antonio de Mendoza. The resulting research was part of the story presented last night on the British edition of Who Do You Think You Are? 

In his ancestor's footsteps: Mark Wright (l.)

David Mendoza, who appears on screen in the programme, had uncovered much valuable information about his and Mark Wright's shared ancestor; my contribution was essentially to locate more records and to document minute, hitherto unknown details of Antonio's life. Antonio de Mendoza was a tough customer: his career as a fencing master and his later tenacity in getting around an inquisition-imposed travel ban to seek safety in Amsterdam already provided ample evidence of this, but I was thrilled to discover that earlier he had been a 'Guardia de Millones', a sort of armed revenue officer who protected tax money collected for the King. Most of his swashbuckling exploits are lost to us, but it surely speaks volumes how he stated that if forced upon release to remain in Seville unarmed, he would face retribution from a thug whose face he had once slashed in the course of fighting off a robbery, and who had sworn revenge! Also to Antonio's credit, he wasn't a snitch. During two years in an Inquisition dungeon, imprisoned and tortured, he never gave evidence against any of the associates and family members the Inquisitors pulled in after his arrest - as the Inquistion's civil servants noted in his case file, to their increasing frustration.
 

Mark Wright and his family were clearly touched by Antonio's story. As a genealogist their reaction delighted me, it's the most encouraging response to hours spent squinting at faded pages in poorly heated archives!

Antonio's tribulations will stay

A record bundle I used in this research

with me, among the more memorable cases on which I'veworked; as will the agony of certain other poor souls, contemporaries of his who suffered at the hands of the same loathsome Inquisitors. Two such items I came across among the many pages turned in search of Antonio were the sad tale of the Santander sisters, five young women imprisoned in Seville at the same time as Antonio, for practicing Judaism covertly, and whose only brother cracked during imprisonment and testified against them; and a memo, found among papers of the Madrid inquisition from 1680, noting that someone needed to be engaged to clean out the cage in which the condemned were being burned alive, as unburnt bones were accumulating among the ashed at the bottom. Once again, routine paperwork illustrating the banality of evil.

A C17th Crypto-Jewish Marriage in the Family of Isaac Orobio de Castro

On 11th November 1648 at the parish of San Lorenzo in the city of Jaén, a blessing (velación) was administered upon the marriage of Antonio de Castro, a merchant, the widowed husband of Leonor Enríquez, and his new wife Doña Ana de Orobio, a native of Madrid, the daughter of Manuel Álvarez Orobio and Doña Mencía Núñez, then residents of Sanlúcar de Barrameda. The priest who recorded the entry specified that Antonio and Ana had been married at Sanlúcar before travelling to Jaén, and that he had seen a notarised copy of their marriage record from that town's church. 

From the names of the parents of the bride it is evident that she was a sister of the physician, philosopher and writer Isaac Orobio de Castro, later persecuted by the Inquisition and eventually exiled in Amsterdam.

SOURCE: Diocesan Archive of Jaén, Parish of San Lorenzo (city of Jaén), Marriages 1632-1676, P. 35.

My Work on Senator Marco Rubio's Ancestry for 'Finding Your Roots'

I'm thrilled that my work on Senator Marco Rubio's ancestor José de Reina y Tosta, and the stories associated with that lineage, can now be enjoyed by TV viewers everywhere. As a genealogist, when working on the Reina line and associated families in the Senator's ancestry, I was at times spoiled for choice - there were several families connected with interesting stories, or that showed potential for entertaining development. Ultimately centre stage was taken by José de Reina y Tosta, a diligent public servant who worked hard in many different posts throughout his career in the South of Spain. José never quite rose as high as he would have liked (and it was clear, from the many petitions for advancement that he filed, that for most of his career he felt qualified to take on more demanding posts than those he was usually given by the bureaucrats in Madrid) but ultimately, when faced with a huge public health crisis while he was on duty, he was at last able to prove his worth. José not only held himself to a high standard but, I suspect, was also a no-nonsense parent; though it was mentioned in the broadcast that his son Rafael, from whom Senator Rubio descends, served in the Spanish army, one minor yet significant detail was omitted. Rafael was only thirteen years old when his service began, in the first year of the Peninsular War against Napoleon. Clearly the Reina men were made of stern stuff!

Rescuing stories like these from oblivion and making them known to people living today who value that knowledge is a hugely satisfying aspect of my work as a genealogist.

(R) My photo of the church in Paradas (Seville) where José de Reina y Tosta was baptised. His father was a native of that town, while his mother was the daughter of an official posted there by a large Andalusian landowner, the Duke of Arcos.

 

Irish in Spain (XI): A C18th Husband & Wife between Málaga, Cádiz and Cuba

Daniel O'Driscoll, a native of Ireland stated to habitually reside in Cádiz, married Ana Michaela Murfy at the 'Sagrario' of the Cathedral of the city of Málaga on 23 October 1797. He was the son of 'Don Juan O'Driscoll' and 'Doña Leonor Macarthy', the bride being the daughter of 'Don Miguel Murfy' and 'Doña María Porro'. The wedding was conducted through a Power of Attorney granted by the groom to his father-in-law on 11 October 1797 before Cádiz notary Félix Araujo.

Though I've seen many Irish families in the sacramental registers of Spanish cities, what made this find particularly interesting was the death record of the groom - the above entry was taken not directly from the relevant marriage register, but from a transcript in the paperwork presented by the bride when she sought to remarry years later. It included another record stating that Daniel O'Driscoll, native of Ireland, in this case a son of 'Jeremías' O'Driscoll and María 'Macarte' had been admitted to the Hospital of San Felipe and San Juan, in care of the Hospitaller Order of St John, in Havana, where he died on 31st January 1803, aged 29. Fourteen years later his widow, who then resided in El Puerto de Santa María (Cádiz) filed paperwork to marry a Dr. Nicolás Meca. 

SOURCE: Archivo General del Arzobispado, Expedientes Matrimoniales Ordinarios, Legajo 1142.

¿Feliz? Navidad y ¿Próspero? Año Nuevo

Éste no ha sido un buen año para los archivos españoles, o al menos como usuario no se percibe que lo fuera; más bien todo lo contrario. Ya en enero glosé en otro blog las dificultades para obtener del Archivo Histórico Nacional un puñado de fotocopias, media docena, que en principio me dijeron que tardarían un año; al final "sólo" fueron cinco meses, desencorchemos el cava. Claro que aún así ha sido mucho mejor que los quince meses de las últimas imágenes que pedí del Archivo General de Índias. Ha habido dignísimas excepciones a esta tendencia a ir a peor (¡Gracias, Simancas!) pero en general el año me ha traído una serie de desencuentos con archivos de diversas administraciones y regiones: de cartas no contestadas, fondos catalogados pero que no aparecen, cierres fortuitos justo el día en que uno llega... Entre septiembre y diciembre no había acceso para investigar en el Archivo Diocesano del Ejército (vean otro blog mío, ¡cómo me gusta dar la lata!) y ahora a pocos días de acabar el año la noticia nefasta de que el Archivo Militar de Ávila, otro que en el pasado me ha brindado excelente servicio, también limita el acceso por falta de personal.

Falta de recursos, falta de personal, falta de... todo. Hay archivos que cuando uno se desplaza y ve el terreno, ya es menos sorprendente que no le contestan los e-mails: no hay catálogo ni instrumentos de descripción y el "personal" muchas veces es una sola persona, a veces presente solamente a tiempo parcial, a veces incluso una contratación ocasional para cubrir un vacante, que tiene mucha buena voluntad pero ni la más mínima idea de donde se halla tal o cual fondo, por mucho que aparezca citado en alguna tésis.

Curiosamente, a la par que tantos archivos patrios están en paños menores, abunda el patriotismo de carton piedra. Por ahí se escribe de los temas históricos más diversos, desde lavar la cara a la Inquisición, a resaltar lo mucho mejor organizadas y gobernadas que estaban las colonias americanas de España, perdón los reinos de Ultramar, que los de Inglaterra (seguramente por ello duraron tanto más bajo su respectiva corona), pasando por un sinfín de tópicos sobre Gibraltar y la Guerra Civil Española. Lo que echo en falta es un sincero interés no por repetir lo que ya se sabe o se cree saber, sino para remediar la llamativa disparidad entre los medios de los archivos que custodian aquí las pruebas de todo aquello, y lo que se gasta y se ofrece en archivos de otras naciones.

Porque los héroes, donde se hallan, es en los archivos. No me refiero a los espadones decimonónicos cuyos apellidos se repiten de forma cansina en el callejero de medio país. Me refiero a los legiones de humildes olvidados que salieron de cada pueblo, cada aldea, de parajes acaso hoy despoblados y olvidados. Ese miliciano idealista que apoyó a Espartero, el mutilado que jamás volvió a andar bien después de Wad-Ras, aquel hijo único que murió en el frente del Ebro, llevando a sus padres a tener otro hijo más y volver a darle el nombre de pila del difunto, 19 años después de haber nacido aquél... Quienes removemos frecuentemente los papeles de otras épocas estamos acostumbrados a encontrar migajas de historias reales mejores, en muchos casos, que la última novela que hemos leído. Lamentablemente, por la falta de recursos, esas historias ahí se quedan, mientras se gastan cuantiosas sumas en rescatar nosequé, o en proyectos de vanidad del gobierno central o regional de turno. Qué triste que, más que un verdadero interés en salvar y difundir aquellas pequeñas historias de sufridos españoles de otras épocas, lo que parece haber en ciertos colectivos y medios no es más que un deseo de sacar pecho delante del vecino, porque eso sí resulta grato y barato.

Realmente no es mí problema, soy güiri y algún día me iré por donde he venido, pero mientras tanto, vuestra decepción ante tales estrecheces surgidas de la dejadez es la mía. Mi deseo, pues, para el año que pronto empieza es que simplemente que la dotación material de los archivos de España sea dignamente proporcional al amor por la patria que tanto hincha la boca a algunos.