But this visit wasn't just for modern day Montreal, I came seeking the Montreal of the late 19th century and early 20th century. The Montreal of my ancestors, my immigrant ancestors, the Sandersons of Ireland and the Mackisocs of England.
My family at one time was many extended grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, Christmas Eve 40+ would cram into my great grandparents Detroit basement. But time moves on and with the death of my grandfather, my family through moving, marriage, divorce and death had dwindled to just my mother, my brother and I. Missing my grandparents and a new receptionist at work sent me on a genealogy research path that would encompass the last 20 years. Sometimes I feverishly troll the internet and then months go by before I start to pick it up again
I was lucky, I knew both my Mackisoc great grandmother and Sanderson great grandfather. She of poor eyesight and poorer hearing still jumped rope with her great grandchildren and let us play beauty shop with her as the unfortunate client. He could build anything and today I have several pieces of his furniture in my home, even in his early 90s he was a card sharp, you didn't want to play the wrong card in Euchre. But from the time I was born til their deaths a year apart when I was 18...that is what they were to me, lovely old people who lived with my grandparents.
Of course any adult will tell you they lived a life well before the kids came along. It would take their deaths and the deaths of my grandparents to encourage me to start my own family history search. I wanted to know about them.
I luckily early on my genealogy research I met extended Mackisoc cousins. I learned of the family's long struggle with poverty in England and their immigration to Canada. My great grandmother was one of 6...most who were alive when I was a child. I knew of their home in Lachine and burial in Lakeview Cemetery in Pointe Claire, Quebec.
My great grandfather, Charles Sanderson was a total enigma. I have a photo of him in a kilt in WWI, I assumed his roots were Scottish. It took a chance meeting with a many times removed cousin who casually said, "Scottish? No, I don't think so. Grandad (my great great uncle) always said we were Irish.
I located my great grandfather's birth certificate, and through that the name of my 2x great grandfather, also Charles Andrew Sanderson. I located Charles as a boy on Canadian censuses and his parents Alexander and Fannie ....of Ireland.
On again and off again I would search for this mysterious Alexander Sanderson. What I had to go on from the censuses was slim( so I thought) their names, their religion (Anglican) an address in Montreal (145 McCord) ,nationality, (Irish) and a census enumeration place. Faubourg Ste. Anne, and occupation, laborer.
Two weeks ago as I was getting ready to visit Montreal, I checked my research for Alexander et.al I would like to visit the neighborhood they lived in. I went to google maps, typed in 145 Mccord, nothing. I double checked the address, it was correct. I googled the enumeration of Ste. Anne and found it located in an area, Griffintown. More search and another kind researcher had posted the modern day street names in Griffintown, McCord is now Montagne! I google earth, Montagne and I see....a very rundown house/warehouse in what looks to be a pretty rundown area. The internet tells me Griffintown was once the docks area of Montreal, an enclave of Irish immigrants. Griffintown, McCord Street go on my list of places along with my Mackisoc addresses I knew from growing up we'll check this out on our trip.
I decided to check one other website typed in Alexander's name and a link to genealogy gravesites comes up, gives the name of the cemetery he is buried in Mount Royal. I reached out to the cemetery, Tyler responded with a map of the cemetery showing the gravesite. I knew where my Mackisoc relatives were buried, emailed Lakeview and received the section and location. All set for the search!
On a walking tour of Montreal, I was strolling with the guide. She did the usual, where are you from, why did you decide to visit Montreal. I casually mention my English ancestors and Lachine...and then Irish and Griffintown...that's where my whole trip turned upside down. Megan stops the tour and moves the group to a shady spot. She says I am going to tell you the history of Griffintown and the Irish immigrants who lived there. Did you know the city of Montreal from the 1830s to the turn of the 20th century was built on the backs of the Irish from Griffintown? Buildings, streets, and they dug by hand the Lachine canal? They unloaded the ships at the docks and they lived near the docks as well. Griffintown was so rough no Montreal policeman would go there, in the spring because of the winter icejams, Griffintown would flood to the third floors. Before they arrived in Griffintown the Irish fated no better. With the potato famine, the English were eager to move the Irish to Canada. Boats laden with raw materials from the new world used to be sent back with lumber for ballast...the Irish people were sent instead crammed into the holds live cargo in the place of lumber. A discussion the following day with a Quebec City tour guide confirmed the above with this ominous coda.
"You know the English gave the Irish during the potato famine two options. Stay and die of starvation or get on a ship bound for Canada the so called famine ships."
Bright and early we arrived at Lakeview cemetery. After walking section G gravesite by gravesite it became apparent my Mackisoc great parents were either not buried in the section or their headstones along with toddler Alice were missing. The same was true for the family homestead on George 5, number 158 was now a field surrounded by a chain link fence. Lachine is becoming gentrified. We headed over to the Lachine canal and marveled this very large body of water was dug by the hands of Irish immigrants.
Feeling a little dejected, we turned towards Mount Royal, the mountain Montreal is named for and its hill top cemetery. We drove through the gates and realized this was an enormous cemetery. We found section G4 in a shady spot almost to the very back. We parked and I told David "After Lakeview and graves that were 60 years old missing, I am highly doubtful we will find one that is 137 years old. I looked at the map of the section and counted 6 'rows' back. We walked in the center and started counting rows. I just got to 6, looking down and I almost stumble into a very large monument. I see Sanderson at the bottom and this side says Frannie. I looked and looked again...then started yelling for David. Running around the other side...Alexander died 1881 and Charles 1925 my 3x great grandfather, my 2 x great grandfather. My 3x great grandmother and their infant daughters Bessie and Elsie. We took photos and rubbings of the text too worn. I have seen in movies and TV shows people talking to headstones and always thought it was over dramatic. But in that moment, I started babbling, thanking them for all their sacrifices for our family. I told them I was their 3x great grand daughter. I told them about my brothers children and my cousins and their kids a soldier a student at Alabama and my niece and nephew who liked music and camping. I was laughing and crying and shaking.
We visited Griffintown and their street MxCird (modern day Montagne). Like Lachine Griffintown is being gentrified...Alexander and Frannie's house has recently been bulldozed. We had better luck at the church he was buried at,and to bring everything full circle, where Matilda (English immigrant) married Charles (grandson of Irish immigrants). Today the church is a homeless shelter, the manager welcomed me as I took photos and explained why I was there. He told me they were moving...the church in now upscale Griffintown had been sold to developers...condos would be built there soon.
Just before departing we returned to Mt. Royal. We hiked up to the Chalet du Mont Royal and saw the city from the mountain to the St.Lawrence river docks. From there we made a quick stop at the cemetery and the grave of my ancestors to tell them good bye and let them know we knew their story and we would not forget it...and we would tell their story to keep their memory alive.
Just before departing we returned to Mt. Royal. We hiked up to the Chalet du Mont Royal and saw the city from the mountain to the St.Lawrence river docks. From there we made a quick stop at the cemetery and the grave of my ancestors to tell them good bye and let them know we knew their story and we would not forget it...and we would tell their story to keep their memory alive.
