Genealogical Jenga

            The Case of Belle Trimble                                               

                                                 "Mrs. Belle Trimble"

(Genealogy is much like the game of Jenga. You start with the mysterious whole of a person and then slowly and carefully remove the blocks that tell the person's story. Sometimes the whole collapses and you must start over. Sometimes the whole of the person stays together...)

                                                               *****

Buckle your seat belts.

This is one bumpy sleigh ride.

I didn't start to write a holiday-themed story, but it's that time of year again and sometimes I just get lost "in a face." This time, the face turned out to be a complicated woman named "Belle." Since studying the somewhat unsteady parts of her life has often toppled the egg nog into my lap, I've decided that in the spirit of the season, I would call her, "Jenga Belle." 

Really? You didn't get that? 

Okay, now, don't be a 'dim bulb' here. If you think about it you'll get my drift.

Like most family historians I enjoy getting hooked by those "amazing discoveries" like, "Gee, golly, I'm a third half-cousin once removed to Gomer Pyle's Great Aunt Mary." (Indeed, if submitted family trees are to be believed I am only a humble tenth cousin twice removed - not). Sometimes though it's just the ordinary folks that (for lack of a better term) suck you in. Sometimes it's the ordinary folks who are way more interesting. Since I've been studying the family of my ancestors Aaron Merritt Clark and his lovely and talented wife Margaret (Fox) Clark, I thought I'd see what other ornaments might hang on that particular branch of my family's Christmas family tree.

Now I admit, I have been a sucker for this branch of my family tree. The folks on the Clark branch are WAY more entertaining than most. It's this side of my family that has brought me people like Aunt Isabelle (Clark) Schoolcraft whose husband was a comrade of the boxer, John L. Sullivan, and Aunt Fannie (Clark) Baker's son Johnny who has supplied me with my "quasi-cousinship" to Buffalo Bill Cody and The Wild West Show. It's also brought me "Dr. H.H. Clark," or "Uncle Hulbert" as we like to call him, the industrious doctor (and rumored to be a ghost) of Santa Cruz, California. I mean in addition to all of them, I get to have my great-great-great grandmother Eveline (Clark) Wilcox's branch of rodeo cowboys and a famous actor and TV cop. Tell me now, how could I go wrong?

Like I said though, what about the ordinary folks? 

It was about then that I stumbled upon Belle. Or "Margaret, or Maggie, or Margaret Belle," or whatever she was calling herself that year. I took one look at her picture and saw the steely eyes of a Clark family descendant and I just had to get to know her better. She was one of the ordinary ones. One of those gals who was out there chasing a dream or two that was probably gonna get away from her. I wanted to know more about her. However, figuring out who she was might end up being like playing a game of Yule Tide genealogical Jenga. 

I'm still not completely sure I've got old Belle figured all the way out.

Let's start with the basics. Belle was born "Margaret Belle Baker" and was likely born in North Platte, Nebraska on September 13, 1877, the daughter of Aunt Fannie Clark and Uncle "Big Lew" Baker. She died in San Mateo, County, California in 1962 - or at least that's what we "think" so far. "Margaret Belle" was the kid sister of Johnny Baker who'd run off with Buffalo Bill and, as luck would have it was also the big sister of William Baker, her kid brother who ALSO ran off to join The Wild West Show with his brother Johnny and the Codys. So what's a girl to do? Stuck by birthright between her famous and talented brothers, Margaret Belle Baker was gonna have to do something in this life to get noticed. 

So she did the only thing she could think to do at the time. 

She got married, and married, and married, and married again.      

Yeah, that's when the family history starts to get like a sleigh ride. You see, sometimes these "ordinary folks" are tougher to figure out than the famous ones, and well, when you're a lady like Margaret Belle Baker who likes to do the matrimonial dance and a lot of name changes across five decades and seven states it can be a bit of a grinch to trace. 

Okay, enough of my complaining. Let's just start at the beginning. 

It's 1894 and Margaret decides to marry Howard G. Atkinson. I figure Howard must have been "the good egg boy next door" guy in North Platte, Nebraska. I'm betting that while she didn't love him, it meant she could get outta the house. Howard was probably stable. Howard was perhaps a bit boring. Howard was a sure bet and her daddy said she should do it. So shortly before Christmas, "Maggie Bell" age 17, married Howard. Yeah, we all knew that wasn't gonna last. 

You see by October 1904, old Howard Atkinson was nowhere to be found near his former darling Margaret Belle. (If family trees are to be believed Howard got the heck outta Nebraska and moved to Washington State where he married the lovely and talented Charlotte and died circa 1941). However not to be outdone, "Margaret Bell Baker"  decided to get remarried herself, this time to a guy named Mr. James Edwin Orr. 

Is it as strange to you as it is to me that she goes back to calling herself "Margaret Belle Baker" on the marriage license when in fact at the time (October 1904) she was legally "Margaret Belle "Atkinson"? Strike two.         

Okay, so she needed a change of husband and scenery. 

Truth be told though, I haven't figured out what happened to Belle's second husband, the handsome and obviously quite brilliant "James Edwin Orr." Family trees seem to relegate Mr. Orr as a stocking stuffer in Belle's life, and the records are vague seeing as there are a HUGE number of men named "James Orr" to sift through. Be that as it may, Mr. Orr, or rather his name will get its revenge on me later on in this Christmas Jenga tale. 

Nevertheless, suffice it to say that "Margaret Belle Orr" appears to be, by 1918, "no more." Strike three.              

So what did I have left to go on?

The only thing I knew for certain was that I had a 1962 California death record for "Margaret B. Trimble" born 13 Sept 1977 and whose mother's maiden name was "Clark." This death record seemed to match up to Belle's.

So if that death record is correct, how do I get from "Margaret Belle Orr" to "Margaret B. Trimble?"  Can you say "Jenga" or what? Did I even have the right "Jenga Belle?"

Then I remembered something I saw in her mother's obituary:

            

Unable to locate a marriage for any "Margaret, Maggie, or Belle" (Baker, Atkinson, or Orr) to any man by the surname of "Trimble," I had to start to look deep. Then I recalled something from Belle's mother's obituary. It said that her mother, Aunt Fannie (Clark) Baker had "died at the home of her daughter, "Mrs. Harry Trimble," at the Angelus Apartments" in Omaha. Did I finally, have a "Trimble" for "Margaret Belle?"

Wait - so by 1918 no more Maggie or Margaret Belle? Now she's calling herself Mrs. Harry Trimble? Who the heck is Mrs. Harry Trimble? Is it our heroine Belle? And wait, who is Harry? Who the heck was Harry R. Trimble? 

 So I decided to check the Omaha city directories to see if I could learn more about the elusive "Mr. Harry Trimble." And there he was: (P.S. - Let this be a reminder to you about the value of a well-scripted obituary Mrs. Claus...)                              

At least with the information in the city directory I had a little more to go on as far as just who Belle's husband number three was. However, I needed to be sure. Did I have the correct Harry R. Trimble and just who the Hell was he?  As it turns out, Belle must have aimed a little high this time. It looks like Old Harry Trimble was something of a war hero, as he sold off his interest in the family business and headed off to fight - or rather to preach - in the trenches of World War I. You see, Harry went to work for the Y.M.C.A.'s war efforts. Who knew, right? I knew that unless there were two men with the same name living at the same address (which happens of course) I  believed I had the "right Harry R. Trimble" by the vitals and the address on his passport application - the address was the same as for the "Angelus Apartments in Omaha." 

                              

                                                        

Cheery looking place, isn't it? Nothing like early twentieth-century Omaha to make you run off to the War effort in France, or, wait for it, get a divorce from the Grinch-like Belle Trimble, right? It looks to me like our hero Belle was probably pissed off that Harry went to preach with the YMCA during the war. I mean what was she supposed to do while he was gone fighting the Gerries?

 In the end, though, it wasn't Belle who said "Enough is enough." It was Harry, who must have realized the grass would be greener on the other side of Margaret Belle. 

I do find his reason for divorcing Belle a bit unusual for a man of his time:

See I told you that Belle had a steely look in her eyes, right? Cruelty?

I guess Harry Trimble thought so too and he high-tailed it out of those Angelus Apartments in Omaha. He went to California where he remarried and raised a daughter. Harry died in Los Angeles County in 1954. 

At this point, "Mrs. Margaret Belle Trimble" gets a bit lost in the records. And further, what she's calling herself is anybody's best guess. When one does find her, as with most of the women of the day, she refers to herself as a "widow" rather than as a divorced woman. However finding Belle wasn't going to be just as easy as distinguishing between married, widowed, single, or divorced. 

At this point, to find Belle Trimble, we are going to have to work both forward and backward. Say what?

The first "sign" of Belle post Harry Trimble is in the Social Security Data Base where in 1938 she identifies herself as "Margaret Belle Baker Hedges." We know this is the correct "Margaret Belle" because she lists her date of birth (Sept 13, 1877) and names her parents as Lewis Baker and Fannie Clark. 

Now moving forward in time, we also have that California death record for "Margaret B. Trimble" who died October 7, 1972, and lists her mother's maiden name as "Clark."

So how do we get from "Mrs. Harry Trimble (1918) to Margaret Belle Baker Hedges (1938) to Margaret B. Trimble (1962)? 

Indeed, how does "The Belle Trimble?" 

To do this, I needed to figure out how Margaret Belle Trimble became Margaret Belle Hedges. Again, I wasn't able to find a marriage record for any "Margaret Belle Trimble" (Baker, Atkinson, Orr, or Trimble) to any Mr. Hedges. So just who was Mr. Hedges? The only thing I knew was that Belle Trimble (or the woman I believed to be Belle) ended up eventually in California. 

The first clue I had was in a 1937 Los Angeles City Directory for "Margaret Belle Hedges" living with her husband Harry R. Hedges. It seemed to match the 1938 record from the Social Security Department.                

                                    (1937)                        

 

         (1938)

         (1940)

At least now I figured I might have a name for Margaret Belle's fourth husband - it was "Harry" just like the name of her third husband. Doesn't that just make you "Trimble?" (lol) I guess she didn't want to change the monogram on the towels. Still, one address does not verify any identity. Did I have the correct Margaret Belle Baker Hedges as was listed on the Social Security Claims and Applications Index? Now check out the (1942) "change of status" for Belle in the city directory:

           

(1942)

Check out that address: 1551 Echo Park Ave., Los Angeles, California - it's the same as "Mrs. Margaret Belle Hedges" in 1938. But is it the same "Belle" we are looking for? 

(Believe me, there are plenty of ladies named "Margaret Belle Hedges...)  

Is "Belle T. Hedges" the same woman "Belle Trimble?" And where in 1942 is the dashing and valiant Harry Hedges? (Sadly, I believe Belle's "Second Harry" died in 1953) All of this does however seem to go along with the records quite "festively" with the addresses matching and proving that we likely have the correct Belle - but...then Belle's sister Elma had to go and die in 1945 confusing things. 

                                              Say what?

                                                     Belle's sister Elma's (1945) Obituary

Um, wait a minute? Aren't you likely still "Mrs. Belle Hedges" in 1945? And, if you aren't - I mean if you've already moved on from husband number four Mr. Harry Hedges - why are they calling you "Mrs. Belle Trimble" in 1945 - yet again when you are still Mrs. Belle Hedges? (Obviously, the irascible Belle and the charming Mr. Hedges had divided up the Christmas ornaments for VJ Day....)

And just where are you Belle, in say 1950? (Or rather, who are you Belle in 1950?)     

(1950 Census)

Okay, I get it. Maybe I have the wrong Belle Hedges. Maybe you remarried the YMCA guy Mr. Harry Trimble after he got home from the Second World War. Hey, it's the Jenga of genealogy where anything can happen, right? But check out that 1950 census. "Belle Trimble" (and not "Belle Hedges" is still living at that same Echo Park address, is within a year of the right age, and states she's from Nebraska. (She also states she's a widow - but the jury is still out on that...) 

Looks like we've found our Belle. But, as they say on the Games Shows - Wait there's more!

You see Belle's other sister Luella has to go and die in 1954. Check out her obituary:                    

(1954)

So just who are you, Belle? Are you Belle Orr yet again now too? 

(I told you that Mr. Orr's name would come back to haunt me earlier in this post) Or are you Belle Hedges or Belle Trimble? And if you are buried in the grave of "Margaret B. Trimble" born on Sept 13, 1877, with a mother's name of "Clark?" - How can I be sure that it's really you - ding-a-ling? 

Or, could the woman in this obituary be the Belle Trimble I was looking for?                 

                                            (1962)

It seemed like I could never be certain about Belle. My mind raced figuring out if there could easily be TWO women named "Margaret B. Trimble" born on the same date with both having the same mother;'s maiden name of "Clark." (Hey, it happens...) It was about then that I re-read both Belle's obituary and that of Belle's brother William Baker:                                      

                                                 (1960)

I'm pretty sure you are all smart enough to see the one name that cinches up the deal here and makes the genealogical jenga stand. I won't even bother you with explaining that "Mrs. Frances R. Stainback" of 1962 is the same person as "Mrs. A. W. Stainback." Christmas came early for both me and Belle as this relationship (the mention of Belle's niece) in both newspaper articles confirms that it's Belle.

Ding-ding.

Now I cannot explain why Belle chose to be buried under the married surname of her third husband. I can't explain why somebody called her by the name of her second husband, Mr. Orr, in 1945. I like to think that Belle never got over Harry Trimble for divorcing her. I sort of think that she followed him out to California hoping to reconcile. I do not find where Belle is ever living with anyone else other than what's shown in her obituary - her niece. I don't believe Harry Trimble ever remarried Belle.

Maybe she did some 1930s-style staking on old Harry Trimble before she settled in and married the dashing Mr. Harry Hedges - a guy who appears to have disappeared into thin air. I do believe that the reference to her as "Mrs. Belle Orr " in 1945 is just a mistake. The news didn't travel as fast in those days. Perhaps the family never knew that Belle had married Harry Hedges, and they never got a forwarding name or address out of Belle.

I think Belle Trimble may get the last laugh on us all though.

What? Did you think I wouldn't leave behind some Christmas cookies?

I went to check out Belle's "profile" on FindAGrave.com. [1] I figured that if she didn't have a gravesite picture then I'd ask a volunteer to obtain one. Big problem - according to the FindAGrave contributor, it looks like you may have to get permission to take a picture of Belle's grave. Say what? It's either that or pay the cemetery $25.00 to get a picture. You see, Belle Trimble is buried in Forest Lawn Glendale's "Great Mausoleum" and by and large, it's locked.                                        

     Per the volunteer: "Only family are allowed entry to the locked Great Mausoleum..." 

Now this didn't mean much to me - but then I read who else was buried in "The "Great" locked mausoleum. From what I can tell, Belle Trimble is buried within yelling distance of the likes of Theda Bara, Carole Lombard, Clark Gable, and Elizabeth Taylor.

You go, Belle Trimble!

What the heck??? I told you this family had a MAJOR penchant for the theatrical. I guess Belle Trimble just figured that if she wasn't gonna get famous like her Wild West Show brothers that well she'd at least get buried with a bunch of movie stars. Beats me. Must have cost old Belle a fortune.

    

One thing is for certain though - I am not here to judge Belle. Heck, she's WAY more interesting than a lot of folks I encounter along the genealogical Jenga highway. Wherever she is I hope she's resting with her secrets well.

For me, she will always be my holiday story. She'll forever be my Jenga Belle.

Genealogical baggage on the Christmas carol-sel.

(Wink!)

Notes:

[1] FindAGrave.com memorial number 85535615

                                                      

                                 

                   LOST BAGGAGE                                           

 

    Screenshot of Dr. H. H. Clark courtesy of Marla Novo and the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History [1]

(All the people, places, and things in this tale are true - especially the one about the doctor's old ghost...)

As always, unapologetically unedited. 

SANTA CRUZ, California, ante 2012

Talk about genealogical baggage.

They didn't want him there. They wanted him out of the house. 

   

He guessed he'd been causing too many problems, like making funny noises and keeping the kids up at night, or, at least that was the scuttlebutt he'd heard coming from the parlor the day that woman had come to claim him. He felt a bit conflicted about it. It was, after all, his house. It was his house there at 104 King Street. He'd built it adjacent to the gore point, where King, Mission, and St Lawrence Streets met and one could see parts of the city from every direction. He'd planned that there should be light in every room and that his house would not square with the points of the compass. It was a handsome house. It was the very same house he'd charged to be designed and built by the architect Mr. LeBaron Olive. No wonder they wanted to take the place away from him. Mr. Olive designed for only the most progressive families. 

He'd spared little expense designing it for Matilda, building it in an appropriate Eastlake Style with its hipped roof, gabled veranda, and prima vera wood alongside elegant Spanish Cedar flooring. Matilda's tastes could be so extravagant from time to time you know. Still, he didn't mind. It was a respectable home for his family. He'd even made sure that there was a choice of lighting - electric or gas. Still, he chaffed a bit, chuckling to himself that if it weren't for him the whole damn town would still be sitting around in the dark waiting for the next earthquake to happen. After all, hadn't he been the one who'd brought electricity to the city when few others wanted to? Hadn't he done enough for that damn city?

He heard them ring her up on what he assumed was some sort of Bell's candlestick. But where were the wires for the telephone? Things were so curious anymore. They referred to her as the woman from the museum. A museum? What in God's name did they need a museum for? And then there was that man of the house, his house, that "Great Pretender" sleeping in his bedroom, you know, the one who'd raised all the fuss. He'd heard him say to the woman from the museum, "But will you take him???" while pointing to his portrait. Honestly, did they think it was taking up all that much space? 

Need he remind them all that he'd been mayor of this city once?

                              

When she arrived there was much of a 'to do.' They spoke softly about his children; they said he'd had a child who'd died there in the house and that was why they thought he was 'restless.' He grimaced a bit as they spoke about his personal affairs. He was a private man in keeping with the times. His small children had died years ago; he and Matilda had buried them in an Illinois cemetery right after Grant had triumphed in the war and long before they'd come west. They were partially correct though. However, it was his son's ghost that they heard about the place at night and not his. Poor Teddy, he'd just never recovered from his business losses or from Cora's leaving him. It was his and Matilda's son Theodore that they'd found in the kitchen of the house that day. His lifeless body sitting all too near the gas stove. No, the children that roamed his house on King Street had already lived their lives.

Oh, he could see what they were up to. He'd learned how "to see" a lot more than most people throughout his lifetime. After all, wasn't it he who had purchased the town's first X-ray machine to help him diagnose and cure what ailed them?  

As they picked up his wooden stethoscope, his "diarrhea pellets," and his "anodyne for infants" out of an old box the "new laird" had brought in, he couldn't help but feel somewhat indignant. Did they not have any respect for a physician's belongings? If they had no respect for him as a doctor then surely they must respect him as a man. Perhaps they'd forgotten that it was he who'd greeted and accompanied the President of The United States to town. However, he was humble and thought it best not to say anything. He didn't wish to remind them of it, but he had done his best to create an industrious and enterprising, and yes, even a scientific life - and a life of substance.

He supposed that he should write to his sisters. Perhaps a cable to Eveline in Wyoming, or to Fannie in Nebraska to let them know what was going on. Did they live at the same address as before? He couldn't seem to remember. Perhaps he was getting old. He thought about dear Charlotte in Iowa, his brother Theodore and family in Chicago, and his sister Ophelia in San Francisco. He was so glad that she hadn't followed their sister Isabelle and chased after that show provocateur Luke Schoolcraft. He recalled the tragic death of his brother Dewitt and the unresolved questions regarding Dewitt's "accidental" death just a few short years before. Poor Dewitt was always chasing the next dream. Perhaps the lady from the museum was right. Maybe he was a bit sad after all.

He watched out behind the curtains of a second-floor window as the polite lady from the museum loaded his things into her automobile. He heard her say to the man and his wife that she'd ensure Dr. Clark's things were well preserved, remembered, and taken care of. Odd, he felt no reason not to believe her, and he trusted that she would be true to her word. He saw the sunlight glance off his portrait photograph as she closed the door to her car and drove off down King Street. The thing of it was that he wasn't truly gone though, and it was still his house despite it all. He was simply moving on, and well, taking his time to do so. He still had Teddy here to look after. There was still much to do before he could meet his dear Matilda in the tomorrow of a new morning's dawn.

                                                                *****

Above image: President Benjamin Harrison's speech in Santa Cruz

   

What my Great-great-great Uncle Hulbert's things were still doing in his home on King Street nearly one hundred years after his death (and well after the deaths of his adult children) does baffle me a bit. (See the link at note one below.) Say what? While I can find no other direct descendants of his (all his children may have died childless) couldn't someone have cleaned out the basement, say by 1968? I suppose I should be glad they did call the museum, and I am truly sorry that the restless ghosts of my aspiring Gilded Age kin might have been trying to give them a fright. (Ummm....maybe not...) It's just that Uncle Hulbert looks to have been quite a guy. 

Let me get this straight:  Hulbert Henry Clark, a Civil War Dentist/Surgeon under General Grant moved from Illinois to Santa Cruz in the early 1880s to practice medicine. [2] He then helps to purchase a "start-up" company to provide something small like "ELECTRICTY" to the city - a company that later becomes collectively known as "PG&E." Then he is elected Mayor, and then plays host to the 23rd President of the United States? Oh, and did I mention that he bought one of the first X-ray machines, you know, "just because?"

Who was this guy? Are you sure he's really related to me? Well, go figure...

As I've made my way through the family of my ancestors Aaron Merritt Clark and Margaret (Fox) Clark I am continually dumbfounded by the lives I am encountering. It's hard not to keep asking oneself, Did anyone know this sh*t???

Dr. Clark's sister, my great-great-great Grandmother Eveline (Clark) Wilcox (Mrs. Hiram Wilcox) led a pretty quiet life out in the middle of the Wyoming sagebrush - and some of her family did prosper well enough at a place called The Flying Diamond Ranch. But still, there seems to have been so much that we just didn't know. As I read these stories, stories about her sister Fannie (Clark) Baker's son Johnny Baker going off to be Buffalo Bill's foster son and a part of the Wild West Show, about her sister Isabelle (Clark) Schoolcraft (not to mention her father Aaron) residing with and traveling with "the showman" Luke Schoolcraft whose funeral was attended by the great fighter John L. Sullivan - I am utterly amazed. 

 

Heck, I think maybe she did.

And now this guy - her brother Uncle Hulbert?

(Really, who names their kid "Hulbert?")

                                       

However, "Uncle Hulbert" seems like he was one class act for the 1890s. Looks like he did it all. 

It sort of makes me wonder about what the letters that surely they wrote back and forth might have said...

"Dear Eveline, We had the joy of watching sister Fannie's son Johnny B. riding with Buffalo Bill yesterday at the Wild West Show... Signed, your devoted brother, Hulbert Clark."

Was a letter like that even possible? Apparently, it was.

            

                                   

                             Lower image: Evening Sentinel, Santa Cruz California, May 6, 1902, p. 3

Again, go figure. Do you think Uncle Hulbert knew his nephew was riding with Buffalo Bill through the streets of his town of Santa Cruz? Do you think Johnny Baker knew that his uncle had been mayor of that city and had entertained the president? (Likely, Johnny would not have been impressed since in his lifetime he'd entertain at the court of King Edward VIII...) 

Yikes. Who are these people?

And right below "all that" in the newspaper clipping above there's old Uncle Hulbert busy helping to sell off his shares of the electric company he had a hand in starting...

It is frickin' amazing.

I have wondered how close the lives of these disparate Clark family siblings were. I've wondered if Fannie wrote to Charlotte or if Theodore wrote to tell DeWitt that their brother Hulbert had been elected Mayor and was recently entertaining President Harrison. Did my great-great-great-grandmother Eveline (Clark) Wilcox write to Hulbert often? Did she tell her "doctor brother" about all her aches and pains of old age and did he advise her to come out west so that he might diagnose her under the mayor's electric lights with his new X-ray machine? 

While I will never be able to tell how close the eight surviving adult children of Aaron Clark and Margaret (Fox) were, there might actually have been there are a few signs...

   

I found it in the Coroner's Report for their sister Margaret Ophelia (Clark) Smith (no. nine in the above list of Aaron and Margaret's children). The last of her generation of siblings, "Ophelia" died in San Francisco in 1927. As she died childless, it was curious to see the two names that signed for her on the Coroner's Form. 

                 

It was the sons of Dr. Hulbert Henry Clark and his wife Matilda. Uncle Hulbert, long dead by 1927, his sons Teddy and Bert came to sign for the disposition of their aunt's body. Listed as a widow on her death certificate, "Ophelia" proved difficult to track after dropping her married name of "Smith." They certainly weren't the most welcoming signatures to see, but still a true sign that even a decade after their father's death (and indeed the death of all their father's other siblings) the family was still taking responsibility for one of their own.

It was good to see that.

It just tells you that you have always got to check your baggage, right? 

In the end, some baggage just looks alike.

Does this mean we get into the Santa Cruz Boardwalk for free? Just sayin'...

Notes:

1. As per: https://www.santacruzmah.org/blog/dr-clark

2. See FindAGrave.com memorial no: 40544830 for Hulbert Henry Clark, M.D.