So, Grandpa, how'd you end up getting buried in East Potter's field in Deadwood with the likes of Wild Bill Hickock and Calamity Jane not-too-far away? Such a mystery man you were in life. Thanks to census records, it was discovered that you were born to a fairly well-to-do family in Philadelphia. You met an immigrant English girl named Jenny Fairhurst and married her when you were 21 and worked as a budding telegraph operator. You lived with Jenny and her family on Buckius Street in Philadelphia---perhaps there was a rift with your family over the marriage. Three children were born to you and Jenny in the 1880's: Maurice; Vera; and Margaret. Somehow you left them and your Philadelphia life behind, "losing yourself" in in Dakota Territory. You were a traveling salesman when you met pretty little Mabel Crabbe (perhaps in Chicago where she lived with her mother and siblings), and you were bowled over by her youth and innocence. The Kansas Marriage Certificate said Mabel was 22 and you were 38 (actually you were 51!) Such a mystery man you were. Five years later in 1913, a son named Richard Reynolds Spain was born to you and Mabel in Fargo, North Dakota. You lived in various locations in South Dakota, including Aberdeen in the 1920's. There is a picture of you, Mabel, your son Richard and several friends, Jack and Marion Hart, hamming it up for the camera somewhere by the side of the road near Aberdeen, South Dakota where you lived. The marriage to Mabel did not last. You sold insurance and somehow ended up estranged from your second family, and living in Lead, South Dakota in the early years of the Great Depression working for "a man named Tackaberry." You died from heart disease and were buried at Mount Moriah in East Potter's field. How sad, Grandpa. You probably thought no one would unravel the mystery. But letters were saved, documents were discovered, and the internet was born. You're not quite such a mystery man after all.
EPILOGUE
By the way, Grandpa, your first wife Jenny died in 1920 after a hard life raising 3 children; your second wife Mabel married a farmer named Vern Vine----she died at 53 after an operation; your son Richard changed his last name to Vine and went on to live a long life, achieving some artistic success as a singer on the Broadway stage in the show "Kismet. Your son, my father, shared with me one of his fondest memories of you: when he had severe earaches as a very little boy, you would play Massenet's "Meditations from Thais" on your violin to soothe his sleeplessness.
RIP
EPILOGUE
By the way, Grandpa, your first wife Jenny died in 1920 after a hard life raising 3 children; your second wife Mabel married a farmer named Vern Vine----she died at 53 after an operation; your son Richard changed his last name to Vine and went on to live a long life, achieving some artistic success as a singer on the Broadway stage in the show "Kismet. Your son, my father, shared with me one of his fondest memories of you: when he had severe earaches as a very little boy, you would play Massenet's "Meditations from Thais" on your violin to soothe his sleeplessness.
RIP
So, Grandpa, how'd you end up getting buried in East Potter's field in Deadwood with the likes of Wild Bill Hickock and Calamity Jane not-too-far away? Such a mystery man you were in life. Thanks to census records, it was discovered that you were born to a fairly well-to-do family in Philadelphia. You met an immigrant English girl named Jenny Fairhurst and married her when you were 21 and worked as a budding telegraph operator. You lived with Jenny and her family on Buckius Street in Philadelphia---perhaps there was a rift with your family over the marriage. Three children were born to you and Jenny in the 1880's: Maurice; Vera; and Margaret. Somehow you left them and your Philadelphia life behind, "losing yourself" in in Dakota Territory. You were a traveling salesman when you met pretty little Mabel Crabbe (perhaps in Chicago where she lived with her mother and siblings), and you were bowled over by her youth and innocence. The Kansas Marriage Certificate said Mabel was 22 and you were 38 (actually you were 51!) Such a mystery man you were. Five years later in 1913, a son named Richard Reynolds Spain was born to you and Mabel in Fargo, North Dakota. You lived in various locations in South Dakota, including Aberdeen in the 1920's. There is a picture of you, Mabel, your son Richard and several friends, Jack and Marion Hart, hamming it up for the camera somewhere by the side of the road near Aberdeen, South Dakota where you lived. The marriage to Mabel did not last. You sold insurance and somehow ended up estranged from your second family, and living in Lead, South Dakota in the early years of the Great Depression working for "a man named Tackaberry." You died from heart disease and were buried at Mount Moriah in East Potter's field. How sad, Grandpa. You probably thought no one would unravel the mystery. But letters were saved, documents were discovered, and the internet was born. You're not quite such a mystery man after all.
EPILOGUE
By the way, Grandpa, your first wife Jenny died in 1920 after a hard life raising 3 children; your second wife Mabel married a farmer named Vern Vine----she died at 53 after an operation; your son Richard changed his last name to Vine and went on to live a long life, achieving some artistic success as a singer on the Broadway stage in the show "Kismet. Your son, my father, shared with me one of his fondest memories of you: when he had severe earaches as a very little boy, you would play Massenet's "Meditations from Thais" on your violin to soothe his sleeplessness.
RIP
EPILOGUE
By the way, Grandpa, your first wife Jenny died in 1920 after a hard life raising 3 children; your second wife Mabel married a farmer named Vern Vine----she died at 53 after an operation; your son Richard changed his last name to Vine and went on to live a long life, achieving some artistic success as a singer on the Broadway stage in the show "Kismet. Your son, my father, shared with me one of his fondest memories of you: when he had severe earaches as a very little boy, you would play Massenet's "Meditations from Thais" on your violin to soothe his sleeplessness.
RIP
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