Guiding Questions

Evidence and Interpretations

     This is a pretty sparse file, with most of its contents apparently culled sometime over the past 100 years.  Despite its slimness the file offers some fascinating nuggets, including the following:

     Why did Bailey give $200 in cash to his grandson, $443 in cash and property to his daughter Lucy, and nothing to his other children William C. and Mary?  We're not exactly sure, but suspect it was partly because his grandson and daughter Lucy helped care for him and wife Margaret during their declining years, when Bailey was virtually housebound and bedridden from his many physical ailments.  And, because William C. and Mary didn't.  This file strongly suggests that the sisters Lucy and Mary did not get along.  And, that Bailey was largely estranged from two of his three children.  Why?  There's a deeper story here.  (Bailey T. Baldwin, Minneapolis Tribune, 2 July 1899; date of photo unknown)

     Who was this unnamed grandson?  Lucy evidently had no children.  Mary McRay had only one child, as far as we know:  Laura E. McRay (b. 1879).  Thanks to Jeane Morneau DeCoursey (Bailey T. Baldwin's great-great granddaughter who lives in Brooklyn Park MN), we know William C. Baldwin had five children, their names, and their birthdates.  In the inventory of documents, below, there's a reference to a "Receipt of Chas. B. Baldwin."  One of William C.'s son's was named Charles B.  It thus seems certain that this mysterious grandson was William C. Baldwin's eldest son, Charles B. Baldwin, born in July 1882, and 22 years old when his grandfather died and left him $200, around one-third of the estate.  (Charles B. Baldwin, grandson and legal heir of Bailey T. Baldwin, a year or two after Bailey's death; photo courtesy of Jeane Morneau DeCoursey; for photos of gravestones of Charles B., Olga & William C. Baldwin, click here)

     Interestingly (and as pointed out by Jeane Morneau DeCoursey), Bailey T. Baldwin misidentified his son in his will.  Instead of "William C. Baldwin" -- his son's name -- he listed among his "next of kin and heirs-at law" William B. Baldwin -- that is, his grandson.

     Why?   Jeane thinks Bailey meant to refer to his grandson, William B. Baldwin - that he named his grandson, and not his son William C., as his legal heir-at-law.  She also thinks that Bailey took this harsh action because of William C.'s behavior toward his daughters.  As Jeane tells it, in Nov 1899, William C.'s wife Elizabeth, mother of five children, died of ovarian cancer.  William C. then sent his youngest children and only daughters Lillian and Olive, ages 3 and 8, to live with the late Elizabeth's parents, the Perry's.  Bailey, finding William C.'s abandonment of his daughters morally and ethically wrong, wrote him out of his will.   (William C. Baldwin, ca. 1890, courtesy of Jeane Morneau DeCoursey)

     Mike, building on Jeane's insights and her inside knowledge of these events, proposed a slightly different scenario.  Here's what he wrote in an email to Jeane (revised & expanded a bit later the same day):

William C. Baldwin and children, ca. 1906, l. to r. Olive Agnes (age 15), Frank J. (19), Charles B. (24), Lillian (10), and William B. (22), and Charles C. Baldwin (50).  Photo courtesy of Jeane Morneau DeCoursey

    So that's the state of the debate.  Mike reckons a greater than 95 percent probability that the wrong middle initial was NOT a mistake but intentional -- Bailey's shrewd and carefully calculated way of not only excluding his son William from his will, but of giving him a swift kick in the pants from beyond the grave.  Jeane doesn't really know, but still thinks it might have referred to Bailey's grandson William B. Baldwin.  We're still trying to figure it out.

MORE QUESTIONS & SOME ANSWERS

     Another obvious question posed by these documents:  who was Anthony Perry?  Jeane says Anthony Perry was the brother of the late Elizabeth Perry Baldwin, who died of ovarian cancer in November 1899 -- wife of William C. Baldwin, and mother of William C.'s five children (b. 1882-1896).  Anthony Perry was thus the brother-in-law of William C. Baldwin, and uncle to William's five children.  (Elizabeth Perry Baldwin, date unknown, ca. 1882, courtesy of Jeane Morneau DeCoursey)

     There's more.  In an intriguing tidbit unearthed by Jeane's husband Bill DeCoursey, the 1889 Minneapolis city directory shows that William C. Baldwin and Anthony Perry were in business together, co-owners of the Perry & Baldwin Charcoal Co. in Minneapolis.  Ten years later (in 1899), according to Bill DeCoursey's research, the company no longer existed.

     Bill also found that in 1889, William C. Baldwin and Anthony Perry both lived on Buchanan Street:  William at 729, and Anthony at 747 -- only a few doors down from each other.  And very close to Bailey & Margaret's house at 716 Lincoln Avenue.  (In 1882, Bailey & Margaret lived at 627 Buchanan, a block away.)  (William C. Baldwin and who we think is his sister Mary McRay and her daughter Laura E. McRay, ca. 1884, courtesy of Jeane Morneau DeCoursey)  

     Given all this, why would Anthony Perry testify at Bailey T. Baldwin's probate hearing?  And what did he say?  Very likely he was asked to testify by Bailey and Lucy's attorney, E. W. Gray.  And that he basically upheld the validity of Bailey's last will and testament, against the claims of Mary McRay, and, potentially, of his ex-business partner William C. Baldwin.  Perhaps he also verified the identity of his nephew and Bailey's grandson Charles B. Baldwin, to whom Bailey bequeathed $200. 

     There's a deeper story here too.  What we seem to have here is a classic falling-out:  two brothers-in-law, also neighbors, probably friends, going into business together, and then, after a while, for whatever set of reasons (probably having to do with conflicts over money) splitting up, dissolving the business, and never speaking to each other again.  That's our presumption anyway, though we don't really know.  Yet.  (Charcoal production, www.dorsetcharcoal.co.uk)

     We need to learn more about Perry & Baldwin Charcoal Company.  Thanks to Bill DeCoursey we know it was located at 627 Central Ave. NE, though we don't yet know the dates of its founding or dissolution.  We especially need to map things out in time and space, to locate all these businesses and residences in relation to each other, to the river, the railroad station, churches, etc.  And look at how that changed, and didn't change, over time.  These maps represent a first stab at such an effort.  (Geo. B. Wright 1873 map of Minneapolis, Library of Congress, www.loc.gov; note that the zones east and north of 716 Lincoln Ave. remain undeveloped)

     So far we've overlooked the most obvious question of all:  How did Bailey T. Baldwin accumulate $643 by the time of his death?  According to his pension file, he'd stopped working by the mid-1890s, and didn't work much from the 1870s onward, on account of all his physical ailments, especially his blindness.  The $12 per month he received from the Pension Bureau was probably not enough for two people to live on.  So how did he and Margaret make ends meet?

Detail of 1867 Panoramic Map of Minneapolis, with Nicollet Island, Central Ave., and future locations of Lincoln and Buchanan Streets indicated; from the Library of Congress, www.loc.gov

     As it turns out, and as Bill's research revealed, Bailey T. Baldwin owned a shooting gallery!  The first reference we have for it is the 1882-83 Minneapolis City Directory:

Excerpt from the 1882-83 Minneapolis City Directory

     There's no address for Bailey's shooting gallery in this 1882-83 listing, but Bill DeCoursey found two other references to it:  in 1889 it was at 48 Central Avenue (a few doors down from Thibodeau Photo Studio; see the mysteries of edward thibodeau), and in 1895, at 907 Washington Ave.  That's more than a dozen years!

     A shooting gallery!  That's how Bailey & Margaret made ends meet!  At least one of the ways.  Speculating in real estate, operating a shooting gallery, Bailey's monthly pension check -- in these and other ways, Bailey & Margaret saved enough to accumulate a modest nestegg and bequeath a little something to their grandson Charles and daughter Lucy.  Shrewd, savvy, resilient, resourceful -- that's the portrait that's emerging of Bailey T. Baldwin, businessman.   (Illustration from www.graphicwitness.org) 

     And honest.  A shooting gallery is a pretty silly way to make a living, if you think about it -- especially for a man who's blind as a bat! -- but it's also very smart, and completely above-board.  Sort of like the video game industry today -- an industry worth billions of dollars:  if people want to fritter away their hard-earned pennies shooting b-b's at painted tin ducks scooting across a cheap stage (or fritter away their hard-earned dollars zapping imaginary aliens scooting across an expensive computer screen), that's their business! 

     So as it turns out, Bailey T. Baldwin, businessman, was not only savvy and honest but prescient, far-seeing, light years ahead of his time!  A pioneer in the field of mindless mass entertainment, and forerunner of today's multi-billion-dollar video game industry! 

     Or, as Bailey himself would likely reply, at least he and Margaret were able to scrape by, together.  And leave a little something to two of the people they loved.

       Sadly, neither Nellie Kinsman Lang Blowe, nor her daughters Jennie Lang Sullivan and Nellie Lang Atkins, are mentioned in Bailey's probate file.  Bummer.  We were sort of hoping they would be.  We thought maybe Bailey would leave them a bit of something.  But no.  He had precious little to give in any case, and by this time they'd probably long drifted apart, their relationship mainly a memory.  A fond memory, we'd wager, one that brought smiles to all who shared it.  Yet only a memory.  (Hennepin Ave., downtown Minneapolis, 1908, four years after Bailey's death, and across the river from the places shown in the maps above; Library of Congress, www.loc.gov)

     Still, we'd also wager that Nellie and her daughters went to Bailey's funeral, held around December 21-22, 1904.  Louise Blowe too.  And Edward & Adelaide & Lucille Thibodeau.  And J. B. Bottineau.  And many, many others.  The former Governor of Minnesota, William R. Marshall, probably would have been there too, if he hadn't died eight years before.

     We'd really love to know who attended Bailey T. Baldwin's funeral.

      But we digress.

     Here's the probate file as we received it, followed by a brief conclusion and more photos.

DOCUMENTS

END OF FILE.

CONCLUSION & PHOTOS

     So we end up, as always, with more questions than answers.  Is there more to this file than meets the eye?  Is there more to it, period?  Do additional documents survive?  Or do others that we are overlooking?  What was Bailey T. Baldwin's intent with his last will & testament?  That is really the question.

     It is a question to which we can offer some pretty confident answers.  It seems clear that Bailey intended to honor his grandson Charles B. Baldwin and his daughter Lucy Doyle, and to exclude his other two children William C. and Mary.  Burial patterns bear these affective relations:  Bailey & Margaret were buried side by side in Hillside Cemetery, and Lucy only a few plots away (they probably tried to get adjacent plots but couldn't; see hillside blues).  William C. was buried in St Anthony Cemetery in a lone plot.  William C.'s son William B. was buried in Sunset Memorial Cemetery next to his wife Olga (see baldwin gravestones).  We don't yet know where Mary McRay was buried, but it wasn't near her parents or siblings.

     Bailey's probate file, in combination with other evidence, thus helps us to build a rounder and richer portrait of Bailey & his family at the turn of the century -- about the most anyone can hope from any such file. 

     We conclude this page with a number of photographs -- including some mystery photographs that we haven't seen before! -- (though some we've seen, in whole or in part) -- all courtesy of Jeane Morneau DeCoursey (photos are thumbnailed so this page doesn't take forever to load and you can get a close look). 

     The first photo, taken around 1906 or 1907, shows William C. Baldwin and his five children

William C. Baldwin and children, ca. 1906.  From left to right Olive Agnes (b. 1891), Frank J. (seated, 1887), Charles B. (standing, 1882), Lillian (1896), William B. (standing, 1884), and Charles C. Baldwin (1856).  Photo courtesy of Jeane Morneau DeCoursey  (click on image for larger view)

     The second photo, also taken around 1906, is of Jeane's grandmother Olive Agnes Baldwin:

Olive Agnes Baldwin, age 15 (1906).  Photo courtesy of Jeane Morneau DeCoursey  (click on image for larger view)

     The third photo, a portion of which appears above, is of these children's mother, and William C. Baldwin's wife, Elizabeth Perry Baldwin, who died in 1899 after a lengthy battle against ovarian cancer:

Elizabeth Perry Baldwin, ca. 1882.  Photo courtesy of Jeane Morneau DeCoursey  (click on image for larger view)

 

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     A fourth photo, a tintype just sent by Jeane, features, we suspect, none other than Marguerite Bleau dit Rossignal Bottineau Baldwin.  Jeane thinks that this photo might have been taken at Fort Abercrombie in the summer of 1862, soon after Margaret had joined her husband Bailey, right before the Great Sioux Indian Uprising and siege of the fort. 

     As Jeane pointed out, it was common at the time for itinerant photographers to travel from fort to fort and camp to camp, snapping cheap tintypes of soldiers, their wives, girlfriends, etc.  Jeane and Bill are pretty convinced that this is indeed Margaret.  They also think she looks like she might be pregnant.  If so, only a few months later she would give birth to her youngest child, Mary Baldwin (later Mary McRay, b. Sept 28, 1862 at Fort Abercrombie, at the height of the siege).

     Compare this image with the one in the modern leather-stocking tale, and tell us what you think:

Marguerite Bleau dit Rossignal Bottineau Baldwin (we think), ca. 1862 (tintype), courtesy of Jeane Morneau DeCoursey  (click on image for larger view)

     We'll make it easier by placing close-ups of these photos side-by-side.  If they are both Margaret, there'd be about 37 years separating them:  the tintype would be from around 1862, the newspaper photo from around 1899 (and yes, we too wish we had a higher quality reproduction of the Leather-Stocking Tale photo, but we don't so quit whining about it):

Well?

     This just in:  Bill DeCoursey's father, William L. DeCoursey, has worked in the photography business for over 50 years, as both a hobbyist and a professional, working for National School Pictures (later Lifetouch Studios) and other firms.  Over the years he has developed a high degree of expertise on different types of photographs (daguerreotype, tintype, etc.) and the periods in which various techniques were developed and used.  He's also very familiar with changing fashions, estimating the ages of photographic subjects, and in general with dating old photographs.  He is, in short, an expert in the field.

     In the opinion of William L. DeCoursey, this is unmistakably a tintype photograph that dates to the early 1860s.  The woman in the photograph, in his estimation, is in her late 30s or early 40s. 

     All of this matches exactly what we would expect to find for Margaret Baldwin.  Further, everyone in the DeCoursey family who's examined the two photographs feels that there is a very strong resemblance between the women they portray.

     In other words, the evidence is very strong and compelling that this is indeed a photograph of Margaret Baldwin, taken at Fort Abercrombie in the summer of 1862, when she was pregnant with Mary (Mary McRay).

     Wow.

     A fifth photo, another tintype:

Tintype, subject & date unknown, courtesy of Jeane Morneau DeCoursey (click on image for larger view)

 

     Who is this mystery man ? ? ?  William C. Baldwin?  Bailey T. Baldwin??  We don't know.  Yet.  Though as you might imagine (having read thus far), we've bounced around a few ideas.

     Bill and Jeane think it may well be Bailey.  They eyes especially, but also the hat, along with the general resemblance between the two photos.  Bill's father dates this tintype to the early 1860s.  If it were Bailey in 1860, he'd be around 40 years old.  Mike has his doubts.  He thinks that the man pictured here has a body build that is too slight for a man 5' 11" tall, and who would weigh 230 pounds within the decade.  Also, that this man is younger than 40, and has a face, head, and body too different from the 1899 photo.  But he doesn't really know.  Forty years is a long time, and the eyes in particular do bear a strong resemblance.  Could it be Bailey?  Or perhaps his son William C. in his late teens? 

     Judge for yourself (we're trying to secure a better copy of the 1899 photo):

Well ? ? ?

( we could really use some help on this ! )

     Finally, Jeane kindly sent us a couple of other photographs that launched Mike on yet another one of his puzzle-pursuing adventures, recounted here in the mysteries of edward thibodeau.  The page explores a pretty remarkable set of connections.

     Speaking of connections, there's one last thing -- and this is kind of spooky.  Tom insists that he remembers seeing the photo of William C. Baldwin and his five children somewhere before.  "I definitely remember seeing it, looking at it, and more than once," says Tom.  He has no idea when, or where.  But he is absolutely certain.  Sometime long ago, when we were kids.  The exact same photo.

     In other words, someone in our extended family once had a copy of this same photograph of William C. Baldwin and his five children -- in a photo album, or a shoebox, or, more likely, prominently displayed on a wall, on a dresser, or on a living room mantlepiece, such that a visiting young boy could see it, study it, and remember it many years later.  Then Jeane sent it to us, and Tom did remember.

     That's the sort of thing that sends shivers up your spine.

     Six years before Bailey died, the Minneapolis Tribune published a long and detailed human interest story on their Sunday Features page, profiling the long and eventful life of his wife of nearly half a century, Margaret Rushenall Baldwin.  It also had some pretty interesting things to say about Bailey's early years in the Upper Midwest.  It's to that long-lost newspaper story that we now turn.

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