Megan Smolenyak Smolenyak’s Roots World

Crystal Medler Rojas Mora of Kenmore, WA has spent the past six years researching the life of her maternal second great-grandmother, Lucretia Berry Porter Cowan, who, after her move from Maine to Seattle with her two young children in 1912 eventually gained a reputation as one of the best photographers in Seattle. Crystal is planning to write a biography of her ancestor and will be making a research trip to Maine, where she will visit a number of libraries, archives, and historical societies. The grant will help to pay for fees associated with this trip.

Bilge Ebiri opens his article, "Oscar Films and the Prison of Historical Accuracy," saying, "You know it’s Oscar season when the historical-accuracy hit squads show up." The genealogist in me bristles.

But read it all, I tell myself, and I do. And as I continue, I can't help but concede some of his points. After all, these are movies, not documentaries, and don't the director, producers, and screenwriters have the right to take some liberties in order to craft and deliver the best possible story?

As a genealogist, I'm borderline obsessed with the truth, but then, I'm a writer as well, and three of my books have been collections of stories, so I can appreciate the importance of storytelling. Frankly, good storytelling is all that makes history palatable to many.

I found myself being persuaded to his point of view until I got to the part where he wrote of The Imitation Game. This film about Alan Turing is on my to-see list and I was excited to learn more about this tragic genius - and still am. But it wasn't until reading Ebiri's article that I learned about the Poles who had begun cracking the Enigma code years earlier.

Ashamed of my own ignorance, I realized that this is my true gripe with liberties taken in historical films - for the vast majority of the people who watch, the movie will be the only version of events that they'll ever know. It will become their truth, their reality. 

I understand that I'm a relic, feebly shaking her fist at the sky, insisting that historical accuracy does indeed matter. But then I think of Annie Moore, the first immigrant to arrive at Ellis Island, and how her story had been hijacked and later corrected, and I realize that small victories are possible. And though I genuinely believe the truth is usually fascinating in its own right, it's next to useless if no one knows about it, so some compromise with movie embellishment is in order. 

I suspect that in the battle between story and accuracy, story will almost always win, but at least these slices of history will be out there, and the almost inevitable debates about the veracity of this or that aspect of this or that movie will themselves lead to greater understanding. So while I'll instinctively continue to at least clench my fist, I'll console myself with the historical awareness that films generate.

Even so, with all due respect to Alan Turing, I'd be very grateful if someone would make a film about Marian Rejewski.

Ah, this one kills me. It's a happy story in a sense - honest urban explorer returns money to family. But the photos - the photos! They protect the identity of the family in the article, but I can see from the photos that they are Slavic, and given that the money was American and Canadian, I'm guessing the vicinity of Detroit. And as someone with Slavic cousins who were drawn to Detroit for the auto industry, back when it was the Silicon Valley of its time, I could all too easily see this happening to my own family. That said, the place is a time capsule, the family now knows (and has presumably taken at least the photos home), and there's the kindness of strangers aspect. So all in all, a happy tale, but still tugging at the heart, you know?

Here's MESSYNESSYchic, where I first read about this:

The Abandoned House of Money and the Honorable Urban Explorer

And here's FREAKTOGRAPHY, the person who explored and photographed the house (photos for sale, if you're interested):

ABANDONED HOUSE OF TREASURES

The Genealogy Guys, George Morgan and Drew Smith, explore Oaklawn Cemetery in Tampa, Florida, and tell the story of William and Nancy Ashley, hinted at by their tombstone which describes them as "master and slave," but reveals more about the true nature of their relationship:

"Faithful to each other in that relationship in life, in death, they are not separated. Stranger consider and be wiser, in the Grave, all human distinction of race or caste mingle together in one common dust. To commemorate their fidelity to each other, this stone was erected by their Executor, John Jackson."

What makes this especially remarkable is that this tombstone was erected in the 1870s.