Genealogists and the curious have been touring cemeteries since time immemorial. Here is a newspaper article about a 1913 tour of Portland’s pioneers buried in the Lone Fir Cemetery in Oregon. That cemetery is still actively offering tours today: see Friends of Lone Fir Cemetery – 2012 Calendar of Events.
Oregonian (Portland, Oregon), 17 August 1913, page 8
Be sure to check GenealogyBank to document the people buried in the local cemeteries in your area. You can often find the final resting places of your ancestors in newspaper obituary records.
Have you been on a cemetery tour recently? How did your cemetery research go?
Macon Telegram (Macon, Georgia), 25 February 1891, page 3
Some newspapers published lists of cemetery inscriptions with biographies of the former local residents, like this article in the Macon Telegram.
Perhaps your goal is to document every person buried in a specific cemetery. GenealogyBank can help you do that.
Simply search using the name of the cemetery; for example the “Lone Fir Cemetery” mentioned above.
GenealogyBank search for “Lone Fir Cemetery”
Up will come thousands of search results showing the names of persons that were buried in the Lone Fir Cemetery. GenealogyBank makes this easy to do.
GenealogyBank is your source for the information you need to document your family history and fill out your family tree.
A 1918 Oregon newspaper has an interesting article about an effort in Portland, Oregon, to enlist farm worker volunteers to help save that year’s crops, due to the labor shortage caused by WWI.
Oregonian (Portland, Oregon), 14 July 1918, page 14
The old newspaper article reads: “Vacation helpers are going to have a big part in saving the Oregon farm crops this year.” People from all walks of life volunteered in this area-wide effort to assist local farmers in saving that year’s crops.
As the historical newspaper article reports: “More than 500 have signed up the enlistment cards volunteering to devote their vacation time to beneficial service at going wages for the kind of work they may be assigned to do.”
Hmm…those enlistment for farm work cards would be a handy genealogical resource for family historians researching ancestors from the World War I era.
Oregonian (Portland, Oregon), 14 July 1918, page 14
The Oregonian’s article showed the above illustration with the caption: “Facsimile of enlistment cards actually signed by well-known citizens.”
One question on the “Enlistment for Farm Work” form was: “Would you ‘rough it’ with other help on [the] farm?”
A volunteer named A. Earl Kenworthy, a 31-year-old undertaker, answered: “You bet your boots.” He was all-in to help.
Did these Portland farm work records survive? Has anyone used them for genealogy research? Where are these old farm work records now?
Every day, GenealogyBank is working hard to digitize more newspapers and obituaries, expanding our collection to give you the largest newspaper archives for family history research available online. We just completed adding 24 million more U.S. genealogy records, vastly increasing our content coverage from coast to coast!
Here are some of the details about our most recent U.S. newspaper additions (we actually added new content to thousands of newspaper titles, but the following is a representative sample):
A total of 152 newspaper titles from 42 U.S. states and the District of Columbia
Newspaper titles marked with an asterisk (*) are new to our online archive
We’ve shown the newspaper issue date ranges so that you can determine if the newly added content is relevant to your personal genealogy research
If a recent addition to our archive interests you, simply click on that newspaper’s title: it is an active link leading to that paper’s search form on GenealogyBank.
In this example in the Historical Newspapers section – limit your search to only the marriage notices. Click on the highlighted topic and only the wedding and marriage announcement articles will appear in your search – saving you time.
Find and document your ancestors in GenealogyBank – the best source for old newspapers & documents on the planet.
“Bloody News – This town has been in a Continental Alarm since Mid-day ….. the attack began at Lexington (about 12 miles from Boston) by the regular troops, the 18th Infantry before sunrise…From thence they proceeded to Concord where they made a general attack…” Stirring news – as gripping as a bulletin on TV. Thanks to GenealogyBank we can read the same newspapers our ancestors read and feel the impact of the news as they lived it. No other site has the depth of coverage found on GenealogyBank. Sign-up now. April 19, 1775 – Attack on Lexington & Concord The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Listen my children and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year.
He said to his friend, “If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light, One if by land, and two if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the country folk to be up and to arm.”
Then he said “Good-night!” and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, Just as the moon rose over the bay, Where swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war; A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon like a prison bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide.
Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street Wanders and watches, with eager ears, Till in the silence around him he hears The muster of men at the barrack door, The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, And the measured tread of the grenadiers, Marching down to their boats on the shore.
Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, To the belfry chamber overhead, And startled the pigeons from their perch On the somber rafters, that round him made Masses and moving shapes of shade,– By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, To the highest window in the wall, Where he paused to listen and look down A moment on the roofs of the town And the moonlight flowing over all.
Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead, In their night encampment on the hill, Wrapped in silence so deep and still That he could hear, like a sentinel’s tread, The watchful night-wind, as it went Creeping along from tent to tent, And seeming to whisper, “All is well!” A moment only he feels the spell Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread Of the lonely belfry and the dead; For suddenly all his thoughts are bent On a shadowy something far away, Where the river widens to meet the bay,– A line of black that bends and floats On the rising tide like a bridge of boats.
Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. Now he patted his horse’s side, Now he gazed at the landscape far and near, Then, impetuous, stamped the earth, And turned and tightened his saddle girth; But mostly he watched with eager search The belfry tower of the Old North Church, As it rose above the graves on the hill, Lonely and spectral and somber and still. And lo! as he looks, on the belfry’s height A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight A second lamp in the belfry burns.
A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet; That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light, The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, Kindled the land into flame with its heat. He has left the village and mounted the steep, And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; And under the alders that skirt its edge, Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.
It was twelve by the village clock When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. He heard the crowing of the cock, And the barking of the farmer’s dog, And felt the damp of the river fog, That rises after the sun goes down.
It was one by the village clock, When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows, black and bare, Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon.
It was two by the village clock, When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock, And the twitter of birds among the trees, And felt the breath of the morning breeze Blowing over the meadow brown. And one was safe and asleep in his bed Who at the bridge would be first to fall, Who that day would be lying dead, Pierced by a British musket ball.
You know the rest. In the books you have read How the British Regulars fired and fled, How the farmers gave them ball for ball, From behind each fence and farmyard wall, Chasing the redcoats down the lane, Then crossing the fields to emerge again Under the trees at the turn of the road, And only pausing to fire and load.
So through the night rode Paul Revere; And so through the night went his cry of alarm To every Middlesex village and farm, A cry of defiance, and not of fear, A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, And a word that shall echo for evermore! For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, Through all our history, to the last, In the hour of darkness and peril and need, The people will waken and listen to hear The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed, And the midnight message of Paul Revere