Some Polish relatives and name changes..

1942 My grandmother, Rose with Mom 

Apparently I wrote this years ago but did not post it to t he blog?  So as I am digging through my computer files to provide information on my Ostrowski relatives, I am publishing this here.  Right now, I believe the Ostrowski's are rattling their bones from Above Beyond as they do periodically asking to be remembered.  This sure would be easier had they not been so evasive about things years before.  And also if I had been more interested as a child growing up amongst all.  But things changed and now over the years,  most all relatives gone, I still try to piece the puzzle of the Ostrowski and other Polish family members.  

Bill Austin, projectionist

Often I'll mention my Polish grandmother, Baba (Rose) or my grandpap, Teofil Kochanowski. Uncle Carl, their son changed his name to Konesky.  This irked Teofil, my grandpap, who would scoff, " big shot can't spell and use his real name, has to try to be English."   Konesky was a name used by others in that area although they were not related.  I believe the name change was to avoid discrimination against the Polish.   It was common for Polish  and other  ethnicities to anglicize their names.

Baba's brother Bill changed his name to Austin from the family name, Ostrowski or Ostroski, depending on who spelled it.  He and his wife Louise had no children so the Austin ends with them. I never understood how he got the name Bill when his official name was Walter?  So who knows how names shifted back then.  

There was prejudice toward immigrants in the 1800's, immigrants who came to the US to work and work they did.  That prejudice usually by the WASPS (white Anglo Saxon Protestants) endured over many years still affecting uncle Carl  in the 1940's.   They all wanted to fit into American society and American ways. They came to work and work they did as laborer's in the coal mines and factories which were a step up to them.  This photo 9of Uncle Bill Austin appeared in the newspaper and it was considered an honor that he ran the projections for the movies at the Liberty theater in town.  That was likely another reason and way Baba and I got to go to the movies every weekend, courtesy of Uncle Bill. 

Despite assimilation hopes, they founded their own Catholic church in our town, St. Mary's. It was separate from the Italian Catholic church, St. Peter's or St. Joseph's, the catch all Catholic Church founded by Irish but where every other Catholic went who was not Polish or Italian. More another time about the churches in our town, but I recall they were on every corner and represented  every denomination, Protestant, Catholic, Orthodox and Jewish. 

I spent lots of time with my grandparents, especially Baba. Any free moment I'd be down the hill, across the tracks to their home. We lived in a small town, although looking back it was the heyday of a booming city--New Kensington, PA population of nearly 20,000. We grew up in the best of times in the 50's and 60's. Today there is nothing in New Ken, the mills closed, the mines closed, the factories moved--all part of the great movement out of the US for cheaper mfg. elsewhere. But in my day New Ken was home to an Alcoa factory and the Alcoa Laboratory, near to Pittsburgh Plate Glass where all my relatives worked at one time in their lives, nearby steel mills Allegheny Ludlum across the river in Brackenridge where my mother's 3rd husband, Barney Degnan worked and Braeburn Steel where my 1/2 demonic brother's father (my mother's demonic 2nd husband) worked.

I was a thoroughbred Polack, with full Polish on my father's side. Remember how the Polish changed and anglicized their names to avoid prejudice, well my father's family name was Ball. I used to be embarrassed by that name as I got older--it seemed odd. Kids teased me. The story is Grandpap Ball was illiterate and could not write his name. When he came to this country who knows what the Polish spelling was, somehow it was shortened to Ball and that's what we used. I have no way to this day to find his real name. I did not see Frank and Anna Ball much although they lived about 10 miles across the river in Harwick, /Spingdale, on rural acreage.

Why I had limited relationship with the Ball's goes back to my birth and the death of my father, 2nd Lt. Lewis S. Ball, Army Air Corps. As I have learned from my membership in AWON (http://www.awon.org/awmain.shtml ) my story is common among my sibling > 180,000 WWII orphans. Dad was a pilot who had a will naming Mom as beneficiary. As a young soldier, he didn't expect death but it was wartime. However, Dad forgot to change the beneficiary on his life insurance policy--it was a bit of money in those days, $10,000. When his plane disappeared and he and the crew were declared dead, see my older post or AWON at http://www.awon.org/awball.html the insurance money went to Baba Ball.

This devastated my pregnant mother. Dad died June 20, 1944 and I was born in November 1944. (Some in AWON friends call this "posthumously born" which would be a comical term if our lives had not been so unfunny mostly. Like how can I be born after death. Anyway the term is to connote our birth after our fathers' deaths.)

I grew up with my mother being very bitter toward the Balls. Baba Rose didn't think too highly of them either and from time to time would have a Polish conversation on the phone with Anna; it was then that I could hear Baba Rose cuss in Polish. she never spoke that way but likely she felt Anna deserved it.  The story is that when I was born, Baba Ball came to the hospital and demanded that my mother give me to her to make up for her lost Louie (dad.) Mom and Baba rose promptly told her where to go and that she should give them the $10,000 to raise me. I learned that this was true when Mom died in 2004 and cleaning out her house, I found a suitcase of old papers and documents about my father.

There is more to that story of bitterness--they resented my mother remarrying. Well, my life would have been better if she had not remarried too, but that will be a story for another posting. My grand father Frank Ball died when I was about 9 or 10. After that their oldest son, Eddie took over. He built their home on the Ball property. His wife was Esther and they had 3 daughters, Carol, Christine, and Sheryl. I know little about these cousins.  Eddie died years ago in PA. He had Baba Ball write me out of her will and leave everything to his wife and children. It is thought that there was a significant amount of $$ there as they sold property where the Pittsburgh Mills shopping mall now sits. So much for that  inheritance--Eddie seemed to dislike us. But I know he has had to answer on the other side to his brother, my dad about his actions.  f he saw us downtown or even at church he would turn his head and walk quickly away. I thought there must be something wrong with me.

Mystery of the bronze sculpture

I have been battling a horrid spring cold all week.  Last Thursday I thought allergies were getting to me, by Saturday evening at mass I was sneezing less and coughing more.  Long saga, allergies no, nasty cold yes.  I haven't had a cold for many years and this spring cold was a doozy.  I had no fever but cough and hacking sputum and mucus..  One  that has had me cooped up all week, drinking lots of liquid, dousing with Thera flu and napping midday like an invalid.  By Wednesday I was looking for something to do inside  besides reading and checking my social media.  I was sorting through some old papers downstairs and found this document about a metal sculpture.  I had no clue what this might be related to, but surmised I had brought it with us from CA.  Nothing came to mind.  What was it, why had I stuffed this piece of paper into a small woven basket? 

Whatever it was had me scratching my head and looking around tge house.  The only bronze sculptures I thought of were some antique pieces I inherited from my late Uncle in PA.  This obviously was not one of those.  

 I Googled the sculptor and could find items for sale on EBAY and an art auction.  Then I realized, it was the Frog!  A small paperweight that has been here in our living room on the mantle ledge.  A handsome guy.  

 What I should have done is enlarged the writing on the Certificate (left photo) to see that a Frog is indeed identified along with the number.   I had glanced at this and couldn't make out the word "frog."

This took me over an hour to resolve after I went upstairs.  The certificate indicates I paid $25, but today the value ranges from $95 and up. I cannot find if the sculptor is still alive.   The Frog is signed on the side and numbered, it is not clear but the certificate is.

David Chesney Studios.

I still cannot recall buying this or why, but likely it was at an art show or tour.  He is now more of a treasure for me.  Especially because the mystery is resolved.  

Right after I posted this I tried to google the sculptor again and found his obituary from 2015.  Still not jogging my memory about when, why, how I bought the frog.  "

Obituary  David Lee Chesney

David Lee Chesney, age 59, passed on July 29, 2015 of oral cancer. He was born in Torrance, CA on August 20 1955 to loving parents Thomas Chesney and Ronna Chesney. He was a renowned bronze sculptor and artist for over 35 years. Lived in the Yuba City area for over 25 years.