Nickel For Your Memories

Mary Nickel was Jackie’s great-great grandmother, the first of the Nickels to come to Baltimore from Bavaria. She operated a dairy farm near Dundalk. My mother (Mary Jacqueline) was named after her.

Good Cow Electrocuted

(The Baltimore Sun, 9/24/1901)

A valuable cow, owned by Mrs. Mary Nickel, proprietress of the Point Breeze Dairy Farm, near Colgate creek, was electrocuted yesterday morning in a pasture field on the farm. Two other cows received shocks, but escaped serious injury.

A barbed-wire fence that had become charged with electricity in some unknown way caused the cow’s death. The animal had placed her head through the fence to reach grass on the other side when it received the shock which caused death. The other cows came into contact with the fence, but were able to jump away before they had been seriously burned. The first cow’s neck was terribly burned by the current.

Were Wires Properly Insulated?

(The Baltimore Sun, 11/23/1901)

Mary Nickel and Christian Geiser, by William H. Lawrence, their attorney, have sued the United Railways and Electric Company for $5,000 damages. They aver that they were shocked by an electric current while endeavoring to release the cows of Mary Nickel that had been caught in a wire fence surrounding her property and were injured. They contend that the wire fence was heavily charged with electricity from the company’s wires, and that the latter were not properly insulated.

Mrs. Nickel, by the same attorney, has also sued the company for $500 damages for the killing of one of her cows and inflicting permanent injury on several others.

From Census Records To Cemetery Tours

By Jackie Nickel

I found some relatives I didn’t know I had a couple weeks ago. Or rather, they found me. It started out with a phone call I received on Friday the 13th… a call that has since led me to church records, census documents and the graves of ancestors long departed. Pat Parker of Catonsville called me that Friday evening introducing herself and explaining “my mother is one of your fans.” She said that her mother, Eleanor Roth of Essex, has been reading my work for many years and has felt a connection beyond mere words on paper. Almost five years ago when my mom died, I wrote a tribute that touched a few hearts and led Eleanor to check the obituary pages. Among the names in the list of survivors, she made an association that hinted of a possible family bond. Eleanor’s husband’s great grandmother and my great great grandmother could be one and the same. Something I wrote recently about family spurred her to ask daughter Patty to call me and broach the subject. “She’ll probably think I’m crazy,” Eleanor told Pat. “Crazy? I love this kind of stuff,” I told Pat as we delved into the mystery of our common roots. Yes, my German great grandmother was named Sophie and she was married to a Swede named Peterson and their daughter Lillie, my grandmother, married John Nickel. The family ties go back to another Sophie, one I didn’t know about until Pat’s call. My great grandma Sophie’s mother was also named Sophie (or Sophia as it is on the records) and she married three times, the final husband being Eleanor’s great grandfather George Rothe (pronounced Row-tee and later, after dropping the “e,” Roth). So Sophie the younger was stepsister to George. Of course, after an hour and a half phone conversation that night, I was totally confused — and totally hooked on tracing my roots. The next day, Saturday, I called a couple cousins and started making a list of birth and death dates of their parents and grandparents and other information like where deceased relatives were born, buried, etc. just for a starting point. Sunday morning I woke up with the irresistible urge to visit the cemetery. Not Oak Lawn, where all my known dear departed are buried, but one mentioned to me by Patty as the gravesite of my great grandmother’s first husband. She had found records of his interment while following a branch of the family tree from our common kin, Sophia at a cemetery with an unlikely name, Schwartz’s.

Schwartz’s Cemetery. Not a very reverent name, but Patty explained it was the burial ground of the United Evangelical Church of Christ at East and Dillon Sts. but when Pastor Schwartz took over, people began to refer to it by his name. It was off German Hill Rd. or O’Donnell St., not sure which. Do you know how many cemeteries there are on German Hill Rd? Not just the big ones like Sacred Heart of Jesus, Sacred Heart of Mary and Holy Rosary, but the little Polish National Catholic one, the two Jewish cemeteries and a couple more in between. Well, none of them were Schwartz’s. My friend Carole went with me a few days later to check out O’Donnell St. “Lock your doors,” she told me as I picked her up. It’s not in the best neighborhood. Off we went. Have you ever driven I-95 past the Baltimore Travel Plaza and noticed the forlorn hillside of tombstones off to the right? Well, that’s a portion of the O’Donnell St. cemetery complex. I say complex because O’Donnell Heights is another area of multiple graveyards. I know. I’ve been to them all. And we finally found Schwartz’s! The next day, I emailed my new cousins Patty and her sister Kathleen, who lives right in Middle River, and called their mom Eleanor to share my excitement. I’ll let my email tell the story: “Had a good day in the cemetery yesterday — doesn’t that sound gruesome? My girlfriend went with me — took us a while to find Schwartz’s but we finally did — German writing on the gateway. We drove round just looking until I took a turn up a dead (ha ha) end and had to back out — told Carole to look behind us and tell me when to cut my wheels. I noticed she was looking down. She said “there’s a Peterson footstone.” I looked over and saw a big Scharling headstone! That’s the last name of Sophie the younger’s second husband. So Peter Olaf Peterson has a footstone on the right side and John Scharling on the left and in the middle is my great grandma Sophie (that’s Sophie the younger, remember). Leads me to believe Scharling was a friend of Peterson (they were both Swedish seamen) whom Sophie married after Peter’s death. Then we drove into Sacred Heart of Jesus, just circling around, not getting out of the car. I made another turn up a dead end and looked over and there was a Foertchbeck next to a Foehrkolb, both names of families who had married one of the Nickel brothers. The grave was of the parents of my grandfather’s brother’s wife! There are Foehrkolbs in my neighborhood too — you can bet I’ll call them!

Next we went to Oak Lawn to visit my mom and her aunt and I said I wanted to look for my uncle George Nickel who is buried near a soldier statue —  we went all around the soldier and couldn’t find him then drove on and I spotted a second soldier statue. Sure enough, right behind the soldier and to the right was Uncle George with Aunt Kate — and on the opposite side of the tombstone was my grandfather’s brother George and his wife Annie (Kremp) Nickel!

I know this is all divine providence, especially the first two since I had no idea where they even were and didn’t even get out of the car! Yes, you can tell I’m hooked! It’s given me a new sense of time and place in the universe and a chance to think about what I’m made of. I’m more determined than ever now to find my great great grandmother Mary Nickel — for whom I’m named (Mary Jacqueline) and who was born exactly 100 years before me. I feel connected to her more than ever now. Divine providence. Meeting Patty at the Maryland Historical Society to dig through records next week!”

NEXT: Family Expands Through Genealogy Research (Part 2)

Into the Archives

By Jackie Nickel

After being introduced by my new cousins, Pat Parker, Kathleen Head and Eleanor Roth, to genealogy just three weeks ago, I couldn’t wait to dig through historical records. I made a date to meet Pat at the Maryland Historical Society on Monument St. on Friday morning, Oct. 20. I left home early, knowing I’d get lost as I always do traveling downtown. I didn’t disappoint myself, arriving there “the long way” but only a few minutes late. There was Pat, looking remarkably like another cousin, one I’ve known since childhood! We paid our $4 admission to enter the museum and Pat led the way to the second floor library where you check your purse and pens in lockers. It’s pencils and notebooks only for obvious reasons in the library.

I’m somewhat familiar with MHS since one of my sons served a college internship there. Nonetheless, I was happy to have Pat lead me in the right direction through the rows of shelves, stacks and drawers. Most information, such as census and church records, are on microfilm so the first step is to lay claim to a working desktop projector. We found two, side by side. Pat explained that census records were “sealed” for privacy for 72 years so the most recent we could go back was to 1920, however most of that year was destroyed by fire. She showed me how to come up with the Soundex number for my family name by assigning numbers to consonants and led me mumbling “N240” toward the census drawers. “Here it is! N240.” Without Patty, it would have taken me half a day to find the right reel, but with her, it was a piece of cake.

Since I’m not very mechanically inclined, the microfilm machine itself was a challenge but once the reels were in place I was literally on a roll. We swept through the 1910 census until we located my familiar family names. Wide double pages, handwritten by census takers, detailed each person living in the household, age and occupation. I found my great grandmom Mary Nickel, the one I’m searching for, living on South Clinton street with my grandfather and his brother. They operated a saloon and rooming house there but she listed her occupation as “none.” I had goosebumps as I wrote down every detail, imagining how it was to be interrupted from daily chores by a door-to-door census taker in 1910. Then Pat and I worked our way back to the 1900 census. No need to go to 1890 since my Mary didn’t come to this country until 1895.

Now is the time to interject family lore. Mary was born in Pressig, Bavaria around 1842. She and her husband had several sons and owned a lumber mill. The marriage as well as the political climate was not good, thus, we’ve been told, Mary packed up her boys and headed for the Land of Opportunity, the U.S.A. She didn’t get far, however. When she arrived at the port and attempted to register for the voyage, she was refused passage without her husband’s consent. Since she hadn’t even told him she was leaving, this was not possible. So Mary, with the boys in tow, headed back to Pressig.

Entering the forest near home, she was met by a band of gypsies who lived in the woods. She told them her woes and they provided a solution. Mary was almost six feet tall. With a little help, she could look like a man. They cut her long hair and dressed her in men’s clothing. They coached her in ways to board the ship without raising suspicion, to use her husband’s identity, to work her way over as a deckhand — and to stow away some of the children. Sounds preposterous, right? Well, we’ll see, I thought as Pat and I went on to passenger lists of German shipping lines from 1885. There were no Mary Nickels. But there was a Johann, 34, with two sons, George and Johann, eight and nine. Could it be? Could it be the other boys were stowaways, why there were two Georges and two Johns among the brothers? More goosebumps.

Pat led me then to church records, Sacred Heart of Jesus, all on file. There I found marriage records of my grandparents and their siblings and my mom’s baptismal records, but no mention of Mary Nickel, my great grandmom. I still don’t know when she died or where she’s buried. We checked city directories, similar to telephone books, from the early 1900s and found her listed several times. But in 1914, the year my mom was born, her name was no longer there. Mom was named for her as was I. Had she lived to see her granddaughter? Pat and I poured over film and searched obituaries for several hours as time flew by. We parted with a hug and my renewed commitment to keep up the search which would next lead to a visit to the Mormon library, right in Essex.

“There are volunteers at the Mormon library on Stemmers Run Rd. who will help you get started and point you in the right direction,” Kathy emailed me. The entrance is in the rear of the building and the hours are posted at the door. “Just press the bell and the volunteer of the day will let you in. See you soon.”

NEXT: Family Expands Through Genealogy Research (Part 3)