Talking to Flying Saucers and Spirits of the Dead – and a Painting by the Spirit of a Dead Artist?

The story of a California visit by Claire Dunn in the 1950s is among the strangest in our family's history...




▲ Flying saucer? Photo taken December 2003, at Giant Rock, California (source)

◄ "Giant Rock": Compare the size of the rock to the size of the person standing in the middle. (source)


 





In 1921 Claire Dunn was born Fleeta Claire Jones, and in 1940 she married William Edward (Bill) Dunn (1918-1986). Claire's ancestral Jones line is as follows:

Lewis Jones (1791-1871) & Rebecca McPherson Jones
▼
Dr. William M. Jones (1831-1892) & Elizabeth Goodman Jones
▼
Fleetwood Churchill Jones (1857-1937) & Leona Cash Jones
▼
Rev. Carleton Duane Jones (1895-1967) & Nelle Virginia Field Jones
▼
Fleeta Claire Jones (b.1921)

Claire became the mother of the five "East Chicago Dunns", as I've labeled the family, including me, Patrick Dunn, the editor of this blog. The information quoted below was written by Claire, and is excerpted from a 400 page autobiographical manuscript she assembled about various events in her life. This portion of her manuscript deals with events that took place circa 1953, when she took me with her to California to visit her mother and other maternal family members. 

♦♦♦

"Pat was about twelve years old when I took him with me to visit Mother and [her mother's significant other] Charlie in California. Mother had invited me to come out, I thought it would be nice to take Pat with me. He was getting grown up and able to talk intelligently, not just a child, and I was beginning to enjoy having him.

However, we did not have any money, and although Mother had invited me, I had to pay my own way. I could come up with enough for my own fare, but not his. So I suggested to him that he might use his paper route money to pay his own way out there, that is, if he would like a trip to California. He thought it over, and decided he would.

The flight was enjoyable. I had never been on a plane, and I liked it. Pat was very blasé about the whole thing, you'd think he had flown all his life. While flying over the Grand Canyon, which went on and on for miles, and was spectacular from the air, Pat was reading a comic book!

'Pat, look, look!' I said excitedly, 'There's the Grand Canyon!' 'Um hum', he replied, barely glancing out the window, and returning instantly to his book.

I was peeved. Here was a chance of a lifetime and the dumb kid didn't appreciate it. Then I remembered, rather guiltily, how I had felt when I looked at the Grand Canyon when I was about nine. I didn't appreciate it either, then. Kids aren't scenery conscious, I decided.

When we got to Palm Springs, I was really impressed with the town. It was obviously a resort town, a place where nobody lived, just visited. The town had been built out in the desert, nothing was natural, all of it was artificial and man-made. It was the only town in the United States that had white fire engines, I was told. That may be different now, but it was the only one then.

The sidewalks were made of pastel colored concrete blocks, in random shapes. The lights were hidden in palm trees, and every other tree had a basin of water at the base for the rich [people's] dogs to drink from.

Pedestrians had the right of way over traffic at all times, and they took advantage of it. The street was full of strolling, half-naked visitors. Nobody wore clothes. If you wore a dress with sleeves you were overdressed. Even the people in the offices and stores wore shorts and halters and thongs.

It was colorful and exciting, and hot. Hot beyond anything I had ever experienced. All the houses were flat roofed, with air coolers on top, and water would be poured on the roof so that the evaporation would cool the rooms underneath. This was something I had never had any experience with. Nobody went out in the daytime, at noon, but either stayed inside where it was cool, or soaked in the swimming pools, which everybody had.

The town was composed of shops, real estate agents, and hotels. That was about all the business there was. Restaurants, of course, but they were usually attached to the hotel. Or motel.

Mother was a masseuse. She hadn't had any training and hadn't been a masseuse the last time I saw her, but she was now. California had very loose laws and anybody could say they were anything, and just go ahead and do it.

Some of her customers were movie stars and starlets and movie stars’ wives. She went up to Frank Sinatra's house and gave Ava Gardner a massage on several occasions. She said Ava was beautiful, and walked around nude no matter who was there.

Mrs. William Powell came in for a massage while I was there, a beautiful creature, sun-tanned and beautifully made up.

Pat enjoyed the swimming and the lush life everyone lived. The shops and real estate didn't impress him, but the swimming and the motel did.

Charlie gave me a hundred dollars to spend when I got there. It sounded like a lot of money until I went to buy a dress. My God, the prices! A dress that would have been five dollars in Chicago was twenty-five dollars there. I couldn't waste the money on something like that, so I didn't buy it. Bought some jewelry, and a Hawaiian dress like I had never seen before. Managed to spend the money, all right, no sweat.

"Giant Rock"

There really wasn't that much to do around Palm Springs if you didn't have any money. Mother closed up the shop one day, and we went out to the desert to a place called Giant Rock.

What surprised me was that it really was a giant rock, and that's all it was. In the middle of the desert, with no other rocks around it [photos I found online indicate that she was mistaken about this point], was this rock that was about 100 feet in all directions. Underneath it, a room had been hollowed out. 

A man lived nearby who had a generator for his electricity. He was probably a rancher, there's no other way to make a living on the desert.

Speaking with flying saucers?

What we went to was a meeting of some flying saucer buffs. There were a lot of other cars there, all the people seemed to know each other, as Mother introduced us to many of them. They looked perfectly normal, well, as normal as people in southern California usually look. There were no obvious kooks, nobody with straw in their hair.

The whole group went down into a room that was dug out under the rock. There is no way to describe how dark it can be in a hole under a rock in the desert, in the night. It was the darkest dark I have ever experienced. It was possible to see the radium dial on a watch twenty feet away.

What we went down there for, was to talk to the flying saucers. Yep. Since I couldn’t see anything, I couldn’t tell if the leader was talking on an instrument, like a phone or a radio, or not. He sounded like it. We could hear his side of the conversation, as on a phone, but hear nothing from the flying saucers which were supposedly circling overhead.

These saucers [supposedly] came from a planet which was in back of the moon, which was the reason astronomers had never discovered it. Nobody there seemed to know that a couple of planets had been discovered that can't even be seen, but were discovered due to the gravitational pull they exerted on other planets. Common sense was not a factor here.

There was a good crowd, considering the circumstances, perhaps fifty people. There were lots of old sofas and chairs that had apparently either been thrown out and recovered, or donated to the cause. Fans circulated the air, fortunately, and nobody was allowed to smoke. A secretary wrote down all the messages [from the flying saucers] that the leader repeated as he listened. This would be later transcribed and printed in a paper they passed around among themselves. 

Being a secretary myself, I was impressed with her ability to write shorthand in the pitch black dark we were experiencing. Since I never saw the paper I had no way of knowing how accurate she was in her reporting.

After the meeting or visit everybody left and sort of visited with each other out on the sand, exactly like people coming out of Sunday morning [church] service. I had a feeling of déjà vu as memories of long ago came flooding back.

Mother seemed quite happy at having visited the flying saucers, and chatted happily about it all the way home. To each his own, I guess.

Speaking with the spirit of a dead person?

Later in the visit we all went to see [Claire’s cousin] Maggie and [her husband] Fritz, who live in San Bernadino. [Claire’s aunt] Bess and Mother decided that Maggie should put on a séance for us. Maggie had become a trance medium, a logical successor to the Ouija board she and [Claire’s cousin] Maurine used to play with when I visited her in Chicago.

Maggie obligingly went into a trance and carried on a conversation with the spirit of a black mammy she had been raised with. She also talked like she was on a telephone, and we just heard her end of it.

This did cause Pat to lose his cool. I really think he was frightened and asked if he could be excused. The others seemed to think he shouldn't be, but I let him go outside. This was heady stuff for a twelve year old kid who hadn't been exposed to the kind of family I came from.

Later, when I thought about the things Maggie's 'spirits' told me I realized she and Mother must have known more than I did about my personal problems. There was lots of vague advice and admonishments that I didn't understand then.

A portrait painted by the spirit of a dead artist?

Maggie did do one beautiful thing for me. Mother asked her to do it, but when we all came back from a side trip to Mexico one day, we walked into Maggie's living room and she had painted my portrait! Mother had given her a copy of a studio portrait I had had taken, and Maggie had painted it in three days. She says she is not the painter, that the spirit of a dead painter who never became famous, paints through her.

Whoever it [was], the picture is beautiful and I cried when I saw it. It is one of my greatest treasures.

Other pictures Maggie has painted are beautiful, but none are as good as the one she did of me. It shows me holding a bouquet of yellow roses, and each of them is supposed to be somebody important in my life. And the background shows a stormy sky which is supposed to be my aura. It has an intense look in the eyes, and almost a Mona Lisa smile. To me, it is priceless, a true treasure.

In fact, later I gave instructions to the kids. 'If the house ever catches fire, save the picture. I can't replace it. I can always get more kids!' [Interestingly, Maurine’s daughter Bonnie now has that painting.]

Incidentally, Pat never did think he got his money's worth out of that trip."

♦♦♦

The California trip from my perspective

What you see above is Claire's memories of the trip. Below is my perspective on it, as expressed in messages to my siblings after first reading her version, and before posting it on this blog.

"In her 400-page manuscript she [Claire] tells the story of taking me - age 12 - to California with her to visit her mother [Nelle] and other relatives.

It was a very strange experience!

1) When we arrived at the airport, we exited the plane into an open area, not directly into a terminal as we usually do these days. Nelle was waiting for us, and as we approached her she pointed skyward and shouted for all to hear, something to the effect of, "Look, flying saucers." It was weird, for everyone began to look upward, but there was nothing to be seen.

2) They took me out to a place called "Giant Rock", where a meeting room had been dug out under a seven-story sized rock in the Mojave desert. There, we and about 50 other people heard what were supposed to be one side of two-way conversations with beings from outer space - supposedly hovering somewhere in flying saucers or whatever.

It was like hearing one side of a phone conversation, where someone in the room conducted the half that we could hear, then reported what the space aliens had to say.

See Giant Rock for a Wikipedia story about it - it says, in part, "Giant Rock is a large freestanding boulder in the Mojave Desert near Landers, California, that covers 5,800 square feet...of ground and is seven stories high. In ancient times it was considered sacred by the Native Americans of the Joshua Tree, California, area. In the 1950s it was a gathering point for UFO believers."

3) On another occasion they had me sit in on a séance where Claire's cousin Maggie, supposedly a medium, supposedly talked with the spirit of a deceased old southern mammy while everyone sat in a big circle holding hands. It scared me to death. I ran from the room after a bit of it.

4) Then there was the time her [Claire's] mother told me that she [Nelle] was not my grandmother, but was, instead, a being from Venus who was just inhabiting Nelle's body(!)

Here's a sidebar to this part of the story: In September,1964, about a year or so after the events described above, Nelle wrote a letter to Claire that covered several issues they'd been dialoging about. Included in that letter is a brief reference to Nelle's having been visited by a "ship from outer space" - and that she might just "go away with them the next time."

Claire detailed this California trip in her manuscript - and about Nelle being "from Venus" in a letter she wrote to me when I was writing to her (Claire) 2-3 years ago about family history questions.

Weird?
 
Absolutely!

♦♦♦

I remembered most of those events, but was a bit annoyed by info I'd forgotten. In her manuscript Claire says she had me pay my own way, using money I'd earned on my two paper routes! I delivered five different papers - the (Chicago) Tribune and (Chicago) Sun Times in the mornings and the (Chicago) Herald American, the (Chicago) Daily News, and the Hammond Times in the afternoons.

In the rain. When it was cold and snowy or icy. When it was miserably hot and sweaty.

Every day, seven days a week, except that on Sundays I delivered all the Sunday papers at one time.

On Saturdays I went house to house, customer to customer, to collect for the week's payments. If customers didn't pay, or weren't there, or moved without paying me, that was my problem. I still had to pay Nassau & Thompson (the distributor) in full every week. Deadbeats ate into my earnings.

In other words, I worked hard and long for that money.

I don't have a clue as to how much money was involved, but in effect she used my money to pay my expenses for a trip to meet her mother and that side of her family, none of whom I had ever met before - and never saw again. And show me off (hey, I was cute and smart, so she could brag on me to those wacky people) and it cost her zilch!

Is it surprising that I, as a 12-year old kid, didn't think I got my money's worth out of that trip?

- PWD

♦♦♦

Last revised 7/20/2011

Please refer to the disclaimer on the index page of this blog for a statement regarding the accuracy of - and documentation for - the information presented in this blog.

Index and Links as of April, 2011

♦ Click below to go to:

Index and Links as of April, 2011

The Human Side of the 1941 Fire at Chicago Mill & Lumber Company - and Our Family's Connection

John Dunn, the brother of my generation's grandfather, rose from being an entry-level employee to become the president of a far-flung publicly-held company with thousands of employees. The company was Chicago Mill & Lumber Company, and in 1941 it experienced a terrible fire that resulted in the deaths of three Chicago firefighters in the line of duty as they fought the fire.

◄ One of the firefighters was George Michalski, and
I was contacted by his son, Daniel, who found this blog and my reference to Chicago Mill. Daniel provided a collection of photos and articles about the fire, his father, mother and their children. (While not a member of our family, firefighter Michalski's story
is one that I believe needs to be included here as part of Chicago Mill's history, which is part of our family story.)

As if the death of firefighter Michalski wasn't sad enough, there was an ironic twist. An article titled, “Outing With Family Costs Fireman Life”, says, “…Ordinarily Michalski would have been off duty at 8 a.m., before the 5-11 alarm [the highest alarm level used in Chicago] was sounded yesterday morning. But last week, to enable him to go out with his family, another fireman took his watch for two hours, and he returned the favor yesterday morning.”
(Click this article twice to make it readable.)
Source

In other words, his desire to be with his family on that outing led to a schedule change that put him on duty at the time of the fire at Chicago Mill. How sad is that!

◄ Chicago Tribune graphic given to Alice Michalski, widow of George Michalski
Source
(Click to enlarge photos and exhibits.)

Our family connection to John Dunn:

Elsewhere in this blog
I report on the life of John Dunn, aka Jack, whose lineage and connection to our family can be seen in this matrix. Jack was part of his father William’s second family (William’s first wife and two of their four children had died, reportedly of scarlet fever). Jack was one of the six children of William and Josephine Lauer Dunn, including my generation’s grandfather, Eugene Dunn, meaning that Jack was our great uncle.

On the page in this blog that deals with Jack Dunn, John Stiefel - his son-in-law - made a comment that says, in part:

“Omitted from your biography is that when Jack's father died, Jack was approximately 16 years old, had to quit high school to support his mother and several younger brothers, went to work in a piano factory, eventually took correspondence courses to get an accounting degree, and then quit the piano factory where he had worked for many years to take a job in the accounting department of Chicago Mill and Lumber for ONE-HALF the pay he was then getting, because he knew there was a better future for him as an accountant. This man, who didn't attend college, and may not have graduated from high school, became the President of a public company.

I was with him when he died, and miss him to this day.”

Jack retired from the company after 1962 (when, as president, his name, photo and a letter from him appeared in the company’s annual report) and before 1964, when he died.

He was probably not yet the president of the company on June 16th, 1941, the date of the fire. In fact, I have no information about what his role with the company, if any, was at that time. However, on Jack's page of this blog is a quote from a report about the fire.

It says, in part: “…The total damage of the fire was estimated to be about $75,000 [equivalent to about $1.1 milion in 2010 dollars]. The widows of the fallen firefighters were given support from Mayor Edward Kelly and the Firemen’s Mutual Benefit Association. The three firemen, along with other victims, were later recognized for their heroic efforts in the annual police and fire thrill show held at Soldier’s Field on July 13, 1941."
Source

That version of the story is reported simply in factual terms – and doesn’t reveal anything about the families of the three firefighters who died in the line of duty during the fire. The purpose of this page is to provide at least a bit of that missing element.

♦♦♦

More about George Michalski and the human aspect of this event:

In September of 1935, George Michalski, about age 24, was one of 125 rookies photographed by the Chicago Tribune when they were sworn in as members of the Chicago fire department. Here's a link to a photo of the swearing-in ceremony.

◄ Two years after he was sworn in, on September 25th, 1937, he and Alice married.
Source 



◄ Here they are on their honeymoon. Source







◄ Soon they began having children. This photo is George and their eldest son, Daniel, on June 28, 1940.
Source

 ◄ This is Alice and Daniel at the cemetery on June 21, 1941.
Source











◄ Alice, Daniel and youngest son, Floyd, in a news clipping on June 17, 1941.
Source










So, there you have it. On June 16th, 1941, Firefighter First Class George Michalski, age 30, and two other firemen died in the line of duty while fighting the devastating fire at the Chicago Mill and Lumber Company. Firefighter Michalski was survived by his wife, Alice, 31, and two sons, Daniel, who was almost three, and Floyd, who was ten months old.

◄ This is his badge.








It's labeled with the month and year in which he died in the line of duty. It appears to be part of a tribute to fallen firefighters, for the edges of other badges can be seen in this photo.

♦♦♦

The rest of the story:

In January, 2011, I received the following email message from Daniel Michalski, who found my email address on this blog:

"Dear Mr. Dunn,

Attached are [links to] photographs and documents from my keepsakes.

I thought they might interest you. [The photos and exhibits on this page come from his collection - and are included here with his permission.] 

My father George was age 30 when he was killed, my mother Alice had just turned 31, my brother Floyd was age nine months, and I [w]as to be age three in two weeks.

Death benefits were virtually nonexistent in those days.

Mom received a one-time check for $500 and an absolutely fixed duty-death annuity of $125 per month from June, 1941 until a revision of Illinois state law in 1972 increased that amount somewhat. She received an additional $10 per month for Floyd and me until we reached age 18.

A City of Chicago trust fund in her name was swindled from her.

She was never able to remarry, saying that she felt married to Dad in her heart.

Regards,

Daniel Michalski"

♦♦♦

The photos and documents provided by Daniel are sad, dramatic, touching and interesting – all at the same time. After seeing his remarkable collection of mementos about George Michalski and the fire, I requested Daniel’s permission to use on this blog some of the exhibits he provided. He graciously responded as follows:

“Dear Mr. Dunn:
I was moved and flattered that you chose to make public the documents regarding my father's death in the line of duty. By all means use them, but judiciously.
The $500 my mother Alice received was a one-time death benefit. She later invested the full amount in a private trust fund managed by a Chicago firefighter from his firehouse on North Elston Avenue, Chicago. When my younger brother Floyd became ill with pneumonia, [s]he took me by the hand and together we traveled by streetcar to that firehouse, where she intended to withdraw some of her money.

I recall the incident clearly. We were told that the firefighter ‘retired’ to Mexico, taking all of the assets of the fund with him. In those days during World War II, trust funds were not regulated or insured. Mom lost her entire $500 death benefit. The incident was confirmed to me by a trustee on the Firemen's Annuity & Benefit Fund Of Chicago, the pension arm of the Chicago Fire Department.

My mother Alice died of heart failure on May 6, 2000, age 89; and my brother Floyd died of cancer in 2002, age 62. As I previously told you, my mother was never inclined to remarry.

The Paepcke family, father Hermann and son Walter, founded the Chicago Mill and Lumber Company and later the Container Corporation of America as you surely know. Neither they nor their companies acknowledged my father's death with so much as a sympathy card to my mother. My mother never conceived that Dad died a ‘wrongful death’ in what investigators called a ‘tinderbox’, and was never inclined to sue.

Life is the chance that we all must take, and my mother, brother and I went at it with a vengeance, devoid of my father's presence as a provider, husband, wage earner and consort to my mother.

Again, use my documents and memories as you please, but with discretion.

Every best wish to you, Mr. Dunn.

Respectfully,

Daniel George Michalski”

♦♦♦

◄ Here's a news clipping about the fire.











◄ Here's a photo from the funeral.




                                             



◄ Alice at the funeral

◄ Here's a memoriam to firefighter Michalski.

◄ Daniel Michalski with his father's helmet at the Chicago  memorial park for fallen firefighters and paramedics.



Other exhibits from Daniel's collection:

■ George Michalski in uniform - portrait
■ Second view of the fire

■ Third view of the fire

■ Fourth view of the fire

■ Fire department report about George Michalski's death

■ George Michalski's headstone

Editor’s comment: I cannot adequately express the emotions I’ve felt as I’ve read the articles and reviewed the photos. It’s impossible for an outsider to understand the impact – both past and ongoing – of the sacrifices made by George Michalski and his family. The same applies to the other two men who died in that event - and their families.

I can only say thanks...

And that seems totally inadequate.

- PWD

♦♦♦

Last updated 4/13/2011

Please refer to the disclaimer on the index page of this blog for a statement regarding the accuracy of - and documentation for - the information presented in this blog.

Leo Peter Dunn, Grandson of Michael Dunn

Leo Peter Dunn was the brother of my generation's great grandfather, William Edward Dunn - whose story is covered elsewhere in this blog. Shown here is Leo's 1917 World War I draft registration: (Click to enlarge it.)

 

Comments about Leo's life are included at the bottom of this page. To start, however, I will simply recount the data I've learned about him.

Descendancy Chart: Pierce Dunn to Leo P Dunn

Pierce Dunn:
He was farmer in Ireland. The evidence we have suggests he emigrated to England in the mid-1800s as a result of the potato blight and resulting famine in Ireland, probably with his son Michael.
▼
Michael Dunn and Bridget Grace Dunn:
He went from being a laborer in Ireland to becoming a farmer in Illinois. They emigrated from Ireland to England, married there, then emigrated to the U.S. in 1858. They settled in Illinois.
▼
Peter L Dunn and Ellen Morris Dunn:
He was Michael and Bridget's eldest son, and was born in England. He moved from Illinois to Washington state to Kansas during his lifetime and it seems likely he became a farmer.
▼
Leo Peter Dunn and Ruth Irene Gray Dunn:
He is first recorded as being a farm hand. Later records show him as an auto repairman and then an auto salesman. He moved from Washington to Kansas to California during his lifetime.

♦♦♦

Here are the facts we have about Leo:

From the 1900 federal census:
The family was living in Garfield, Washington. Leo was age 5, Peter was 42 (recorded as born in England) and Ellen was age 45 (born in Illinois). Leo’s year of birth is shown as 1894, which differs from other records showing it as 1893.

This census shows Peter’s father [Michael] as being born in Scotland and his mother [Bridget] being born in Ireland. However, other records show both parents being born in Ireland. Ellen’s parents are both shown as being born in Ireland.

Peter’s occupation is not shown in this census, but the neighbors are all farmers, which suggests that he was as well. It records Peter as having emigrated in 1859, but his parents emigrated in 1858, and we believe he was with them at that time. Ellen is recorded as being the mother of eight children, with only four still living.

♦♦♦

From Leo’s 1917 WW I Draft Registration:
■ Name:  age 23;
■ Address: RR 1, Culver, Kansas;
■ Date of birth: October 24th, 1893;
■ Born in Garfield, Washington;
■ Occupation: Farm hand;
■ Employer: Walter Selleck, RR 1, Culver, Kansas;
■ He claimed an exemption from the draft because he had a wife;
■ Previous military service: 2 years as a private in the Coast Artillery, Massachusetts.
(See the footnote at the bottom of this page for information about the Coast Artillery)

♦♦♦

From the 1920 federal census:
The family was living in Richland, Labette County, Kansas.
■ Leo's mother, Ellen, age 64, was the head of the household;
■ Leo was listed as Peter L Dunn, age 26, son. (It appears this
is a reversal of his first and middle names in this record);
■ His occupation was shown as auto repairman at a garage;
■ Ruth, Leo’s wife, age 22, was listed as Ellen's daughter-in-law;
■ Peter F was listed as grandson.

♦♦♦

His great granddaughter Jeanne Means posted this on Ancestry.com with this caption: "Leo was a Deputy Sheriff in 1923 for Parsons, Kansas"

From the 1925 Kansas census:
The family was living in Parsons, Labette County, Kansas.
■ Leo P, age 31, was the head of the household;
■ His occupation was listed as auto salesman;
■ Ruth I, wife, was age 27;
■ Children listed were Peter F, age 7, and Frank L, age 3.

♦♦♦

From the California Death Index:
■ It shows Leo’s mother’s maiden name as Lyons, which is inconsistent with other information showing her maiden name as Morris;
■ It shows his Social Security number as 530-03-5058;
■ His date of birth: 23 Oct, 1893;
■ His date of death: 4 Dec, 1942, in Los Angeles.

♦♦♦

From his granddaughter, Carla Myers Busby:Leo Peter had two sons.
■ Peter Frederick – born Dec. 10,1917
Peter had four children. Evelyn, Donald, Ruth Irene, Ronald Eugene.
■ Franklin Leonard Dunn (Myers) – born April 25,1922
Frank had three children. Larry Franklin, Leonard Blaine, and Carla Gail.


♦♦♦

As noted elsewhere in this blog, I was able to connect with this branch of our family after posting an inquiry on a genealogy message board - which led to my becoming acquainted with a very helpful gal by the name of Kate. I was looking for information about Michael and Bridget Grace Dunn, and Kate knew of someone else who was also looking for them.

That person was Carla, and Kate linked us up. It turned out that Carla is my generation's long-lost second cousin, and she has been working on her family history for many years. She provided most of the information we have on this branch of the family tree.

Early in my dialogue with her I related to Carla the story of my search for my generation’s grandfather, Eugene Michael Dunn. I also told her that he seemed to have disappeared after abandoning his wife, Hazel Nolan Dunn, and two small children, William Edward (Bill) and Rita Jane Dunn, sometime after Rita was born in 1928.

In response, I received the following from her:

"Hey Pat!
We must be related! My grandfather, Leo Peter Dunn, also abandoned his wife and 2 small sons in 1924. My father had no use for the man, and Dad always said, 'I wouldn't recognize him if I saw him and I sure wouldn't walk across the street to shake his hand.'

 My grandmother, Ruth Irene Dunn, remarried and my father took his stepfather's last name. I never met the Dunn side of the family, I heard bits and pieces growing up and I should mention that what information I did hear was not flattering.

 During a visit with a Great-Aunt, she showed me a picture of my grandfather, a wedding certificate and an excerpt from my grandmother's diary. That started my search, from just those few items.

 I was told my grandfather died in a car wreck in Colorado during WWII. I spent at least 10 years looking for that man!

 Surfing the Web one evening, I came across his name in the California Death Index. Thru an 'Act of Genealogical Kindness' I received a copy of his Death Certificate. He died of TB in Los Angeles, in 1942.

 He claimed no family, and no family claimed him. Instead of a simple burial, his body was used for medical research. Over the past 5 years, information about him has trickled in. I've discovered he was a 'Con Man.' He married one woman, told her he had never been married, never had children and his parents were dead. Then he stole her car, sold it and disappeared. The general family consensus is - being used for medical research, he may possibly have contributed something positive - finally...."

♦♦♦

From his great granddaughter, Jeane Means:

"Dear Pat,
My name is Loretta J. Means [she goes by Jeane], I am Peter Fredrick Dunn‘s (1917/1980) granddaughter. I am looking up family names and typed in Leo Peter Dunn and found your site. We have people in common. We have always wondered where Leo went after his abandoning grandpa Dunn and Frank, and to find this out is a blessing.

Frank took [the] Myers name but his mother’s maiden name is Gray, from Culver, Salina Co. Kansas. I have all of her information. Her parents are buried in Culver Cemetery, Fred and Daisy (Herrington) Gray. She, Ruth Irene (Gray) Myers is buried around Parsons, Kansas and I have some of that information. She died in 1979.

You can reach me at [phone number snipped] here in Kansas anytime; this is a cell phone which is glued to my hip, lol.

Thank you for posting this.

Loretta J. Means"

Jeane is my generation’s 4th cousin.

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Footnote about the Massachusetts Coast Artillery:

Never having heard of the Coast Artillery, I did a bit of research and found the info below. Bottom line: The Massachusetts Coast Artillery was a volunteer militia dating back to 1784, and was a precursor to what we now know as the National Guard.

From a book titled, "The Old First Massachusetts Coast Artillery in War and Peace" comes this excerpt:

"...Who was then sufficiently far-sighted to foresee that on June 30, 1916, the same company would take the Federal oath as the '1st Company, Coast Artillery Corps, National Guard of Massachusetts' ? A company in those days was commanded by a captain with the rank of Major; and this office was promptly conferred upon John Jones Spooner. Jonathan Warner became the 'Captain-lieutenant,' and Joseph Pierpont and John Swift were elected the other two lieutenants, as at that time authorized.

Warrants were issued to four sergeants; four musicians were appointed, twenty-four men were detailed as cannoneers, eight as pioneers, three as drivers and when two brass four-pounder cannon had been issued to them, the Roxbury Artillery were ready for any kind of a fight or frolic. It was not to be until Aug. 30, 1849, that Gen. H. A. S. Dearborn would suggest the famous motto now borne by the Company, 'In time of peace prepare for war.' No one can question however but that the sentiment of the motto has always controlled 1st Company activities."

The book says the Coast Artillery became largely ceremonial at some point - called upon for parades and such - but was reactivated as a military force in 1916, as cited above. The timing was undoubtedly a result of the fact that what became known as World War I was underway in Europe. In 1916 the U.S. was not yet involved in the war, but the looming possibility of U.S. involvement - which occurred in 1917 - must have triggered the reactivation.

The book from which the above excerpt comes can be read online by clicking here. To turn the pages forward or back, click on the right or left page of the book as it appears on the monitor. Clicking on the "+" sign at the top of the page enlarges the print and allows for scrolling the pages.

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So there you have it. Both Leo Peter and Eugene Michael Dunn - grandsons of Michael and Bridget Grace Dunn - abandoned their wives and small children in the 1920s. We'll bever know why, but it seems very strange to me.

Please refer to the disclaimer on the index page of this blog for a statement regarding the accuracy of - and documentation for - the information presented in this blog.

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Last updated 6/15/2012

Index and Links as of March, 2011

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