If you’ve lived in Louisiana most of your life (like I have), you’ve probably heard of Fonville Winans. He took gorgeous black-and-white photographs of Louisiana’s swamps and people while working construction.
What I didn’t know is that he took bridal portraits from the 1940s to the 1980s. The Louisiana State Museum has the collection, and they’ve been posting these beautiful photos online in hopes of identifying the brides (always label your photos). A number of them have been identified (it’s a small state), but three still don’t have names. Anyone recognize these beautiful brides?
Because I like a challenge, I’ve been trying to sort out the LeBlanc family. It’s like tumbling down a rabbit hole after a white rabbit. It just gets curiouser and curiouser.
Josephine Emiline Templet married Etienne Carville LeBlanc. in 1867. Josephine was the sister of my g-g-g-grandmother Anaise Templet. Anaise – I think – was actually christened Marie Heloise. Maybe it was supposed to be Marie Anaise, and the priest wrote it down wrong. I have no idea. All I know is we’re about to get into a trend.
Josephine didn’t go by Josephine. She didn’t go by Emiline. She was Eveline or Evalina.
Her husband, Etienne Carville, didn’t go by Etienne Carville. He was Pete, except on his Civil War draft registration, when he put down his middle name of Carville. Pete worked on the railroad and then became a ferryman in Morgan City.
Pete and Eveline had a lot of kids. I think I’ve blogged before about the confusion involving their names, but I’ll revisit since I’ve learned more. Basically,baptism records record their kids’ names as one thing. Census records completely disagree for the most part. I’ll list the baptismal name first and put the census name in parenthesis.
Onezime Eugenie, 1867 (Olivia in 1880)
Almina Marie, 1869 (Elvena in 1880)
Odille Carmelite, 1870 (Odelia in 1880 – yeah!!)
Clarity Ozemee, 1872 (Clovis in 1880)
Oscar Francois, 1875 (not listed in 1880)
Mary Seraphine, 1877 (Josephine in 1880)
Joseph Arthur, 1879 (Joseph in 1880 and Arthur in 1900)
Peter Clarfey, 1881 (Clifford in 1900)
Eugenie Philomene, 1883 (Jennie in 1900)
So … I know that Jennie – the baby – married Aubin Picou and had children before dying in the 1950s. The rest of the kids were a mystery until I finally traced Peter Clarfey/Clifford only to find that he didn’t go by any of those names later in life.
Clifford – as he was known in a mangled fashion on the 1910 census – married May Bell Bigler and had five children.
May Bell died young. The kids went to live with her relations. Clifford then pops up in New Orleans – as William or Willie – and marries a Catherine Fallosio. They have five children.
In 1929, Clifford/William dies, leaving behind a pregnant widow. The kids – sadly – are sent to.an orphanage.
Even Clifford/William’s kids’ names are confusing. He and Catherine seemed to have had two Williams and two Clifftons as sons.
But Catherine’s story also is a name game puzzle.
Her father was James Fallosio, who served as a deputy in Orleans Parish and seemed to be quick to pull the trigger on his gun. Newspaper reports on those shootings casually mention that James Fallosio sometimes was known as James Sebastian. What the heck?
It turns out that James’ full name was James Sebastian Fallosio, but he sometimes just dropped the surname. Even his kids sometimes listed their last name as Sebastian.
And this is why genealogy is a twisting, winding road of frustration.
James, by the way, died in 1903 during a barroom shooting. Apparently a dispute erupted over some dope that James tried to pass to a prisoner in exchange for money.
I have no idea what name he was buried under. Probably LeBlanc. Just kidding.
I pity any one with the main line of Frioux to trace. It could be Frioux, Fryou, Frillot, Frero or goodness knows what else.
I first came upon the name after discovering that my grandmother’s godfather, Oleus Oscar Montet, had been married before he married my Aunt Louise.
I always felt a little sorry for Oleus. He was always described to me as a very nice man who would give my mother and her sister fruit (a precious thing for a poor family). And he was married to Aunt Louise, who was never described in kind terms. Oleus and Louise had but one child, Paul, who died in his teens.
Ten years before he married Louise, Oleus married Josephine Frioux. She died a little more than a year after the wedding. My guess is that she died in childbirth, but I’m guessing because no one ever told me about Josephine. I stumbled across her in the Catholic record books.
Josephine’s father was Apolinaire Frioux. Her mother was Philomene Gautreaux. Josephine was the only daughter in a family of four children. When she was 14, her father died. Her mother died five years later. Josephine herself was only 20 when she died. I don’t know much about Josephine’s little family. One brother died young. The two other brothers moved to Texas. Frioux/Fryou/Frillot has been a tough name to trace.
The name Apolinaire was interesting to me, though, because Oleus’ mother had a sister who married an Apolinaire Frioux. I wondered if it could be the same man and if he had two families. It turns out he had three families (but all in a respectable way).
I hadn’t been able to make the link until I found a succession record for Celestine Aucoin, Oleus’ aunt and Apolinaire’s second wife. I knew Celestine died in the yellow fever epidemic. I didn’t realize that she had enough property for a succession to be filed.
In 1880, Apolinaire went to the Franklin courthouse to report that Celestine had died on September 24, 1879, leaving behind one (surviving) child, Florestine. Apolinaire wanted to get married again (only a year after burying poor Celestine) and needed to separate out Celestine’s property for their daughter.
Here’s the inventory:
A tract of land lying and being in the parish of St. Mary having two acres front on Bayou Boeuf and containing about 44 superficial acres more of less with adjoining tract to the rear line appraised and valued at $350.
Nine heads of horned cattle.
One small Creole mars (I have no idea what this means).
Total=$452, half of which went to Florestine.
If you read successions, you read a lot about family meetings. I doubt they were as formal as the legal papers make them sound. Regardless, in one description of a family meeting, it was revealed that Apolinaire wanted to marry a Philomene Gautreaux and that it would be his third marriage.
So now I know that Apolinaire was Oleus’ father-in-law and uncle.
I’ve been fairly successful in sorting out much of my family tree, and new information is always coming along to surprise me. The past tends to do that. Just when you think you’ve discovered everything, a new bit of information surfaces.
The one person who is a mystery is my great-great-great grandmother, Anaise Templet Giroir Larose.
I’ve never heard the name Anaise before or since. My grandmother always pronounced it ‘Naise.’ Believe it or not, there were two Anaise Templets born about the same year in Assumption Parish. Who would have thought it?
My Anaise was born to Charles Valsin Templet and Louise Josephine Boudreaux. The 1850 census for Louisiana shows Valsin with his wife, daughters Marie and Anais and baby Charles.
Here’s the little family:
That would mean Valsin and Louise had Marie in 1846, Anais in 1848 and Charles in 1849. Except the baptism records show they had Josephine Emeline in 1846, Marie Heloise in 1848, Charles in 1849, Philomene Victorine in 1852 and Marie Uranie in 1854. No mention of an Anais.
So I suppose that Marie in the census is really Emeline and that Marie Heloise in the baptism records possibly was meant to be Marie Anaise (which means she may have later had a child out-of-wedlock).
I’ll just go to the 1860 census and figure it out, right? Well, there’s a problem with that. Louise seems to have died about 1858. Unfortunately, her succession is listed in the index book at the Assumption Parish Courthouse, but the record itself is missing. The nice clerks at the courthouse shrugged and said an attorney probably took it home and forgot to return it back in the 1800s. Sigh.
After their mother’s death, the children were divvied up among the relatives.
Charles and Anaise went to live with the Besses. Charles Besse was a Canadian schoolteacher who married Louise’s sister Marcelite. The Besses had nine children so maybe they didn’t even notice the two extra ones.
So what happened to Emeline, Philomene and Irene (Uranie)? Well, Louise came from a big family.
Sister Adeline took in Uranie. Half-brother Basile took in Philomene. There were 15 people in Basile’s household so what was one more? Emeline – or Evaline as she later called herself – found shelter somewhere because she soon married.
There’s no clue on what happened to Valsin. I can only assume he gave all his children away, changed his name to Lincoln and bought a really tall hat. Or maybe he died. Yeah, he probably died.
But back to Anaise.
Anaise married (I assume) a man with a rather fabulously alliterate name: Eulice Edmond Giroir. There’s no marriage record that I’ve been able to find, but as they baptized their children, I assume the priest would have insisted on them being married.
They had five children in five years: Augustin, Augustine, Alice, Marie and Valcin. Then Eulice died. My grandmother said Eulice died when the youngest child was just a baby.
Anaise farmed out the children but kept Valcin according to census records. Augustin – my great-great grandfather – either visited her or ended up back with her because he told stories about her going off to work the fields every day while he stayed back at the house with his baby brother. Poor Anaise. She had a very hard life.
Then, in 1895, Anaise remarried. She married a man named Felix Leonide Larose. She would have been close to 50 at the time.
Anaise and Felix are on the 1900 census in Assumption Parish. After that, they disappear. I’ve traced what happened to all of her children (except Valcin; he married, had a few children and vanished), but I don’t know when Anaise died or where she’s buried.
It’s funny isn’t it? I can’t really tell you when Anaise’s parents died, when her first husband died or when she died. I can’t really tell you when Anaise was born or when she married her first husband. Did she only show up to be recorded for the census taker?
Loose ends like that drive me crazy. I so badly want to know the rest of Anaise’s story. Maybe, one day, I’ll stumble across more details.