Tag: California

Anniversaries: Leonard Jackson Harless, My Husband’s Great-Great-Grandfather, Born On This Date In 1858

I am quite a bit jealous of my husband’s family history; three of his ancestral lines are already very well researched, documented, and certified by other genealogists (unlike my poor immigrant peasant lines). His Harless lineage is one such family line. There is even a published book on them, available on Ancestry.com, and for free through HathiTrust.  His great-great-grandfather, Leonard Jackson Harless, belongs to this well documented Harless line.

Leonard Jackson Harless was supposedly born in the Nebraska Territory on May 20, 1858, to Miles (Myles) Washington Harless and Margaret Gann, while his parents were en route migrating to California from Missouri. Miles is our family’s connection to the famous Hatfields and McCoys.

This branch of the Harless family arrived in California later in 1858, settling first in San Joaquin County and Calaveras County, before moving to Mariposa County where Leonard Jackson spent the rest of his life. However, the rest of Leonard Jackson’s life is a subject for many more blog posts.


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Sources Cited:

Pritchard, J. Le Roy. (1962). Harless genealogy, John Philip and Anna Margaretha (Preiss) Harless: pioneers in western Virginia and some of their descendents. [2d ed.] Cupertino? Calif.].

Paying Tribute: Elsie Charlotte Hayes Died 20 Years Ago Today

My grandmother Elsie Charlotte Hayes (1926 – 1992)

Twenty years ago today, I lost the second most important woman in my life…my wonderful quirky funny grandmother, Elsie Charlotte Hayes. And I still miss her every single day. Even as I write this brief story about my grandma, my eyes are tearing up.

Grandma was like a second mother to me. I was fortunate to spend all but a few years of my life living within an hour’s drive of my grandparents’ home. Grandma and Grandpa came to all of our birthday parties, all of my school musicals and concerts, all of our graduations, my prom sendoffs, etc. I spent many weekends staying over at Grandma’s house, even into my early 20s.

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Grandma as a teen, with her best friend.

But, Grandma died way too young — one month shy of turning 66. She led a rough life and was always very poor of health. Grandma and Grandpa were both way too old before their time. Grandma battled severe asthma and allergies most of her life (made worse by a lifetime of smoking), and developed emphysema, spending her last years attached to a portable respirator. Grandma spent way too much time in hospitals and ambulances. I was there at her home for the final ambulance ride that took her to the hospital where she slipped into a coma, and died a week or so later (I can’t remember exactly how many days or weeks) surrounded by her children.

At Grandma’s funeral, the pastor (who never knew my grandmother) stated, “I understand that Elsie liked to read.” And all of Elsie’s children, children-in-law, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, as well as her husband, started laughing amidst our tears. Because this was the biggest understatement in the world. Elsie did not like to read — Elsie LIVED to read. My grandma was never without a book in her hand or purse, loved trashy romance novels, and read close to a book per day. She loved her family without a doubt, but I think we all deep down wonder if she didn’t love her books more.

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Grandma with cigarette in hand, at a family Christmas during my childhood.

My parents taught me to read, and to love reading. But Grandma taught me to become an obsessive reader at a young age, to devour a good book or good series in no time flat.

So, a couple of nights ago, I decided to pay tribute to my grandma by committing to a standing monthly donation — in my grandmother’s name — to the Foster Care to Success Book Club, which provides textbook funding to needy college-bound foster youth. Grandma married an orphan who spent his juvenile life in foster care, and had two adopted granddaughters (me and my sister) who also spent time in foster care. And Grandma inspired me to read. This financial gesture just seems the right way to honor my grandmother in some small way.

In what ways to you pay tribute to your ancestors?

1940 Census Stories: Maria (Nieto) Robledo And Son Benjamin Robledo

My great-grandmother, Maria Nieto
Robledo (1887-1974).

I was very thrilled to find out last night that the 1940 U.S. Census is now indexed and searchable for California on FamilySearch.org!

A quick search for Robledo quickly led me to my great-grandmother Maria Nieto (married name, Robledo) and my grandfather Benjamin Robledo living at 3032 Rosslyn Street in Los Angeles, California. I cannot tell if this address is still in the city of Los Angeles, or is now part of Glendale — it is located just south of Forest Lawn Memorial Park.

Sadly, my great-grandmother “Nana” was already widowed by 1940, which backs-up the approximate death year of 1936 for her husband Jose “Joe” Robledo, who was still alive for the 1930 U.S. Census.

Nana is listed as the head of household, with no employment.

Nana and Joe’s three oldest children Guadalupe, Refugio, and Trinidad are not listed on this census either, implying they had already moved away from home. But children Benjamin (20 — my grandfather), Mercedes (17), Joe (16), Alfred (11 — my godfather), and Raymond (9) were still living at home.

My grandfather, Benjamin
Robledo (1919-1990)

I also do not find any related surnames living in the nearby proximity.

At the time of the census, my grandfather was employed as a spot welder at an air conditioning factory — a profession he continued to hold when he entered the Navy during World War II.

Once again, I turned to Google Maps to find out if perhaps my family’s home at 3032 Rosslyn Street is still standing. Street View seems to indicate that this address is now a vacant lot between two businesses. And a 360 degree Street View of the area depicts it as an industrial area now, instead of a residential neighborhood.

I know from other documents that my great-grandmother was living at a different address in Glendale by 1955. I guess I’ll have to wait another 10 years to find out if she still lived on Rosslyn Street during the 1950 Census.

A close-up view of the Maria (Nieto) Robledo family in the 1940 US Census. (Click for a larger view).
“United States Census, 1940,” index and images, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/pal:/MM9.1.1/K9C3-MCC : accessed 27 June 2012), Maria E Robledo, Councilmanic District 14, Los Angeles, Los Angeles Township, Los Angeles, California, United States.
A current day look at 3032 Rosslyn Street, Los Angeles, California.
Photo courtesy of Google Street View.


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A Google Street View Look At My Robledo And Nieto Ancestors’ Long Beach Residence Off Now-Trendy Pine Avenue

When my Mexican-born Nieto and Robledo ancestors immigrated from San Luis Potosi in the 1910s, little did they know that their first home, a Long Beach, California address (123 E. 4th St.) would one day be part of a hip and trendy urban redevelopment spot.

According to Google Maps, my ancestors’ former Long Beach home is now the City Place Shopping Center located on Pine Avenue and 4th street. The exact spot appears to now be an entrance way, off 4th street, into a parking structure — next to Wingstop, and across the street from Big 5 Sporting Goods. I guess Hubby and I are going to have to head out there for lunch some Saturday or Sunday so that I cook stare at (and photograph) the spot that used to be home to my family.


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I have spent many sunny Saturdays and Sundays hanging along this stretch of trendy Pine Avenue — shopping, eating, clubbing, and watching movies. Yet I never bothered to look up my great-grandparents’ address on Google Maps until a couple years ago. I’ve stood right on the corner of Pine and 4th…but did not realize that if I just looked due east, I would have seen where my Robledo and Nieto ancestors lived when they settled in California after immigrating from Mexico.

According to Google Maps, this is a Street View look at what used to be 123 E. 4th Street.

This is the same address that my great-grandfather Jose “Joe” Robledo (1875 – ca 1936) listed on his World War I draft card as home to him and my great-grandmother Maria Nieto (1887-1974) in 1918 in the rear unit or home. On the 1920 US Census, I still find them living at this same addressa, along with my great-great-grandmother — Maria’s mother — Maria Aurelia Compean (1858-1963), a bunch of cousins, and my great-grandparents’ children Guadalupe, Refugio, and Benjamin. Infant Benjamin (1919-1990) was my grandfather, and at just 8 months old in the 1920 Census, that means this address was his very first home.

By the 1930 US Census, my great-grandparents Joe and Maria, along with their children (including my grandfather Benjamin), had already relocated to Los Angeles. And my great-great-grandmother Maria Aurelia has already relocated to Glendale.

I would love to find an old photo of the home that once stood at 123 E. 4th Street in Long Beach!

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My Mexican-Born Great-Grandfather Jose “Joe” Robledo And The World War I draft

Jose Robledo (1875 – ca 1936).
This is the only known photo
of my great-grandfather.

I know very little about my great-grandfather Jose “Joe” Robledo. He died before my Dad was even born, and only one of his children is still alive, so that has created some major brickwalls in my research.

Family lore claims that his family was of Spanish descent. And the pale skin, pale hair, and pale eyes in the only photo we have of him lends credence to this story.

I have no birth or death records for him. I don’t even know his death date — I only have an unconfirmed year from family recollections. I do know that he was born in Mexico, and that he lived in San Luis Potosi, but I have no idea if he was born in SLP or just moved there by the time he got married. I know that he did not immigrate to the U.S. with his wife Maria Nieto in 1915, but I don’t know when he came across the border.  I did confirm about 11 years ago, through Census records, that he was already living in Long Beach, California by 1920, and that he was born around 1875 or 1876.

This past week, I discovered his World War I draft card, which finally — through his own account — confirmed at least a few more details about Joe’s life.

World War draft registration card for Jose Robledo, courtesy of FamilySearch.org. Click on the image to view a larger version.

Despite not being a U.S. citizen (I don’t think Joe ever did gain citizenship), Joe, like all men up to the age of 45 was required to register for the draft between 1917 and 1918. Joe’s age group 18 to 45, fell in the third wave registered beginning September 1918.

My great-grandfather Jose Robledo registered for the World War I draft at the age of 43 on September 12, 1918 in Long Beach, California — just under three years since his wife Maria arrived in the U.S. He listed his birth date as either June 26 or June 29 (it’s hard to read), 1875. He lists himself as a citizen of Mexico and a non-declarant alien (I guess this means he did not intend to become a citizen?). Jose was described as being white, of medium height and build, with grey eyes and black hair (that doesn’t match what our photo of him depicts), and with no physical impairments.

On the draft card, Jose lists his place of residence at 123 E. 4th St. (in the rear) in Long Beach, California. He recorded his wife Maria as his nearest relative, living at the same address. Jose also indicates that he was employed as a laborer with the City of Los Angeles, working for the San Pedro Harbor Department.

And, most exciting for me, I get to see my great-grandfather’s signature!

A closer look at my great-grandfather’s signature.

While this discovery provides some good useful details about Joe’s life, it also poses many more questions to be answered. Where in Mexico was he born? When did Jose immigrate to the U.S.? Why is he listed as a non-declarant alien? Didn’t Joe immigrate with the intention of gaining citizenship? Or was Jose hoping to return to Mexico with his family after making some money, or after the political situation in Mexico settled back down?

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Anniversaries: Every Family History Needs A Love Story Like Michael John Flanagan And Elsie Charlotte Hayes

June 22, 1946: My grandparents, Elsie and Mike Flanagan, on their wedding day…4 weeks after the night they first met.

Blame it on The War. Blame it on them both having a hard lonely childhood. Blame it on….love.

My grandparents, Michael John Flanagan and Elsie Charlotte Hayes — my second parents — were married 66 years ago today.

I wish I had known this story while they were both alive. Because every family, and every family history, needs a love story like this. I’d have loved to have interviewed them about “that night”.

It wasn’t until I became a genealogist that I pieced together the dates and learned their story.

There was no long engagement or courtship. There was no meeting the parents. There wasn’t even much time to think about it.

May 23, 1946: The night my grandparents first met. Grandpa is on the far right. Grandma is next to him, snuggling up to her date.

My wonderful adorable loving affectionate grandparents met each other on the evening of May 23, 1946 — on Grandpa’s 19th birthday. Grandma was dating Grandpa’s Navy buddy (the guy snuggled up to her). Grandpa’s Navy buddies were going out on the town that night. I think “the town” was San Francisco, because Grandpa was based out of the Alameda Naval Station. But Grandpa didn’t have a date. Yet his buddies insisted he come along anyway and go stag since it was his birthday. And it just ain’t right for a Navy man to spend his birthday alone.

When it came time for the girls to head home, Grandma kissed her date goodbye — Grandpa’s buddy. Then my grandfather — the biggest charmer in the world, who never cared if he made a fool out of himself — asked her, “Can I have one of those, too?”. And my shy grandma gave him a kiss.

She never dated his buddy again.

And they were married less than one month later. Their marriage, while far from perfect, lasted until Grandma died in 1992.

Mike and Elsie’s marriage certificate. Click on the image to view a larger copy.

Grandma and Grandpa’s wedding picture was on display in our home my entire childhood. I didn’t discover the “first date” photo until after their death, when I got hooked on family history and started scouring through photos that my mom had and my aunt had. I recognized Grandpa in that photo, and I am pretty sure I saw it as a kid. But, I never realized that flirty looking young woman, snuggled up to another sailor, and wearing red lipstick, was my grandmother. To me, after all these years of researching photos, that still does not look like Grandma. But my mother and my aunts have all repeatedly told me that yes, that is Grandma, and that she showed them that photo many times pointing herself out and telling them the story.

One important fact to note from the marriage certificate. Pay attention to the name that Grandpa listed as his mother — Edna Murphy. Edna (Murphy) Buckley was my grandfather’s foster sister-in-law — the only real mother he ever knew since Grandpa was orphaned as a toddler.

Genealogical Inspirations: St. Patrick’s Day And Michael John Flanagan

My grandparents (on the left), in Little John’s, the bar they owned in Pico Rivera, California, 1970s. Grandpa lived for St. Paddy’s Day every year. And I still miss my Grandpa and Grandma every day.

For my entire life, I have associated St. Paddy’s Day with my grandfather, Michael John Flanagan. The surname “Flanagan” ought to clue you into this association.

Every St. Paddy’s Day, during my childhood, I remember Grandpa dressing up as a leprechaun, green tights and all. He had no problem walking out in public in his leprechaun attire — Grandpa relished the shock factor. The tradition started when he owned a a bar, but Gramps kept up the gig long after he left the bar business — I’m pretty sure just to annoy Grandma. While Grandma didn’t mind Grandpa donning Irish attire for the bar, she wasn’t as amused as his kids and grandkids were when he kept the gig up for the long-term (Grandpa had no shame, and loved to embarrass his loved ones).

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Gramps (left) and one of his Little John’s employees making corned beef and cabbage.

I remember going to the grocery store with them as a child on St. Paddy’s Day, with Grandpa in regular clothes (Grandma insisted). Grams and I went into the store, leaving Grandpa in the car. Big mistake. While the two of us were shopping, Grandpa stripped off his street clothes in the car (apparently, he had his leprechaun costume on under his street clothes), walked into the store, and snuck up behind me and Grandma, dressed as a leprechaun. Everyone in the store, including me, got a really good laugh — Grandma didn’t find it quite so funny.

Grandpa lived and breathed anything Irish, and I’m pretty sure that St. Paddy’s day trumped even Thanksgiving and Christmas as his favorite holiday. You see, Grandpa was orphaned at a very young age, was split up from his siblings, grew up poor, and spent his entire adult life making up for this lack of family. He didn’t know much about his parents — just that they were Irish. So Grandpa clung fiercely to that heritage with pride.

One of the only real regrets in my life is that I did not take an interest in genealogy while Grandpa was still alive. How ironic that Michael John Flanagan would have a granddaughter who could help answer some of the questions that plagued his life, but not until after his death. Each time I find a clue in my grandpa’s past, I wish that I had taken the time while he was still alive to interview him and help him find his answers.

This regret is part of what drives me to research and piece together the pieces of my family history. I wasn’t able to help Grandpa, but I can still help his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren discover their Flanagan ancestry.