for wealthy folks here in town. The notation in the
City Directory says cabtmkr—cabinetmaker. Think we can find anything about
him?”
“We’ll try. But birth
certificates were not required by law until 1913, and then only within the city
itself. So depending on when and where he was born, we might come up
empty-handed.”
Carla’s prediction
proved accurate. They searched the birth index—no more than a computer printout
of the records housed at the courthouse—and found nothing about the birth of
Leland Howard. Neither did they find anything for Marie Howard, but she would
have had a different maiden name, so the dead end did not surprise them. The
Ancestry.com database proved much more helpful. Details of the 1930 census had
been released the previous year, and in it they found a listing for Arlen
Howard. Living in his household were his wife, Mary Alice; his son, Leland; his
daughter-in-law, Marie Eleanor; and his grandson, Clayton Samuel. For the first
time, Tate realized Leland and his wife had a child born in 1927.
“Well, that’s an exciting piece of
information! But why would Leland himself be so elusive?” Tate mused. “Let’s
see what else we can find.” Tate noticed Carla glancing at her watch. “Oh, I’m
sorry! I’ve been monopolizing your time.”
“It’s okay. I can give you a few more
minutes before I have to attend a meeting. I’m happy to help for as long as I
can.”
“Then let’s look at the death index. I can
search the Ancestry database on my own.”
A tantalizing bit of
information turned up as they continued their search in the death index: Marie
Eleanor Howard had died, as Tate knew, on March 15, 1962. Her son, Clayton
Samuel Howard, died the same day.
“Beware the Ides of March!” Tate exclaimed
under her breath.
“I guess so!” Carla and Tate exchanged a
look of amazement. “This is fascinating! Why are you looking into these
people?”
“It all has to do with that old house on
Chestnut. I really had no idea what I was getting into, but I can’t seem to
stop!”
“Oh, that old place has been a problem for
ages. People have been trying to get it knocked down for I don’t know how
long!”
“Well, I guess I’m the only person alive who
wants to see it saved, but I just can’t let go of the idea that’s what I’m
supposed to do.”
“It’s a big task you’ve taken on. From what
I hear, they are moving as fast as they can to finalize the deal with the
developer and begin demolition. Of course they have to go through the whole
legal process of taking possession from the current owner.”
“Then I have to move
fast, too. According to the tax records, the house is held in trust for a
Leland Samuel Howard. The trustee is the law firm of Paige and Schmidt. I
assume Mr. Howard is dead, but if so, why didn’t he show up in the death index?
Is there any other way to find him? Maybe something about surviving family?
Hopefully he has living relatives somewhere.”
“If he’s dead, he would appear in the
index.”
“But he’d have to be in his nineties . . .
and if he’s still alive, why doesn’t he show up anywhere?” Tate’s growing
frustration resided dangerously close to resignation. “I guess I’ll head over
to the Registrar of Deeds and see if they have anything there we couldn’t find
here.”
“Sorry I have to leave, but I’ll look
further when I get back. How can I reach you if I find something?”
Tate gave Carla her phone number and headed
home, exhausted. She completely forgot about going back to Ancestry.com, and
the Registrar would just have to wait.
As Tate trudged home, she wished she had
driven downtown instead of walking. Once there she brewed a cup of strong
coffee and loaded it up with half-and-half, then settled onto her long
comfortable couch. As usual in quiet moments like this, she looked around and
began hatching plans for how she would fix her place up.
This couch has to go. Love it, but it’s
way too big for this
City Directory says cabtmkr—cabinetmaker. Think we can find anything about
him?”
“We’ll try. But birth
certificates were not required by law until 1913, and then only within the city
itself. So depending on when and where he was born, we might come up
empty-handed.”
Carla’s prediction
proved accurate. They searched the birth index—no more than a computer printout
of the records housed at the courthouse—and found nothing about the birth of
Leland Howard. Neither did they find anything for Marie Howard, but she would
have had a different maiden name, so the dead end did not surprise them. The
Ancestry.com database proved much more helpful. Details of the 1930 census had
been released the previous year, and in it they found a listing for Arlen
Howard. Living in his household were his wife, Mary Alice; his son, Leland; his
daughter-in-law, Marie Eleanor; and his grandson, Clayton Samuel. For the first
time, Tate realized Leland and his wife had a child born in 1927.
“Well, that’s an exciting piece of
information! But why would Leland himself be so elusive?” Tate mused. “Let’s
see what else we can find.” Tate noticed Carla glancing at her watch. “Oh, I’m
sorry! I’ve been monopolizing your time.”
“It’s okay. I can give you a few more
minutes before I have to attend a meeting. I’m happy to help for as long as I
can.”
“Then let’s look at the death index. I can
search the Ancestry database on my own.”
A tantalizing bit of
information turned up as they continued their search in the death index: Marie
Eleanor Howard had died, as Tate knew, on March 15, 1962. Her son, Clayton
Samuel Howard, died the same day.
“Beware the Ides of March!” Tate exclaimed
under her breath.
“I guess so!” Carla and Tate exchanged a
look of amazement. “This is fascinating! Why are you looking into these
people?”
“It all has to do with that old house on
Chestnut. I really had no idea what I was getting into, but I can’t seem to
stop!”
“Oh, that old place has been a problem for
ages. People have been trying to get it knocked down for I don’t know how
long!”
“Well, I guess I’m the only person alive who
wants to see it saved, but I just can’t let go of the idea that’s what I’m
supposed to do.”
“It’s a big task you’ve taken on. From what
I hear, they are moving as fast as they can to finalize the deal with the
developer and begin demolition. Of course they have to go through the whole
legal process of taking possession from the current owner.”
“Then I have to move
fast, too. According to the tax records, the house is held in trust for a
Leland Samuel Howard. The trustee is the law firm of Paige and Schmidt. I
assume Mr. Howard is dead, but if so, why didn’t he show up in the death index?
Is there any other way to find him? Maybe something about surviving family?
Hopefully he has living relatives somewhere.”
“If he’s dead, he would appear in the
index.”
“But he’d have to be in his nineties . . .
and if he’s still alive, why doesn’t he show up anywhere?” Tate’s growing
frustration resided dangerously close to resignation. “I guess I’ll head over
to the Registrar of Deeds and see if they have anything there we couldn’t find
here.”
“Sorry I have to leave, but I’ll look
further when I get back. How can I reach you if I find something?”
Tate gave Carla her phone number and headed
home, exhausted. She completely forgot about going back to Ancestry.com, and
the Registrar would just have to wait.
As Tate trudged home, she wished she had
driven downtown instead of walking. Once there she brewed a cup of strong
coffee and loaded it up with half-and-half, then settled onto her long
comfortable couch. As usual in quiet moments like this, she looked around and
began hatching plans for how she would fix her place up.
This couch has to go. Love it, but it’s
way too big for this
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