9 Bonus Facts on Italian Birth Records, Part 2

Last week we covered 5 out of 9 bonus facts you can find on Italian birth records. They can be game changers! Here are the rest of them.

6. Multiple births

Look next to a baby's given name on their birth record for gemello (twin). In a paragraph after the baby's name, look for "é il primo nato" (is the first-born) or "é il secondo nato" (is the second-born). Of course the birth order is the same as the record order.

If baby is a twin (or triplet), look for special wording. Also, did baby grow up to marry? Look for who and when, and sometimes where.

7. Baby's dead father's date of death

This is a bonus I discovered last week. Many times when a midwife reports the birth instead of the father, the documents tells us why. Typically I see:

• the father is in America
• the father is out of the country
• the father is ill
• the father is in jail

But sometimes he didn't present the baby because he's dead. And you may find his death date on that birth record. That's fantastic if that year's death records are unavailable.

On Libera Filomena Zeolla's 1887 birth record, the levatrice (midwife) presents the baby. The document says Libera was born to Damiana Palmiero, the widow of Giovanni Zeolla. So we know Giovanni died shortly before his baby was born. But in a bonus paragraph we see:

La dichiarante ha denunciata la nascita suddetta, per aver assistito al parto della Palmiero, e in luogo marito di questa, perche morto sin dal dicciasette agosto mille ottocentottantasei.

That translates to: The declarant presented this baby, having witnessed Palmiero giving birth, and instead of her husband, because he died on 17 August 1886.

It's always sad to see a baby born after dad died. Silver lining: This record tells us his date of death.

8. Marriage notation

It's great when your ancestor's birth record has their marriage notation in the column. If you already know who they married, this confirms you've found the right birth record.

The marriage notation can include:

• Date of marriage
• Town of marriage
• Spouse's name

In another town I know, if a woman married an out-of-town man, her birth record even includes his parents' names. Bonus!

If your person married more than once, you'll see multiple marriage notations. They made these notes at the time of the marriage when the bride or groom had to prove their birth and parentage. While the clerk is getting that proof, he can add the marriage notation.

9. Baby's father died in the war

One genealogy project that's waiting for my attention is identifying men who died in the war. I photographed their names on a monument in my ancestral hometown's piazza. I can find their military records online.

As I add babies to my family tree from the early 1900s, I'm finding a few records that note the baby's father died in the war. When I see that, I rush to get the father's military record.

Seeing this "died in the war" notation tells you to look for the soldier's military record.

This notation in the column of a birth record will say something like:

Il genitore é morto per la guerra addi 27-10-1917

That translates to: The parent died in the war on 27 Oct 1917.

This particular soldier, Angelo Giovanni Mascia, had at least 3 children. I found this important note written on his sons Antonio and Giovanni's birth records. His first child was stillborn, so he did not get the note. I'll bet the note is there because the surviving children are due some compensation.

It's very easy (with practice) to pull the important facts from an Italian birth record. Be sure to look at the rest of the document, especially after 1865, for more details. Be on the lookout for notations in the columns and a paragraph written after the baby's first name.

Now you're ready to cash in on all these bonus facts!

9 Bonus Facts on Italian Birth Records, Part 1

I'm nearing the end of my mega-genealogy project. I'm reviewing every available vital record from my grandfather's hometown. Then I'm fitting almost everyone into my family tree.

As I journey from 1809 to 1942, I'm noticing that most couples had far fewer babies in the 1870s than they did before. Instead of 12 babies, they had about five. Did they finally discover how not to get pregnant every year?

I've also noticed 9 types of facts that you can easily overlook on certain birth records. How they recorded these facts depends on the place and the year. Once you know they might be there, you can be on the lookout.

This article was running long, so here are the first 5 bonus facts. Please come back next week for the rest.

1. Abandoned baby

Birth records for abandoned babies may be found with all the other births that year. Or you may find them listed in a group at the end of the birth records. These records may have details about who found the baby and where, and what they found with the baby. Was the baby naked? Wrapped in rags? Wrapped in a nice blanket? Was there some small token with the baby?

If a mother hoped to claim her baby later, she could leave behind a sign. She could wrap it in a blanket that only she could describe. She could include a picture of the Virgin Mary, or something that only she knew was with the baby.

You'll see wording to say that they "gave" the baby this first name and this last name. And you may see who will raise the child.

If someone in your family tree was abandoned or born out of wedlock, don't overlook these important facts.

2. Baby born out of wedlock

A woman had to be pretty brave in a Catholic community to claim her out-of-wedlock baby. But it happened. In this example we see that 25-year-old Florinda claimed her baby Maria who was born:

dalla sua unione con uomo celibe, non parente ne affine nei gradi che astono al riconoscimento

This translates to: from her union with an unmarried man who is not her relative nor of any close relationship to her.

Sometimes you'll see the words unione naturale, which is a nice way to say the baby was not conceived by a married couple.

3. Marriage date of out-of-wedlock baby's parents

There are times when a man will claim his out-of-wedlock baby, but not give the name of the mother. This is a lot less common than a woman claiming her baby and not naming the father.

Sometimes the birth record will have a note stating the other parent's name, and when they married. What a bonus!

In the example of Cristina Iamarino, her father Donato claimed her but didn't name the mother. Like the example above, we see:

dalla sua unione con donna non maritato, non parente ne affine nei gradi che astono al riconoscimento

This tells us his baby was born from his union with an unmarried woman who is not his relative nor of any close relationship to him.

The note in the column says that 5 months later, Donato married Antonia Paolucci—the baby's mother, legitimizing their baby.

This jaw-dropping bonus in Cristina's birth record gives the name of her missing mother!

I find it interesting that Cristina's marriage notation shows she married an abandoned baby with a made-up name.

4. Stillborn baby

There seemed to be a lot of stillborn babies in the towns where my ancestors lived. The idea of a father carrying the dead baby into town to present to the mayor is horrifying. But that's what happened. (See Why Our Ancestors Marched Hours-Old Babies into Town.)

On these records we see these Italian words right after the baby's first name:

e che io si conosco essere senza vita

This translates to, "and that I know myself to be lifeless." That's the mayor (or their clerk) saying they see for themselves that this is a dead baby. (God help me, that makes me think of Monty Python's dead parrot sketch.)

Look for the words senza vita (lifeless, or literally, without life) written near the given name, or nato morto (stillborn, or literally, born dead!) written in the column. It always pains me when I see a couple having more than one stillborn baby.

Always look near the baby's name for senza vita, or in the column for nato morto or a death date. This bonus fact is easy to overlook.

5. Baby's early death

When death records aren't available, it's helpful to find a death date written on the birth record. This tends to happen when a baby died very soon after birth.

In this example, Pasquale Iamarino was born on 2 April 1912, and the note says he died on 14 April 1912.

Next week's article, "9 Bonus Facts Found on Italian Birth Records, Part 2," includes a bonus that's new to me. It's something I'd always wished they would include. And sometimes they do!

How I Stumbled on a Clue to Bust a Brick Wall

Last week I was trying to find a particular birth record on the New York City Municipal Archives' website (see Day 5 of 7 Days to a Better Family Tree). I didn't have the certificate number, so I did a broad search for births in the Bronx within a span of years.

The certificates in my search results didn't show names—only numbers. I had to open each one to see if it was the birth record I needed. One record struck me as a possible misspelling of my own last name, Iamarino. The baby's name, written twice on the document, looks like Danette or Dometta Amarino. The parents are Francesco Amarino and Maria Iacobacia.

That combination of names rang a bell. My 3rd great uncle Francesco (Saverio) Iamarino married (Anna) Maria Iacobaccio. They emigrated to New York. My dad remembers two of their U.S.-born children as his "aunts" Lina and Filly, as well as Filly's sons.

But baby "Danette," born in the Bronx in 1898, was not someone I'd ever heard mentioned. Was she really my 1st cousin 3 times removed, or was this combination of parents' names a coincidence?

I was about to delete her downloaded birth record. But then I took another look at her potential father in my family tree. I had only his 1855 Italian birth record and his 1937 New York death certificate.

Found by accident, downloaded on a hunch, this birth certificate helped break down a brick wall in my family tree.

I needed to find some censuses for this family. My search on Ancestry delivered the family in 1900, 1915, and 1920. I found "Aunt" Lina on the 1900 census using what I always imagined was her real name: Nicolina.

But there was a surprise on the 1900 census. Nicolina had a 2-year-old sister named Antonetta.

Hold on a minute! I said that name aloud the way a Southern Italian immigrant might pronounce it: Ondonet. (See Look Past the Misspellings to Find Your Ancestors.) The 1898 birth certificate I found by accident was baby Antonetta, misunderstood by the clerk as Danette or Dometta. She was my cousin after all.

The New York State census for 1915 further supported "Danette" being my cousin. This year the family included both "aunts" Lina and Filly. And also my newly discovered "aunt" Antonetta. But there was another surprise. The family added a son in 1903 named John. My dad and I had never heard of him, either.

The 1920 census held yet another surprise. Lina is missing, having married in 1919. Antonette and John are there, and they wrote Filly's name as Filomino. This tells me her real name was Filomena, as I'd always suspected. Later in life she Americanized it to Phyllis.

But the surprise was the family's location. They're not in the Bronx, even though the head of the household would die there 17 years later. They're in North Brunswick, New Jersey.

You might think I would dismiss this as being the wrong family. But I knew there was a connection to New Brunswick, which borders North Brunswick. I have a few 1930s photographs of my dad and his family standing beside a car in front of the New Brunswick City Yards.

It was a collection of old photos in front of the "New Brunswick City Yards" that told me I was on the right track.

I wish I could find this building! But New Brunswick has been rebuilt over the years, thanks to Rutgers University and factory closings. I searched for historic photos of the area with no luck.

The connection to North Brunswick interested me because I lived there in 1985–1986. I discovered they lived in the village of Adams Station. I actually worked in that village and lived a mile up the road.

I really needed to find the family in the 1930 census, but I couldn't find them by name. So I searched the census records by location only. North Brunswick, New Jersey, had only 2 districts in 1930, so I could browse them page by page.

They conducted the 1930 census in April—2 months after my 3rd great uncle's wife died. Will her family still be there? Aunt Filly was with her husband in New Brunswick. Aunt Lina was with her husband in the Bronx. Their brother John may have married that year. I had 74 pages of census to go through. With 20 pages left to go, I found them!

Just as I was losing hope, I spotted the name Marino. There was Frank, a 77-year-old widow, his 25-year-old son John, and John's new wife Rosie. This census had no street names or house numbers. It was simply the Adams section of North Brunswick.

I went on to find John, the son of my 3rd great uncle, in the 1940 and 1950 censuses. Although he was in a different house each time, he was always two-and-a-half miles from where I lived 13 years after his death.

I've spent hours gathering this family's records and putting tons of facts into my family tree. I've taken this family in unexpected directions. And it was all because a name on a random birth certificate seemed to me like it should be my family.

If you have a hunch about a slightly "off" genealogy find, follow your instincts. Do the research and prove that the person is either in or out of your family tree.