Half Irish. That would be on her Punch side. This is Ruth Vanda Punch, who married Henry's grandson, Harry Osborn. She's here on her porch in Hemlock, 1917, with her first child, Chuck, still inside. She loved cats, kids, and Harry. They met at a chicken barbecue in Lakeville, must have been in warm weather, say summer; married in December, 1915.
In Rochester City Directories, there are a surprising number of Punches, going back to the time of the potato famine in Ireland, mid-19th century. Why did they up and decide to come to Rochester, New York? California was wide open. I'd love to know why upstate NY, land of brutal winters, but some Punches chose there for starters. I see plenty of Patricks, Williams and Richards and I don't know who's the ancestor, who's the cousin. I do think they were all one family.
I can trace Ruth's grandfather back to my great-great-grandfather, Patrick Punch and his wife Susan. They definitely had a son named William Vincent Punch, and that V in the middle was the distinguishing feature of all the names he gave his children: Raymond V, Rena V, and Ruth V. "Eliminate future confusion" was his policy.
Patrick made his living driving a hack. So did Susan. I think these hacks might have been hearses, at least some. I put this together because another William Punch (father? uncle?) ran an undertaking business, and who better to cart bodies around than a member of the family who was also a hackman?
William V. Punch, who managed the picture frame department at a local store, died while walking along the Lehigh railroad tracks one night in October, 1902. He was heading for Conesus, where he was to get a loan that would allow him to repay a debt that was due. In the dark, he wasn't seen and was killed by a train. "He had not been himself for a couple of days," reported the Rochester Democrat and Chronicle. But in the headline, readers were assured, "No Evidence That He Intended to Commit Suicide."
His widow, Anna Punch, was left with three small children. My grandmother was seven. They lived in the home of Anna's parents, George and Sophia Sans, at 40 Martin Street, across from the Bausch & Lomb factory, which is where Ruth grew up. She was raised Catholic. When she was about 16, 1911 or so, Anna moved the family to Lakeville.
This is Anna, 1914.
So Harry and Ruth catch each other's eye at this chicken barbecue in Lakeville, where Anna moved her brood after her parents died. She might have relocated in order to live more cheaply in a home she rented from her half sister, Louise Nelson, and to be closer to her half brother, John Nelson. Ruth knew him as Uncle Johnnie; "he was like a father to us kids." He had a cottage on Conesus Lake.
Maybe he's the one throwing the chicken barbecue. I'd like to know if Harry crashed the party or was invited. And what was the first thing he said? What's a girl like you doing in a place like this. She perhaps replied, Funny you should ask because what are the chances? Both of us were born up in Rochester and because our parents died, we're sitting here eating chicken on the shore of the farthest west Finger Lake in New York, USA. Not Ireland.
Nah, they didn't talk about anything like that. They were twenty years old and they were there to have fun. I like to think they just wanted to cut to the chase and marry each other. It's only a future generation 97 years later that sits here in West Newton, Massachusetts, pondering how the sparks must have flown, trying to sew it all together, wondering if they ever knew how good they'd be for each other, what great kids they'd have together. I'm so glad they met.
While Harry was managing multiple small businesses (the Lakeview Fur Farm, Rochester Ice), Ruth started her own business: The Flower House in Lakeville. Only a copywriter can appreciate that she called it a flower house. She had a sign out front: Ruth P. Osborn, Florist. She ran small space ads in The Livonia Gazette. When business expanded beyond their basement, Harry and Unk built her a greenhouse where I spent many fragrant hours. Her business came mostly from funerals, it seems. She made money when somebody died.
She bought her flowers from a nursery in Lima, where the soil was great for growing nearly anything. As Henry could have told her.