A Families' Affair 1573

      Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary p. 19 defines affair as  "1 a pl : commercial, professional, or public business, b : matter, concern".  There are several other definitions here, but this is the one meant to be used during this post. 

      The father of our Inigo Jones (1573 -1652) was another fellow named Inigo.  A Sr./Jr. phenomena which is frequently found in many folks family tree.  Inigo Sr. was living with his family in London before 1573 when Inigo Jr. was christened in the church of St. Bartholomew the Less, Smithfield, 29 July 1673.  By the time of his father's will 14 Feb. 1596-7, there were three other living children; Joan, Judith, and Mary.  There where at least four other siblings that died in infancy. This would place the life of Inigo Sr. ca. 1553 - 1597 if one assumes Inigo Jr. was first born and the generally accepted marriage was 18-21 yrs. of age.

By the time Inigo Sr. arrived in London he was involved in the clothing business.  This was his trade and the folks in Smithfield held every year a cloth fair around the feast of St. Bartholomew. [from 1133 A.D. to 1840 A.D.]  Booths were occupied by drapers and cloth workers.  According to Livery Company documents: "Livery Companies are trade associations based in the City of London.  They originally developed as guilds. They were responsible for the regulation of their respective trades, controlling, for instance, wages and labor conditions."  In 1515 an order of precedence was settled for the 103 Livery Companies in London.  This order was based on the Companies' economic or political power.  Mercers (General Merchants) were #1.  The Company of Drapers were #3.  Our families' affair (Company of Clothworkers) was listed as #12 out of the 103 companies ranked according to their economic power.  Not so bad a position for economic or political power among these ranked companies.

The Homeland of Inigo Jones (1573 - 1652)

      The last post of  December 15 discussed the Welsh origin of the name Inigo.  Continuing with the history of  Inigo Jones, this post will describe the geographic location of his homeland.  Let's begin with Burke 1884 edition on page 547 which states:

       "Jones, or Johnes (Grothkenan, Co. Denbigh) of this line was Inigo Jones, the architect)"

      Beginning here, the line (and location) is given.  The Welsh County of Denbigh is well known and recognized since the statutes of Rhuddlan 1283 A.D. [Nicholas, Vol. I, p.365]  Now Grothenan is much more difficult.  It was not indexed in Nicholas, or the Ordnance Survey Atlas of Victorian & Edwardian Britain.  A Gazetteer of Welsh Place-Names (by the University of Wales Press, 1967) did not list such a place.  It must no longer exist was my thought.  Where to go from here?  Well believe it or not, Dwnn, Vol. II. page 348 list "Garthgynam", and in foot note 5, states it was "In the parish of Llanfair Dyffryn Clwyd, near Ruthyn."  Wow, could this be the same place?  My own Jones line comes from this same location. [Llwyn-ynn Hall, Llanfair Dyffryn Clwyd, Denbighshire! Two miles south of Ruthin!]  Wow, what a deal!

      Let's see now...  G(R)(O)TH(K)(E)NAN from Burke [English] ...

                                 G(A)(R)TH(G)(Y)NAM from Dwnn [Welsh].

      Welsh to English, always difficult to the phonetic ear.  For the Welsh language "G" is muted to "K". [Welsh Genealogical Research, by Franklin p. 22]  A good fit I would say.

                                 GARDD = garden (DD = th in the Welsh.)

                                   GER = near by

                                   MAN = high place ...(mutation of B = M from BON)

      More to come about this homeland.

      

Inigo Jones (1573 - 1652)

      In 2005, the University of Manchester (England) listed 126 references pertaining to Inigo Jones. [copac.ac.uk]  In addition to this listing, he is recognized as transforming the architectural scene in Briton beginning 1615.  [Lives of the Stuart Age p. 239]  This Stuart source also states "...bore the unfamiliar Spanish name of Inigo." [p. 240]  Having the same Welsh descent and sharing the same surname, some time was spent exploring the origin of this first name Inigo.  Here are some of the findings.

      Using one of my favorite Welsh genealogy text by Nicholas [Annals and Antiquities of The Counties and County Families of Wales] he states describing an iron gate designed by our Inigo as "...the principal entrance, was designed by the writer's countryman, "Ynyr Shon" (Inigo Jones)." [p.661 Vol. II]  So there you have it!  A Welsh name of origin which was written in Welsh saved in Welsh documents [Mostyn manuscripts].

      The earliest use of this first name appears to be in South Wales around the year of 510 A.D.  According to Ashley in his book titled "British Kings and Queens", he states that in Gwent "Honorius or Ynyr" was a ruler of Caerwent.  He also states that in the Celtic language he was known as "ynyr". [p.124]  Thus this name in the earliest language was Celtic.

       By following my own family tree to Wales (Jones of course), it led me again to Nicholas [p.354 Vol. I] which shows the paternal descent of Tudor Trevor from "Ynyr ap Gadforch".  This Welsh tribal group leads to many of the surname Jones.  

       In Burke [The General Armory of England, Scotland, and Wales p.547] it records the arms of Inigo Jones.  On p.1035 it gives the arms of Tudor Trevor.  These are from the same family arms that are carried many generations down the family tree. 

Having Been

 

                                                                 Having been born,

                                                                            and

                                                                   Having lived,

                                                                            and

                                                                   Having died.

                                                                   So, it has been, 

                                                                            and

                                                                   So, it shall be.

                                                           The Jones Genealogist

Still Believe in Dragons

Human growth and development are two of life's processes.  While still above ground, it is probably a good activity.  For most families, a child turning 13 is one of these special growth points.  Development is often a option.  Such is the case for my family.

My oldest grandson (Sam) is turning 13!  His growth and development has been amazing, and I am sure that there is much more to come.  Mom (my oldest daughter) requested all send to Sam some thoughts about this life event from our own experiences, and she would read them to Sam during his 13th Birthday Party.  This was mine :

"Hey Sam...Happy...Happy...Happy 13th Birthday. Bet you thought this day would never arrive, but here it is after 13 years of preparation.  I have enclosed a drawing you sent me some years back containing all the love your little heart could muster.  Now I am sending it back to you with all the love that this old, gray bearded heart can muster.  A special drawing it is to remind you that no matter what age you are and become...it is still O.K. to believe in dragons."

This drawing was sent some 5 years past, and I still enjoy this dragon.

Family and Friends

To those who might enjoy a follow-up photograph to the one posted 2 November, 2015 titled "Just Another Day".  The photo in this post is shown below.  [This post has received 3265 visits.]

Evelyn Jean is seated just to my right side in the picture.  Of course yours truly is seated in front with both fingers in my mouth sharing this moment in time. 

Now some years back the following photo was taken.  Just Evelyn Jean and I sharing this moment in time.

We are in the same position as shown in the first picture, and certainly haven't changed a bit.
[NOT!]  We had not seen one another for at least three decades, and enjoyed catching one another up on all the happenings important to us.  Just another day in our lives, but a little to old for tree climbing, rock throwing, snow ball fighting and the like...on this day in time, we were just family and friends.

That Perfect Pitch

Recent summer days here in Kentucky have been a string of hot, hot, and muggy 80 to 90 degree ovens.  Having baked a bit today, my mind drifted back to those winter school days when enough snow would fall leaving one free to produce those "snow angles" and "snow men", and a good snow ball fight when the neighborhood gang got going.

During these days, there was a special place just right for throwing snow balls at passing cars.  It was located at the north end of Vine Street where a cinder-block foundation once stood.  At one end it was about six feet high tapering down gradually some 10 feet away to a two block stack.  The wall ran parallel  to Washington Street where cars would travel east and west having to slow their speed due to the snow.  One could hide behind the six feet part, and when a car passed you could move down the wall as needed to let fly that well packed ball of ice. 

On this particular snow day, solo flight was in order, and I was alone with several of those expertly prepared vehicles of ice.  A black 54 Ford appeared heading west.  Hum...a perfect target it was.  Now it took a certain amount of skill to time the release based upon the speed of the car, the height of the wall you had reached, and the projected angle of impact.  The car heading west was also an advantage since its back side would be more exposed as one moved down the wall.  Well here goes.

The snow ball arrived as planned, but little did I know that the back side window was opened.  Right through the back window it went.  What a perfect pitch it was.  Enjoying this moment came suddenly to an end when the 54 Ford stopped and a well built man exited his vehicle.  Where did that come from and boy is he going to get it seemed to be his objective.

RUN...I thought...RUN...but where?  My oversized rubber snow boots did not help a lot, and in a short period of time I was discovered and caught still holding one of those tightly packed balls of snow.

My memory fails me here, and I do not exactly recall the events which followed.  Still alive and breathing I must have talked my way around this big fella's hands... or, more likely he must have felt this puny little guy certainly could not have thrown such a strike as received through his back window.  Be that as it may, I remember that perfect pitch.