31 days of stories: a birthday

My grandfather, Frank John Kennedy, was born on this date, October 7, 1905 in Prince George's County, Maryland (PG County to the natives). My daddy told me stories about his father, but his memories were limited to the first 13 years of his own life. Frank died in 1964 when my dad was on the cusp of his teenage years, forcing him to become the man of the house and care for his mom, granny, and three younger brothers. Dad always spoke proudly of his father's work ethic, but said that he worked long hours. When he was little, Dad would sometimes not see his father for days. Frank would go to work at his car dealership early before his sons were awake and often would come home late after everyone was in bed.

Dad would tell a story of one night when his parents were downstairs after the boys had "gone to bed", that he and his brothers were in fact not asleep at all. They thought it would be fun to try and scale the walls of their narrow hallway in their home in Lothian, Maryland. Of course, boys being boys, they could not do this without making an awful lot of racket, drawing the attention of their parents. When they heard Frank climbing the stairs, no doubt to discipline his sons for not being in bed, they quickly climbed higher. Reaching the top of the stairs and seeing an empty hallway, Frank happened to glance upward to see his three boys near the ceiling, one leg on each wall, giggling hopelessly. Frank was so amused that he went back downstairs without a word, but Dad always said from his position he could see the enormous grin on his father's face as he turned to go. Even though the 1950s was known to produce fathers who were strict and intolerant, I like to think from this story that Frank genuinely enjoyed his family.

I've tried to do research on Frank Kennedy, but I just can't find much. My largest brick wall in my whole family tree is that of Frank's paternal line. All I have is his father's name on his death certificate: Frank Kennedy. Do you have any ideas how many Frank Kennedys were in DC at that time? A lot. Not to mention most general newspaper searches for the name Kennedy in the 1960s result in articles about the American royal Kennedy family.

His mother is listed as Alice Dunster on the death certificate. She was very hard to track down, but I did eventually manage to map out pieces of her life. She was born Alice Fitzpatrick in Pennsylvania in 1879. Her mother was Eliza Fitzpatrick and in the 1910 census, Frank Kennedy is listed in her household as her grandchild. This was my confirmation that Frank was connected to the Fitzpatrick family. I cannot, however, find a trace of Alice and Frank ever living together, so I am completely unsure of their relationship.

I found Alice's last will and testament, which had multiple changes and dates to it, but it also proved useful in confirming the relationship. The name in the will is Alice Dunster (at some point Alice married George Dunster). The Dunsters lived in Washington DC and were mentioned many times in the newspaper as respectable landlords. The will says that her mother, Eliza Fitzpatrick, is to be her beneficiary and Frank's guardian until he comes of age. She specified that Frank cannot inherit anything until he is 25, a very specific age and several years above the typical adult age of 18. Eliza died in 1922 and the will is changed to reflect Alice's sister, Beulah Brewer, as the beneficiary. Alice died in 1929 in Garfield Hospital in DC from a stroke. She was only 46.

In 1930, Frank married Gertrude Grabis and they had three children, one of whom is still living. Gertrude died in May 1949 and Frank married my grandmother, Sherlene Pitra, in December of that year. I recently connected with a first cousin, the daughter of one of Frank's children with Gertrude. It was the first time I had managed to find a living descendant on my father's side. We have corresponded and hope to meet one day.

Frank Kennedy is buried at Our Lady of Sorrow Catholic Church in West River, Maryland. Most of what I discovered was through research based on tidbits of information I learned from my dad over the years. Now that my daddy is gone, it's so important for me to document my findings. Oral tradition, although not always accurate, is a huge resource for genealogists. I'm grateful for the stories Dad shared with me. I spend so much time looking for the stories of strangers, I often forget to look at the stories in my own family tree.