Perserverance, Persistence, and Plain Pestering!

Submitted by: HOST GFS CheriM@aol.com
Cheri Mello, Portuguese Host, Genealogy Forum on AOL

When I began the quest for the village of my Portuguese immigrant ancestors in 1992, I didn't have the correct information to begin with. I had some names (but not the right ones), I had some dates (but not the right ones), and I had a vague place. Unfortunately, I didn't know that I had the wrong names or the wrong dates. Research slowly revealed that.

Being a teacher, the first thing I did in 1992 was to go down to my public library and checked out some books on genealogy. Then I signed up for a genealogy class, offered through the adult school. Then I went to the FHC. I decided my first line would be my immigrant ancestors, especially since I knew my great-grandmother.

That was probably my first mistake. I should have started with something easy, like an American branch. I checked the census (the 1910 was the only one available at that time and they weren't there; nor were they there when the 1920 came out. I haven't checked for them yet on the 1930). There were no state censuses for Massachusetts or California for the years I needed. I checked the city directories and went back to the census. Nope, some 60 year old lady was there, and said she owned the property free and clear. No luck. So I checked the passenger lists (I didn't know I had the wrong name). Not there. I had bothered my father with questions as well as his uncle. His uncle gave me the address of a cousin who was a nun in Rhode Island. I flew out to see her.

I did get some information from her. I came back to California and started to check out those leads, or misleads, whichever the case may have been. At times I put my immigrant ancestors on the back burner and researched other lines. But then, the questions would start bothering me again, so I brought them up to the front burner. OK, I'll try the baptism records of their four sons. I drove 2 hours to Redlands and stepped out into 97 degree heat. I found that they were there at that church, but no village from overseas.

Then I heard about a woman, Rosemarie Capodicci, who was speaking on Portuguese research at the SHHAR conference at a college about an hour away. I drove to hear her seminar. About 2 months later, I heard of another seminar up in Sacramento, given by Doug da Rocha Holmes. I flew up to hear his.

For nine months, I persevered, working my immigrant ancestor diligently. I did everything Rosemarie and Doug suggested. I even bought a ticket to the Azores, because all the responses back from there said they couldn't find my ancestors. Also, since the INS was taking so long, I got my father to go to the court where my great-grandmother naturalized. He found her "2nd papers." It gave me the final lead I needed, which her place of marriage: New Bedford, Conn.

Well, since my great-grandmother was only 13 when immigrating here, and didn't know how to read or write, I figured out it was probably New Bedford, MA. So the next morning I got up and started calling all the Catholic churches in New Bedford, asking if they were in existence in 1905.

I hit pay dirt on the second church I called. The church existed, and not only that, if I could give the names and date, he would check the book. I gave him the info and he came back to the phone and said that yes, there were indeed married there. I told him I would be flying back to New Bedford in two weeks. He said he'd have a certificate ready.

When I arrived at the church two weeks later, he presented me with a small, standard Catholic certificate in an envelope. Manuel Mello married Maria da Gloria Correia on Sept. 5, 1905, by Fr. Vierra. The witnesses were Joseph Mello and Maria da Conceição.

I looked at the certificate. It was rather disappointing. And I still didn't have my town. But knowing that some church records hold a whole lot more information than the certificate states, I persisted, pressing the priest for more information.

"Can I see the book?" I asked.

"No," he said, "it's an invasion of privacy."

"An invasion of privacy? But they're dead. How I can I invade their privacy if they are dead? I can prove to you they are dead. I have their death certificates right here."

So I started digging out the certificates. I placed my book, "A History of the Azores Islands" on his desk. He picked it up and started looking at it. "It's 45 years worth of historical research," I said.

I handed him the death certificates. He still said I couldn't see the book. "But, the INS lets me see any records on anybody if I can prove they are dead," I persisted. "I'm not the INS," he said.

I was determined to see that book. So when all else fails, act like a kid and start pestering the living daylights out of someone. I can do that real well. I have students pester the living daylights out of me. Time to act like them.

"Why did you put Correia on the bride's last name?" I asked. He went to the book, took it out of the vault, looked at it, and replied "Because you said that was her last name."

"But that wasn't stated in the marriage?" I asked.

"No, it wasn't." He started to put the book back in the safe.

"Well, what about the witnesses?" I asked. "Does it state their relationship to the bride and groom?"

The phone rang. So he came back to the desk, with the big marriage book and set it down to answer the phone. I started to read it, upside-down. It was in Latin, but I could tell it followed a certain format. He saw me trying to study the page, placed his finger in the book, and closed it. I was about ready to take my bag and bonk him on the head.

"What was the question?" he asked, after he hung up the phone.

"Does it state the relationship of the witnesses to the bride and groom?"

He opened the book back up and looked. "No, it doesn't." He started to close the book and put it back in the safe.

"Well, then," as I kept up my pestering, "does it say if....."

"Look," he said, rather exasperated, "I can read you the whole thing, but I can't let you see it. It's in Latin, so I'm translating as I go...."

"OK," I responded.

"Manuel de Mello," he began, "a native of Ribeira das Tainhas..."

"What?!?!?! What did you say? Spell that for me." I grabbed the book to look at one of the maps. He spelled the village for me. I marked it on the map. Then he continued with his translation, "and Maria da Gloria, a native also, of Ribeira das Tainhas."

I didn't know whether to kiss or kick the priest at that point. I decided on neither, thanked him profusely, and left.

Two days later, I was in the Azores. I asked for the books for the village of Ribeira das Tainhas. I went to the date that I knew as my great-grandmother's birthdate. I found her baptism right there. Over the next two weeks, I accumulated 7 generations worth of information.

Six years later, as I write this, I have never found the words "Ribeira das Tainhas" on any other document that was generated by my great-grandparents in America. It was though my perseverance of trying all avenues while I researched, persistence in following through, and downright pestering when the need arose. Never give up. It took me 4 years, but I found the village. Don't ever give up.

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