Twenty years ago this week, wait, what? Twenty years ago? How is that possible? Anyway. Twenty years ago this week, I went on a road trip with my in-laws to Rochester, Minnesota. To be more specific, to the Mayo Clinic. What triggered this memory? Hanging the ornament that both Marie and I fell in love with, and purchased for our Christmas trees. I remember laughing with her, saying that no one will ever know we own the same ornament.
Marie had been experiencing some pretty intense pain in her back, and it was felt by her doctors here in Appleton that she should be examined at the Mayo Clinic with the hope that they could help her.
Appointments were scheduled for December 3-4, and 9-10. I believe we were able to re-schedule the 9-10 appointments, as I know we were not there over the weekend – and most importantly in Rochester for Butch’s birthday on the 8th. The next decision to be made, was Butch, who was just about to turn 84, up to the task of making the drive in unpredictable December weather? I don’t remember how the decision was made, but I was appointed chief driver, and appointment monitor, while Gary stayed at home wrangling our 7 1/2 year old daughter, 4 year old son, and continued to work full time.
We left on Monday, December 2nd, and as I recall the drive to Rochester was uneventful. Marie sat in front with me, and Butch sat in the back seat of his Lincoln Town Car, taking in the rare view from rear seat of his car.
Marie’s appointment schedule was not heavy, and while tests were time consuming, we found time to wander the Apache Mall, and do a bit of Christmas shopping. We also enjoyed having dinner like “old people” at a restaurant that served a cheap, early bird menu. Eating at 4:30 was perfect, as we were always starving by this time of day. Time for real meals were few and far between due to the doctor appointments. Butch thought that fact that we were eating this early was doubly funny. Here we were laughing about eating with the old people, when, well, he was old!
It’s funny, I thought I remembered this trip so clearly, but in reality, it is a series of highlights. One doctor appointment in particular sticks out. Marie was asked to reach as far as she could toward the floor. She promptly complied, bending in 1/2 and laying her palms flat on the floor. The doctor almost fell of his stool. He was not expecting this from a 74 year old woman, who was there to see him for chronic back pain.
As the appointments ended and we prepared to return home, the weather took a turn. Marie and I headed out that evening to get gas so we wouldn’t have to do it the next day. Neither of us had filled up the Town Car before, and we stood laughing in the snow, trying to figure out how to open the fuel door. We finally got out the manual, figured it out and pumped our gas.
The weather had further deteriorated the by next morning, when we headed cautiously out for home. Approaching a stop light, just turning green, a car decided to make a mad left turn in front of us. I held tight, and pushed on the brakes. From the seat next to me was heard “Sh*$T!” while in the back seat, “DA*@&#N” as an involuntary “F#()#@@K” came out of my mouth. Luckily the breaks held, the car stopped, and we didn’t hit anything, and nothing hit us!
As the snow continued to fall, we made our way east on what is mostly two lane state highways. At one point, it became clear that I was going to have to pass a semi who was being extra cautious. Finding my moment I headed out and around, holding the car to the road as we hit the slush and snow. The comment from the back seat. “I always knew you were a good driver!” Reaching Oshkosh though, Butch had had enough. He needed a break, and a meal. OH! We were so close to home. But we stopped and had a quick bite to eat before getting back on the road and on our way to Hollandtown.
Unfortunately the trip to Mayo brought no miracle relief for Marie. She was given meditation tapes, some new medications to try, along with some exercises. Ultimately she learned that she needed to slow down a bit, take care of herself, and when it came to housecleaning, she didn’t need to throw the sofa across the family room all by herself, she could ask for help.
Each year as I put this special little blue bird on the Christmas tree, I think of this trip, the laughter, and even the fear of what the doctors may find. And this year, like I have for the past three years, a second blue bird is hung on our tree. They now hang in the same household. And I want everyone to know it.
The day after Thanksgiving allows me the time to sit and reflect. The food has been prepared and consumed, the dishes done, the house is quiet. Yesterday marked 30 years of Thanksgivings that Gary and I have spent together. The way we celebrate the holiday has certainly changed over these many years – three decades!
29 years ago I spent the day at my new in-laws home. In those days it was a dress up occasion, complete with pantyhose and heels. My mother-in-law roasted her turkey in a Nesco so that she could free her oven for the rest of the meal. Feeling a bit useless as the meal was getting on the table, I wandered into the utility room where my father-in-law was carving the turkey. I have no idea what we talked about, but as I stood there watching him, I snitched a piece of skin. He looked at me, snuck a peak into the kitchen, and helped himself to this forbidden treat. As partners in crime, he continued carving the bird, and we brought it to the table.
1989 was the first year that I prepared the meal. My daughter was almost six months old. One of the traditional sides for my side of the family was a sweet potato dish that my grandmother made, a take on the stereotypical sweet potato side. That year using canned sweet potatoes, and baking them in a toaster oven, I added butter and brown sugar to the dish, and then took it into the living room to see how I had done. Bringing the casserole dish to grandma, i asked her if there was enough butter and sugar. More sugar, she said. So I headed back into the kitchen to add additional sugar. Then headed back to the living room. This back and forth went on a few more times, until she felt that I had the correct amount of sugar added to the potatoes.
1990 was celebrated at my sister-in-laws. Knowing that Marie would have prepared pies and other things to bring for the meal, we stopped at the house on to see if we could help with anything. Butch happily greeted Kate at the door, and had to put her up on the counter to have a look at her. As she had only been walking a few months, she was still a bit unsteady on her feet, and she promptly sat down on a pumpkin pie. Thankfully, for both the pie and her coat, the pie was wrapped in plastic wrap.
In 1993 we had grand plans to host Thanksgiving here in our “new” house. But the summer rains held us up, and when Thanksgiving rolled around, the house was not ready for hosting. It was barely ready for our family consisting of a four year old, and a one year old who had decided to learn to walk the week before we moved in on November 19th. Without real clearance from the city, and with workmen arriving every day at 7:00 a.m., we were in no position to host. In fact, the house was barely ready for Christmas!
The 90s were filled with big family gatherings around our table, as girlfriends, and an occasional boyfriend joined us along with Gary’s older brother and his family. Many times my parents joined with the Fassbenders at the table, swelling the seating arrangement to 20. My dad bonding with Butch’s older sister, and Gary’s godmother over the “joys” of taking prednisone. Or conversations about a dream of traveling to Australia with a favorite nephew. It was during these years that I started to cook two turkeys instead of one large bird. That way there was plenty of dark meat to go around. Thanksgiving day Marie would arrive with a large casserole of her famous stuffing. A bread concoction that she spent days making as it required dry bread, chicken, ground beef, celery, onion, and an apple ground in the meat grinder, and then mixed together with sage, poultry seasoning, salt, pepper, and three eggs, and the reserved cooking liquid from the chicken. My mothers, also famous, wild rice stuffing, also a bread stuffing, but using fresh bread combined with celery, onion, sage, thyme and five eggs – and we can’t forget the three sticks of butter in which you sautéed the onion and celery, filled the cavity of the birds. Tapper Salad fulfilled the role of a sweet side. An old family recipe of marshmallows, Queen Anne cherries, pineapple, and whipping cream. Marie taught me how to make jellied cranberry sauce. Having only made whole cranberry sauce up to this point, she told me to strain the sauce, put it back in the pan, add an additional cup of sugar and boil for another 15 minutes. Voila! The table in those years groaned with homemade goodness.
The new century brought another change as family dynamics changed, in addition to losing both Gary’s dad, and then my father So our table shrunk to six. Then to five when we lost Gary’s mother. This year we were a joyful ten as Gary’s nephew and his family joined us. The table has a different look these days. While the two stuffings/dressings are a constant, our tastes have changed. I no longer make the Tapper Salad. The marshmallows you can purchase in the stores today are just too sweet, and it pains me to spend $10 on canned cherries when we were not really enjoying it anymore. I plan on making homemade marshmallows and trying it again – maybe a 1/2 recipe. As for my grandma’s sweet potatoes, this year I roasted the sweet potatoes to a natural sweetness, and if you wanted a little extra, we put brown sugar on the table for sprinkling. And i put bourbon in the pumpkin pie.
What hasn’t changed is the blessings of family, and the joy of spending time together around the table. Not only on Thanksgiving, but every night that we are together. This time at table is just what our family does. It makes us who we are. A family sharing the blessings of being together and sharing a meal.
I have to be honest, I have not felt much like writing lately. I love words, and I love to put them together in such a manner that they say something, and hopefully speak to people in a positive way. But now, every time I log into the internet I am bombarded by hatred. Words used to promote emotion, but not in a positive way. People publicly resenting family members. People hating Trump, hating Hillary. News agencies creating huge headlines with leading words aimed at their target, hoping to get everyone riled up. People disrespecting our country, and each other. Words used to hurt and to attempt harm.
People are using social media for their platform of tunnel vision opinion. Whether it is politics, or just family, they have the “My way or the highway” attitude. The highway includes deleting “friendships” and blocking that person from ever being your friend again. On social media anyway. What happened to conversation, give and take, sharing of opinions and expertise?
We were taught at a young age to say the chant: “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names can never hurt me.” According to Wikipedia, parents have been teaching this to their children since 1862. The problem is, is that words do hurt.
As we move towards the final days of this campaign period for president. I wish more than ever that people would sit back, and take a genealogists approach to what is being bandied about the web. I wish that they would treat the articles that are so freely shared, as hearsay, until proven otherwise. Research the topic till all records have been exhausted, then publish the findings with fully sourced documentation. Educate people so that at least their opinion is based on some fact.
Words. Words are powerful. Words have always been used to attempt to force an opinion, but have also been used to express love. How many letters have been written then thrown away because the physical act of writing gave the author time to reflect, and give what they were saying a second thought? Posting on social media, responding to social media, is too quick. Too instant. The words have reached the target, and caused hurt, in less time then it would take to lick an envelope.
I am trying to write again. Trying to put words onto “paper.” But as I will with this post, I walk away, come back, proof read it. Make adjustments. Wanting to assure that I cause no harm, and that my words will not hurt. But also that my words will evoke an emotion, a connection, and a response.
Twenty years ago we were in the final countdown to the 1996 Fassbender Family Reunion.
My husband and I planned and held a family reunion back in the early days of home computers, before home internet was common, and “You’ve Got Mail” was the welcome message. Using Creative Writer, a program our children used, and whatever word processing program we were using at the time, I started creating reunion documents.
The date has been set
Never having planned a party of this magnitude, and having no idea how large the task was that we were taking on, Gary and I jumped enthusiastically into planning. The reunion was to celebrate the children, grand-children, great-grandchildren, etc., of Henry and Ida Fassbender. 51 letters were sent out to the families descending from this couple and their eight children: Harold (Fat) b. 1907, Laurine (Ena) b. 1909, Norbert (Red) b. 1911, Bernard (Butch) b. 1912, Mildred (Hunce) b. 1914, Hubert (Cub) b. 1917, Ann (Hank) b. 1921, and Rosemary (Rosie/Foos) b. 1926. 21 responses were returned, and with that, the date was set: July 20, 1996. With the date selected I got busy creating a cute “reunion t-shirt” note using a Creative Writer template, and developing a survey to be included in the mailing. What was asked in the survey? I sadly do not have a copy. But my mother-in-law thankfully saved the t-shirt page.
Schedule of events
With the date set, we reserved the Hollandtown Community Park and pavilion, a photographer was asked to take group pictures, we finalized the activities for the kids, the tour of White Clover Dairy, the place to share photos and memories of past reunions, and the dinner which was catered from Van Abels. Chicken, ham, German potato salad and rolls. The family was then broken up into two categories, one group was to bring dessert, the other a snack/munchie of their choice. As the surveys and reservations came in, I diligently worked on compiling the information that I received, into a family directory, preparing to have a copy available for every attendee. Looking back, I am amazed that my curiosity about family, and desire for a sense of order were apparent even then. I color coded the name tags by family, seven different colors adorned the tags, and helped cousins who in some cases had not seen each other in years, quickly identify, and recognize old friends.
As the event drew closer, Butch and Marie, Cub and Dolores, Hank (Ann), and Hunce, the four remaining siblings, and Stella, the widow of Red, began to make their plans. Cub and Hank were coming from out of town, and would stay for the weekend; making it a true reunion, and allowing lots of time for chats and memories. And a bit of cheese and crackers with their evening beer.
Family Directory
We planned the best we could, but sometimes the “best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” On July 5th Butch not feeling well, went into the hospital, and it was discovered he needed surgery. The surgery was successful, but his tolerance for the morphine they gave him for pain was not. He ended up falling out of bed and breaking his arm. This set his homecoming back a few days. His younger sister, Hank, who had been battling cancer for many years, still was planning on driving up for the reunion. Sadly, she passed away, Saturday, July 13th. Her funeral was held July 16.
The date was set, the planning complete, and these events rocked our world a bit, but we moved forward towards reunion day.
Kids activities
The day was a perfect July day. While we only had 21 people respond with an opinion as to the choice of a date, we had almost a 100% RSVP a response of “yes, we are coming!” The day went off without a hitch, and Butch, just home from the hospital, was able to attend for a short period of time. A good time was had by all. For that I am thankful, because I am not sure I would do it again. But I do have to say, looking at the materials that were saved, we did an amazing job. 20 years later, we surprise ourselves.
I can’t seem to get Martha Wheeler Paine Cook Johnston and her children out of my mind.
I made the comment in my post,A Child Lost, that “I have not been able to find a newspaper article that states the details for [8 year old Henry Hosford Cook’s] funeral. It could have been large and public, or small and private. We may never know, but if I were to bet, I would bet it was small and private.” This past week I was able to find a funeral notice for him, and feelings of sadness rushed back in.
Martha and Hosford had been wintering in Miami, Florida, with Martha’s sister, Lucy, and her family. After the drowning death of her son, Martha, accompanied by her sister and the body of Hosford, began the journey by train up to Oshkosh, Winnebago Co., Wisconsin. The newspaper states that Edward W. Paine met his daughters and grandson in Chicago, and they traveled together on to Oshkosh. In Chicago they were joined by Edward’s sister, Mrs. Edward Wickwire, and her daughter, Martha. I can only imagine the moment when Martha, needing to stay calm, collected, and sane, saw her father at the train station. The relief of being able, in a sense, to hand it all over to him, and no longer have to be so strong, must have been great. She was 32 years old when her son passed away that February in 1927.
The train arrived in Oshkosh, Saturday, February 20, 1927, and a private funeral was held the next day at the Paine family home on Algoma Blvd. Henry Hosford Cook is buried in the Paine Mausoleum at Riverside Cemetery, Oshkosh, Wisconsin. [1]
Martha married Drew Johnston in 1930, and on August 1, 1935, Martha gave birth to a little girl they named Ardra Paine Johnston. Ardra passed away on January 18, 1936 in Olmsted Co., Minnesota. As I stated in my post She Was Hopeful Till the End, Part 2, I had ordered her death certificate from Minnesota. It arrived Monday. Looking at the certificate, I realized that t,his beautiful little girl had been sick a long time. As a three month old baby she had developed an “abscess of right forearm.” This then was added to by an “abscess of the brain.” Martha and Drew took her to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester just before Christmas, and she was first seen by her doctor on December 17, 1935. She most likely spent her first, and only, Christmas in St. Mary’s Hospital, her parents by her side. What should have been a joyous Christmas, was instead filled with fear for the life of their baby girl. Sadly, she passed away at 7:10 p.m., January 18, 1936. How hard it must have been for her father to give the needed information for the Certificate of Death. How awful for Martha, as she must have had moments of remembering a death nine years before. They made the decision to have the baby cremated, and the certificate states that she was “Removed to Minneapolis, Minn.” Another puzzle to work through. Was she buried there? Or was she sent home to be buried in the Johnston plot in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania?
UPDATE: Ardra was laid to rest in the Paine Mausoleum in Riverside Cemetery, Oshkosh. She is resting next to her mother, and brother, Henry Hosford.
Included with the certificate of death was a statement from one of her doctors. He states: “We do not know the cause of this abscess of the right forearm; possibly it was an ordinary skin infection. No particular trauma apparently was involved. The organism concerned was the streptococcus hemolyticus.” [2]
As a mother, my heart breaks for Martha. But her strength shines through again, as she moved forward with her life. She appears to have taken great delight in her step-children, and grandchildren, as there are records of many visits to Florida, and vacations to Europe. And I am sure that there was much delight in the news that a much awaited grandchild was a girl, and that her parents named her Ardra.
SOURCES:
“To Be In Private,” The Daily Northwestern, 19 Feb 1927, p. 14, col. 1-2; digital images, Newspapers.com (www.newspapers.com : accessed 7 Jul 2016).
Olmsted County, Minnesota, death certificate no. 10711, Registration book: 32 (1936), Ardra Paine Johnston; Minnesota Historical Society, St. Paul.
After the divorce, life went on for both Harry H. Cook, and Martha Paine Cook. Martha immersed herself in doing good works in the Oshkosh community while living with her aging parents, and Harry continued, as he had been, traveling from New Jersey to Florida, hoping for a cure.
The official date of the 1930 Federal Census was April 1, 1930. On this date, Martha was enumerated as residing with her father in Oshkosh, her mother having passed away on December 23, 1929. She is stated as being 35 years of age, divorced, with no occupation. Living with them in the family home at 870 Algoma Blvd, is a cook, 52 year old Mary Warnke, and a maid, 20 year old Hildegard Frailing. [1]
Later that year, on December 3, 1930, Martha married Drew O. Johnston, a native of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, a mechanical engineer by trade. [2] I am assuming that they met sometime in 1927, or shortly thereafter. Drew had for decades split his time between Pittsburgh, and wintering in Palm Beach, Florida, where the Phil H. Sawyer family also spent their winters. The Philetus (Phil) Horace Sawyer family are part of the founding families of Oshkosh, and in the late 20s a prominent family in the Oshkosh community. It is certain that the Paine and Sawyer families would have known each other, at the very least on a social level. But how would Martha have met Drew Johnston? On November 19, 1927, Drew’s daughter Elizabeth Meyers Johnston, married Phil H. Sawyer, Jr., in a small private ceremony in Oshkosh, [3] and it is in Oshkosh that this young couple made their home, and lived out their lives.
The Johnston marriage appears to have been a happy marriage, filled with friends and family; travel between Pittsburgh and Palm Beach, along with frequent travels abroad. Drew’s daughter, Betty and her family, and his son Drew M. Johnston and his family, were frequent visitors to Palm Beach. It must have been with great excitement and anticipation that Drew and Martha learned that they were expecting in 1935. Their daughter, who they named Ardra Paine Johnston, was born August 1, 1935 in Pittsburgh. Sadly, she would pass away in Rochester, Olmstead Co., Minnesota on January 18, 1936. [4] For me, Rochester means just one thing, the Mayo Clinic. I have ordered her death record, so time will tell, but it must have been devastating to lose their five month old daughter. Drew and Martha would celebrate 28 years of marriage before Drew passed away in Palm Beach, at the age of 81, December 12, 1958. [5] He was buried in the family plot in Highwood Cemetery in Pittsburgh. [6]
The enumerator of the Atlantic City 1930 Federal Census, visited Harry on April 2, 1930. He was living in the Ambassador Bungalow in Atlantic City, Atlantic Co., New Jersey, listed as being 49 years of age, Divorced, and Retired. He was paying a monthly rent of $333.00, and enumerated with him was 38 year old, Jessie Carter Duncan, a widow, who was living with him in the role of Servant/Nurse, her occupation was enumerated as a Nurse. [7]
News reached Edwin Yule in Alexandria, Indiana, on January 23, 1931, that Harry’s health “had taken a turn for the worse.” Edwin and his wife immediately left for New Jersey, [8] where Harry passed away two days later on January 25th. Unfortunately, Harry’s sister Maud, and her husband, Charles, were in Paris, so his funeral arrangements were delayed, but plans were made to bring his body immediately to Neenah by train, with a stop in Chicago to change trains for the trip north. Executives of the Alexandria Paper Company, and friends of the family met the train in Chicago, and traveled to Neenah together. [9] At some point during the trip, the decision to go ahead with the funeral and burial were made, and the funeral cortege went immediately from the train station that Wednesday afternoon, January 28th, to Oak Hill Cemetery where a brief funeral service was conducted at 2:15 p.m. at the cemetery chapel, by Rev. D. C. Jones the pastor of the Presbyterian church. [10] Harry is buried in the Cook Plot, just to the front of the Cook monument, and the only other full sized grave next to his parents.
Shortly after Harry’s death, on February 3, 1931, Edwin Yule was appointed administrator of the estate. [11] Details of his will were published in the newspaper August 11, 1931, when it was admitted for probate so as to arrange payment of a $50,000 insurance policy to the estate, the insurance was to be inherited by his sister, Maud. The article states that the original will bequeathed one-third of his property to his wife, Martha; one third to his sister, Maud, and one-third to be held in trust for his son, Hosford. “On May 14, 1927, following the death of his child and the filing of a suit for divorce by his wife, the late manufacturer wrote a codicil to the will bequeathing $15,000 to Jessie C. Duncan in addition to all pay due her for services, and the residue to go to his sister. [12] On this same date Edwin W. Yule and Maud Cook Lancaster, qualified as executors of his estate, and as stated above, filed the will for probate. [13]
Maud received as part of the balance of the estate all property, including stocks and real estate. The estate holdings were published in The Alexandria Daily Times=Tribune on February 25, 1933, and were said to include: “one-half interest in home property in Neenah, Wis., one-half interest in seven lots in Orono, [Hennepin Co.] Minn.; certain interests in lumber lands in Canada; 950 shares of common stock in the Alexandria Paper Company; 423 shares in the Phillips Company, of Chicago; 17 shares Anderson Banking Company stock; 13 shares in Manufacturers National Bank, Neenah, Wis., and 30 shares in the Great Northern Life Insurance Company.” [14] On March 17, 1933, the estate was finally settled, and closed. [15] What I find interesting about the above list, is that it does not include any of the physical property that was associated with the Alexandria Paper Company, just common stock shares. But that is a topic for another blog post.
After Drew’s passing, Martha continued to winter in the home that they had shared in Palm Beach. She kept her ties to Oshkosh, spending her summers residing with her niece, and serving as an “Art Center trustee” of what is now known as the Paine Art Center and Gardens, a house museum built and founded by her Uncle Nathan Paine, and his wife, Jessie Kimberly Paine. [16] Martha passed away January 16, 1993, in Palm Beach, Florida. She was 97 years old. She was “laid to rest in the Paine Family Mausoleum at Riverside Cemetery, Oshkosh, Wisconsin on Friday, January 22, 1993.” [17]
I have to admit that I am left deeply saddened by this story. The details are still not fully developed, as court records would need to be reviewed, land deeds looked at, and the total melded together to get a better picture. Over the next few blog posts I will attempt to tell the story of the company that Samuel Andrew Cook built with such pride, hope, and vision.
SOURCES:
1930 U.S. census, Winnebago County, Wisconsin, population schedule, Oshkosh City, Twelfth Ward, enumeration district (ED) 70-38, sheet 28, p. 58A, dwelling 612, family 623, Edward W. Paine household; digital images, Ancestry.com (www.ancestry.com : accessed 25 Mar 2003); citing National Archives and Records Administration microfilm T626, roll 2620.
Johnston-Cook Wedding is Solemnized,” (Oshkosh) The Daily Northwestern, 3 Dec 1930, p. 8, col. 5. Cit. Date: 11 Aug 2004.
“Sawyer-Johnston Wedding Is One of Quiet Charm,” The Daily Northwestern, 21 Nov 1927, p. 16, col. 1; digital images, Newspapers.com (www.newspapers.com : accessed 10 Jun 2016).
“Baby Passes Away,” The Oshkosh Northwestern, 20 Jan 1936, p. 4, col 2; digital images, Newspapers.com (www.newspapers.com : accessed 29 Jun 2016).
Pittsburgh Rites Are Scheduled For Mr. Johnston,” The Palm Beach Post-Times, 14 Dec 1958, p. 10, col. 1; digital images, Newspapers.com (www.newspapers.com : accessed 10 Jun 2016).
“Deaths and Funerals. Drew Johnston,” The Palm Beach News, 17 Dec 1938, p. 24, col. 3; digital images, Newspapers.com (www.newspapers.com : accessed 10 Jun 2016).
1930 U. S. census, Atlantic County, New Jersey, population schedule, Atlantic City, 4th Ward, enumeration district (ED) 1-31, sheet 1, p. 81B, dwelling 29, family 23, Henry H. Cook household; digital images, Ancestry.com (www.ancestry.com : accessed 25 Mar 2003); citing National Archives and Records Administration microfilm T626.
Harry Cook Critically Ill at Atlantic City,” The Alexandria Daily Times=Tribune, 23 Jan 1931, front page, col. 3; digital images, Newspapers.com (www.newspapers.com : accessed 27 May 2016).
“Harry H. Cook Died Suddenly Atlantic City,” The Alexandria Daily Times=Tribune, 26 Jan 1931, front page, col. 7; digital images, Newspapers.com (www.newspapers.com : accessed 24 May 2016).
“Harry H. Cook, Former Neenah Resident, Dies,” (Oshkosh) Oshkosh Daily Northwestern, 27 an 1931, p. 9, col. 3. Cit. Date: 26 Mar 2003.
“Legal. Notice of Appointment,” The Alexandria Daily Times=Tribune, 4 Feb 1931, front page, col. 1; digital images, Newspapers.com (www.newspapers.com : accessed 4 Jun 2016).
Cook’s Sister Gets Large Part of His Estate,” The Alexandria Daily Times=Tribune, 11 Aug 1931, front page, col. 5; digital images, Newspapers.com (www.newspapers.com : accessed 19 May 2016).
“LEGAL. Notice of Appointment,” The Alexandria Daily Times=Tribune, 25 Aug 1931, p. 2, col. 4; digital images, Newspapers.com (www.newspapers.com : accessed 4 Jun 2016).
“Final Report Filed In Harry Cook Estate,” The Alexandria Daily Times=Tribune, 25 Feb 1933, p. 3, col. 5; digital images, Newspapers.com (www.newspapers.com : accessed 4 Jun 2016).
“LEGAL,” The Alexandria Daily Times=Tribune, 13 Mar 1933, p. 4, col. 1; digital images, Newspapers.com (www.newspapers.com : accessed 4 Jun 2016).
“Paine Center Founder Donates Silver Piece,” The Appleton Post-Crescent, 27 Sep 1964, p. A12. Cit. Date: 11 Aug 2004.
Funeral Notices. Martha Paine Johnston,” The Palm Beach Post, 20 Jan 1993, p. 3B, col. 2; digital images, Newspapers.com (www.newspapers.com : accessed 10 Jun 2016).
