Lady Bledzo, Part 1
Poised on a spare desk in the Chicago Avenue Police Station, Lady Bledzo didn’t look like she’d just come from a fight. In her crisp white suit and jaunty tie, with a fur across her lap, she looked like she was ready to go shopping.
But excursions to Wieboldt’s or anywhere else would wait.
There had been a fight, right on the sidewalk, and now there were reporters eager to hear her side of things. Lady Bledzo posed for photos and smiled at their questions.
She was happy to oblige.
Continue reading “Unearthed: Lady Bledzo (Pt 2)”
Lady Bledzo lit up newspapers for two years in the mid-1920s. Like a cabaret version of Billy the Kid, she came from nowhere, made a great scene — and then disappeared. By 1928, there was no trace of her.
She never held a defined occupation. She never got a listing in the census or the phone book. For weeks I’ve been trying to stretch the few available items about her into a full story. I even called in the assistance of Graveyard Snoopette. She, too, was stymied by this mysterious woman.
I have to admit that a full accounting can’t be done. Like Lady Bledzo herself, her story is not tidy nor complete. It will not be contained.
Her name came out of those Chicago Tribune archives. One name, \with many variations to humble the researcher: Lady Bledzo; Rose Bledzo; Lady Rose Bledsoe; Lady Rosa Bledzo; Rose Leonora; Leonore Bleedson; Eleanora Bleedson; and twice, Lenor Grear.
And worse, I’m pretty sure that none of those are her actual birth name.
Fire up the Dusenberg and roll down your stockings. This one is a real lulu.
Continue reading “Unearthed: Lady Bledzo (Pt 1)”
Part 1 of the Inglis family story
Where else would the world-traveling, ship chandling Inglis family land but…Iowa?
Continue reading “Unearthed: The Inglis Family (Part 2)”
When I think about my genealogy subjects — my dead people — I like to amuse myself by picturing a waiting room. By that I mean an actual modern waiting room, full of non-modern people.
Continue reading “The Waiting Room”
From the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, March 13, 1910.
Rev. Shields was my great-grandfather. And Cermak was Cermak.
And in case you wondered what a smartass looked like at the turn of the last century, we have this snip about women trying to get men to sign dry petitions.
© 2019 Tori Brovet/All rights reserved
Instead of writing a blog post this weekend, I spent far too much time listening to Adele and creating a photo album for a past vacation. I knew perfectly well that I was stalling. I was operating in the nostalgia I could handle, rather than the uncomfortable one that actually needed my attention.
Continue reading “Ex Libris”
Do you have your Thanksgiving GOWN ready? And you should definitely have a nice velveteen suit for the big football game.