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.)

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.

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.

 

My Complaint Filed with Spain's Ministry of Culture

Here is the English text, the original Spanish version already having been blogged here:

A few days ago at the National Historical Archive, when I asked about obtaining copies of a 19th century record, I was told by a member of staff that the Urgent Photocopy Service (a policy that allowed archive users to obtain up to 50 copies a month within 24-48 hours) has been 'suspended indefinitely' and, perhaps as a result of this, the backlog wait time to receive any amount of copies requested through 'normal' service is now around SIX MONTHS.

In these conditions reprographic services at the principal archive operated by Spain's Ministry of Culture are not merely unworthy of the 21st century; they don't even limp up to the benchmark for the 20th century. I am certain this is not the fault of the searchroom staff; I'm not sure whether what is lacking are photocopy machines or supplemental, even temporary, staff to operate them, but neither seems like they would require a heroic effort to provide. I think this lack of material and/or human resources reveals officialdom's disinterest, if not disdain, for archives mainly but also for researchers. Let's imagine a hypothetical research project requiring work in several different archival units of records. Suppose they are especially long bundles of documents, perhaps written in one of the more challenging hands (such as the 'encadenada' script used by the Inquisition) which really puts our palaeographical skills to the test. Well, in what would be normal conditions for the year 2018, a researcher could: either request, using the Urgent Photocopy Service I mentioned above, copies of the most crucial pages in the record, have them in hand within 48 hours and then take as much time as needed to decipher them; or, take his or her own photographs of whole record (paying, if the archive charges it, the appropriate daily fee for use of a camera) and then later select and work on the passages of interest; or, order photocopies of the whole thing and then spend extra time on the records, nights and weekends - but not after having had to wait for half a year to even get started! Under current conditions the only way to work with the records at all is to spend however many hours it takes on-site at the archive, conditions detrimental in many ways to researchers: those who travel from outside Madrid will have to pay for more nights at a hotel; those who aren't students or researchers on a grant will have to take more time out from their other obligations to spend more hours sitting at a desk in the searchroom. Those who have doubts about the meaning of a specific abbreviation or have trouble making sense of some ancient record's archaic syntax won't be able to take home a copy to spend more time with, but instead will have to make snap decisions about the contents, with all the possible pitfalls that come with rushing one's work. I have no doubt that such logistical hurdles will lead to more than one research project being abandoned altogether, owing to the sharp increase in the number of hours they require researchers to spend on-site at an archive, compared to what it could and should be.

And all this when Spain's government happily pours millions into the bottomless pit of bailouts for banks and toll roads. Further comment is superfluous, shame sadly lacking.

Heraldry and Genealogy in the town of Llerena

 This town in Spain's westerly Extremadura region was the venue for a wedding I recently attended and while there I found some very appealing heraldic display, ranging from these beautifully painted 16th century arms in one of the chapels at the Nuestra Señora de la Granada church, to these more modern painted tiles at the arrivals door of the bus station, showing the arms of the town and of the region.

Some years ago I had occasion to work extensively with 16th century records of both of Llerena's churches as well as the notarial records for the same period, a wealth of documents that revealed a great deal about the families then prominent in the city - Chaves, Silíceo, Oliveros and Larios, among others. I look forward to eventually adding the photographs I obtained of the many armorial stones adorning some of the town's venerable old houses and will surely find these lineages and others represented in them.

My Research on Linda Chavez' ancestry for 'Finding Your Roots'

The research that I provided for Sunday's season finale of 'Finding your Roots' serves as an excellent object lesson in the value of notarial records for Spanish genealogy. 16th-century Spanish emigrants Francisco de Armijo and Guiomar de Orozco were long ago identified as the root of an Armijo heritage shared by Linda Chavez and many, many people today in Mexico, New Mexico and no doubt elsewhere. But it was the records kept by a Seville notary in the 1570s that allowed Francisco and Guiomar to be 'reunited' with the family they left behind: it was the wills, estate sales and other legal records identifying parents, in-laws and deceased first spouses that permitted certain placement of Guiomar de Orozco within the family of that surname singled out as conversos by Dr Juan Gil in his monumental work on Seville families of Jewish origin. Sadly, funds for the preservation and indexing of notarial records were not exactly abundant in Spain before the economic downturn and are likely to be even less so for the foreseeable future. But the tale they disclosed in this instance, of the wealthy though 'suspect' Orozcos seeking a cloak of safety through repeated marriages with the humble but 'safe' Armijos illustrates why notarial records are crucial to taking any research into Spanish families beyond mere the assembly of names and dates.

'Who Do You Think You Are?' Broadcasts My Work on Martin Sheen's Spanish Ancestry

Last night's episode of Who Do You Think You Are? treated the American viewing audience to the family history of one of the nation's best known actors, Martin Sheen. I've been gratified by how well the broadcast was received, and in particular how much interest was elicited by one of the strands of the story - that of a philandering 18th-century Galician magistrate. As I was ferreting the details out of dusty old records I personally thought ithe developing saga was enthralling,  but wasn't sure if others would be as entertained by it as I was.

After so many months of carrying around in my head the remarkable story of Sheen's ancestor Don Diego Francisco Suárez, I am delighted that it has at last been shared with the wider public. Mr. Sheen and his family also seem to have found this branch of his tree to be one of the most interesting ones, saying in an interview that 'They were fascinated with the irony, particularly on my Spanish side, when we discovered that wretched great, great, great, great grandfather Don Diego Francisco Suarez. That was a knuckleball that we weren't anticipating and I took it very personal. That was the one that really grabbed the attention around here in the family and caused quite a bit of eyebrow raising... My great, great, great grandfather prosecuted my great, great, great grandmother. And that was the biggest surprise and the most intriguing part of the whole journey.'

Genealogy can be more interesting than the very best fiction.