While Hazel’s early years as a wife and mother were captured in city directories, newspaper articles, and census records, the years following in the 1940s tell a more complicated story. A brief but telling record gives us a glimpse into a significant and difficult chapter in the lives of Hazel and Thure Bergquist: their divorce and the custody battle for their daughters.
Court dockets publicly available online at FamilySearch.org help frame this event.
On October 30, 1944, Thure appeared in Plymouth County Court, petitioning for custody of his two daughters, Elaine and Brenda. By January 29, 1945, Thure was granted custody, and the divorce was finalized. While this record offers us a snapshot of the legal proceedings, it leaves many questions unanswered. The specific details of the divorce, including the reasons behind it, remain unclear.
💡 Genealogy Tip! It is important to note that court dockets, like record indexes, guide the researcher to the original record, they do not provide all of the detailed required to achieve reasonably exhaustive research.
💡 Genealogy Tip! In cases of divorce or custody disputes, the original court records can be a goldmine for understanding family dynamics. These documents often provide insight into the lives of your ancestors during tumultuous times.
What This Record Tells Us
This brief record offers valuable insight into a pivotal moment in Hazel’s life:
Custody Battle: Thure’s petition for custody and the eventual decision to grant him custody of Elaine and Brenda gives us an understanding of their family situation in 1944-1945.
Divorce Proceedings: While the details of the divorce itself are not revealed here, the record provides a date and context for Hazel and Thure’s legal separation.
A Glimpse into Hazel’s Life: The paternal custody decision, especially in the context of the time, raises questions about Hazel’s personal struggles—though the full story is still waiting to be uncovered.
This record leaves us with more questions than answers, but it’s a crucial piece in understanding Hazel’s life beyond the censuses and early family records. It’s a reminder that families are messy, with real people navigating difficult moments.
🧩 Future Research: While this index gives us an important starting point, there’s still much to uncover. The specifics of Hazel and Thure’s divorce and the circumstances surrounding Hazel’s custody loss remain unclear. To fully understand this chapter of Hazel’s life, seeking out the full divorce records at the Quincy court will be necessary. These records could provide more insight into the emotional and legal dynamics of the separation, shedding light on what happened during those years and offering a clearer view of Hazel’s struggles and resilience during this difficult period.
As I wrap up my January research block focusing on Hazel Quinn, and put the finishing touches on her biography, I am reflecting on not only all I’ve learned about her, but what I’ve learned from her….
Hazel’s life, from her birth on 19 May 1909 to her passing on 28 June 2000, was defined by strength and resilience. Records reveal a woman who faced loss, heartache, and multiple reinventions, but records cannot capture the spirit she left behind—a spirit that shaped the lives of her descendants, including my wife, Victoria, and our children.
More than a name in a family tree, Hazel weaves her story of hardship and triumph into the fabric of those who follow. Through fire, illness, divorce, and solitude, she persevered—her resilience offering a timeless lesson for us all.
Hazel teaches the value of community, hard work, and moving forward even when it seems impossible.
What I’ve learned from Hazel through this research is that her life was full of contrasts—quietly loving, sometimes stern, fiercely independent, but always real. Her kindness and wit live on, as do the lessons she imparted through both the tender and the fiery moments of her journey. I think I’ve come to believe that Hazel realized she was able to bring value to world without a husband, and that the only love she needed was that of her family.
Hazel’s legacy is a testament to the enduring will to persist, even when life doesn’t unfold as planned.Her story—still resonating in the lives of those she left behind—is the truest tribute we can offer to a woman who quietly showed her family how to live, and how to endure.
Though I didn’t find all the documents I hoped for in this research block, I actually discovered more about Hazel than I expected. There’s still more to explore, and February’s research block will shift focus to Thure Emanuel Bergquist, Hazel’s first husband and the father of her children. This does not mean in any way that I will be done telling her story, only that this specific part of my year-long project has come to an end. The beauty of this biography is that it can be expanded with more information, details, and memories about Hazel’s life at any time.
I hope I’ve done her proud by telling her story in a meaningful, respectful way.
To Hazel—I will ensure that your story, your life, and your love will continue to resonate with our children, and with generations to come!
Photograph of Hazel Quinn Krupa and her great-granddaughter, Victoria, taken in Whitman, Massachusetts, about 1993; digital image provided by my mother-in-law [name withheld for privacy], shown here with permission of photographer and living subject.
Published in The Brockton Enterprise on June 29, 2000, the death notice for Hazel Krupa offers a glimpse into the life of a remarkable woman who lived 91 years. Born to Marshall G. and Flora P. (Sabean) Quinn, Hazel’s life spanned multiple states, from Massachusetts, to New Jersey, and Florida. She always remained deeply connected to her roots, particularly through her lifelong membership in the Baptist Church.
Her legacy lived on in her daughters, and is now honored by her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Hazel’s career as an executive housekeeper for country clubs in various states shows her strength and versatility. Her impact extended beyond her immediate family, touching the lives of several nieces, nephews, and friends.
A note: Because all parties mentioned in this obituary are now deceased, I’m sharing this record here. For living individuals, I will make all efforts to protect their privacy.
💡 Genealogy Tip! Obituaries can be rich with family information—including names of surviving relatives, and sometimes the parents of the deceased, as well as other career details and affiliations. This information might not show up in any other records, so obituaries are a great way to connect the dots in your family tree and learn about an ancestor’s broader life.
⚖️ Conflict Resolution: The obituary gives Hazel’s birth place as Quincy, while we know for a fact that she was actually born in Brockton. This is an easy one. While obituaries are super helpful, they are only as accurate as the informants, writers, and publishers. More than likely, either one of Hazel’s daughters misspoke when providing information to the obituary writer, or the location got muddled further along the line between the funeral director providing information to the newspaper correspondent.
What This Record Tells Us
The obituary provides a lot of valuable details, and in this case helps corroborate much of the other information I’ve gathered in this research block.
Family Connections: The surviving daughters and sisters listed help us trace Hazel’s immediate family and understand her place in the broader family context.
Her Life’s Work: Her role as an executive housekeeper shows the kind of career she held and the environments she worked in, which adds depth to her personal history.
Community Ties: Her involvement with the Immanuel Baptist Church in Brockton shows how Hazel maintained connections with her faith and community all throughout her life.
After their marriage on May 19, 1933, Hazel and Thure settled into life together in Quincy, Massachusetts. They lived at 33 Cranch Street, where they shared a home with Thure’s mother, Louise Nord. It was a tight-knit setup, one that likely helped the young couple balance work and raising a family during the Great Depression.
💡 Genealogy Tip! When reviewing census records, don’t just focus on the head of the household. Look at everyone in the family, including in-laws and extended family, like Thure’s mother, Louise, in this case. Their presence can tell you a lot about the family dynamics and help you track down other records.
Family Growth and Community Involvement
The early years saw the arrival of two daughters:
Elaine Pearl Bergquist, born June 14, 1934.
Brenda Louise Bergquist, born September 13, 1939.
Note the elder daughter’s middle name was after Hazel’s mother, while the younger was a namesake for Thure’s mother.
Evidence suggests that both girls grew up surrounded by a close-knit family, with both of their parents being actively involved in the local community. Thure belonged to the Rural Lodge of Freemasons, and Hazel was a member of the Junior Women’s Union in Quincy.
While Thure was active in the Swedish Lutheran Church on Granite Street, Hazel worshiped at the Central Baptist Church. Religious differences were not unusual in the 1930s and 1940s, especially in a time when families were often more focused on practical matters—like supporting one another through the Great Depression and raising children—than on religious divisions. In this case, it’s likely that Thure and Hazel respected each other’s traditions, possibly attending each other’s services at different times or finding other ways to support one another’s spiritual practices.
In 1935, Hazel was mentioned in a local newspaper as the matron-of-honor at her sister Muriel’s wedding. The Bergquists were clearly rooted in Quincy, and their participation in events like these shows how Hazel balanced her role as a mother with her community involvement.
The 1940 Census: A Glimpse into Their Life
The 1940 U.S. Census offers a snapshot of the family during these years. Thure, now 40, worked as a supervisor in the shipbuilding industry—an essential role in a city like Quincy, which was known for its bustling shipyards during World War II. Hazel, 30, was a stay-at-home mom, looking after their two young daughters. They rented their home at 33 Cranch Street from Thure’s mother, Louise, who owned the property. The $20 monthly rent (about $450 in 2025, adjusting for inflation) was modest, but it shows the financial arrangements that likely helped Louise cover her mortgage payment.
The census also reveals that Louise had an income in the year 1939, logically at surface value this would be the rent she collected. However, it’s also worth mentioning, from family lore we know that Louise worked under the table as a private washerwoman, and occasionally as a baker for hire. Whatever the source, any additional income likely contributed to the family’s overall stability during these years.
💡 Genealogy Tip!Census records can provide crucial details about occupations, income, and living arrangements. For example, Thure’s $2,340 income in 1939 (roughly equivalent to $53,000 in 2025) is a key detail for understanding the family’s financial situation. His work as a supervisor likely meant stability during an uncertain time.
The Draft and Family Loss
In 1942, at the age of 42, Thure registered for the military draft. His draft card shows that, by this point, he had been employed at Bethlehem Shipbuilding for years. It also shows that his wife, Hazel, was his next of kin.
Their lives took a somber turn with the passing of Hazel’s mother, Flora Pearl Sabean, on March 10, 1943. Hazel, now in her early 30s, had to navigate the grief of losing her mother while raising two young daughters in a nation that was in the throes of war.
What These Records Tells Us
The records from 1933 to 1943 offer us an intimate look into Hazel and Thure’s married life, full of family, work, and community. Here’s what we learn:
Family Roots: Hazel and Thure’s home life was intertwined with family ties, as they lived with Thure’s mother, Louise. This extended family dynamic likely helped the young couple manage both raising children and maintaining a household.
Stable Employment: Thure’s steady work in shipbuilding and the family’s financial situation provide a clear picture of how they made ends meet during the Depression and early war years.
Community Involvement: Hazel stayed active in the community, showing that family and church played a significant role in their lives. Her involvement with the Junior Women’s Union and other local events gives us a sense of the social fabric of her world.
The Impact of War: Thure’s military draft registration card signals how the war was beginning to affect families across America, even those not directly serving.
When Hazel Quinn and Thure Bergquist said “I do” on May 19, 1933, it was more than just a romantic moment—it was an official genealogical milestone. This marriage record gives us fascinating insights into both Hazel’s life and the intersection of record-keeping practices in early 20th-century Massachusetts.
Fun fact—Hazel was married on her 24th birthday! May 19, 1933, wasn’t just a big day in her life for obvious reasons, but it also meant she and Thure shared a significant moment on an already special occasion.
💡 Genealogy Tip! Marriage certificates can be treasure troves of information, not just about the couple, but also about their families and the communities they were part of. This record, for example, reveals family names (including the groom’s Swedish roots) and offers insight into local church connections.
The Record Itself
This particular certificate was filed in Quincy (where the groom lived), and provides a snapshot of the union between 23-year-old Hazel and 33-year-old Thure. Let’s break it down:
Groom: Thure Emanuel Bergquist, 33, born in Sweden and working as a machinist, living on Cranch Street in Quincy.
The record notes his name was legally changed. On the surface this seems to reconcile the fact that his father is listed as Andrew Akerstrom. It’s apparent that Thure adopted his mother’s maiden name Bergquist. As any good detective or genealogist knows, there must be more to this story. Unfortunately, no leads in this record.
Bride: Hazel Elizabeth Quinn, 23, from Brockton, residing on North Main Street in Randolph, where we know her parents had set up shop. Hazel’s occupation? “At home” (we can all relate to that).
Hazel was the daughter of Marshall G. Quinn and Flora P. Sabean.
Remember how I noted that Hazel was married on her 24th birthday? Why does this record give her age as 23? You may have guessed the answer already. This was because her age was given on May 10, the date the intention of marriage was filed.
The marriage ceremony took place at 528 North Main Street, Randolph, by Reverend Eugene S. Philbrook of the First Baptist Church. His connection to the family was more than just clerical—he had a history of involvement with the Quinns, appearing alongside them in local news articles. A sweet touch of community and family ties!
💡 Genealogy Tip! This marriage record doesn’t explicitly say the ceremony took place at the Baptist Church or that Rev. Philbrook was a Baptist minister. Some sleuthing was needed to confirm. It’s always helpful to learn more about the officiants and venues where our ancestors married. For instance, Google the Baptist Church in Randolph today, and you’ll find 518 N Main St. But look up 528 N Main St., and the church pops up again. In this instance, the church grounds includes multiple street addresses.
Record-Keeping Practices
The marriage certificate is from Quincy, but the ceremony was in Randolph. Why? Back then, marriage certificates were often filed in both towns where the bride and groom lived. So, in this case, a duplicate certificate was filed in Randolph—the town where the ceremony actually occurred.
What This Record Tells Us
This marriage certificate offers us a wealth of insight into Hazel and Thure’s union, along with a glimpse into their lives and the local practices of the time:
Hazel’s Age and Birthplace: At 23, Hazel was at a typical marrying age for the time. Her birth in Brockton, Massachusetts, is confirmed, further solidifying her place in the local context.
Thure’s Background: Thure’s Swedish roots and occupation as a machinist show us his immigrant background and steady work in a growing industrial society.
Full Parents Names for Both: This tidbit is imperative for genealogists to connect one generation to the next.
Family Connections Solidified: Reverend Eugene S. Philbrook, who officiated their wedding, had ties to the family through local community events, hinting at the close-knit nature of the Quinn family in Randolph.
Record-Keeping: The marriage certificate was filed in Quincy, where the groom lived, but a duplicate was also filed in Randolph, where the ceremony occurred. This dual-record system was common at the time for couples living in different towns, and this record is a great example of that practice in action.
Together, these details piece together not just the specifics of Hazel and Thure’s marriage, but also provide a window into their lives, families, and the societal context they were part of. Plus, it’s a reminder that the best genealogical discoveries often come from the intersections of family, community, and historical paperwork.
Hazel Quinn’s story in the late 1920s and early 1930s is one of work, community involvement, and even a bit of adventure. Through city directories, census records, newspaper clippings, and a surprising passenger list, we can piece together the details of her young adult life.
1926–1927: Living at Home, Establishing Independence
The Randolph City Directory for 1926-27 lists Hazel and her parents, Marshall G. and F. Pearl Quinn, at “rear 547 N Main.” This tells us several things. First, Hazel was old enough to be included in the city directory, which typically listed adults or working members of a household. Her parent’s listing confirms her father’s continued employment with the Brockton Gas Light Company. The phrase “rear 547 N Main” suggests they lived in a smaller residence behind the main building, possibly a secondary dwelling or a tenement-style home.1
This small notation in the directory places Hazel firmly in Randolph during this period and confirms that, at least as of 1926-27, she was still living with her parents.
💡 Genealogy Tip! City directories can be invaluable for tracking ancestors between census years. They help pinpoint locations, occupations, and household members, though keep in mind that addresses may not be permanent residences—sometimes they indicate workplaces or temporary housing.
1928: Hazel Joins the Randolph Grange Fair
On August 13, 1928, 19-year-old Hazel Quinn was mentioned in The Boston Globe as a committee member for the Randolph Grange Fair. This agricultural and educational fair, held at Odd Fellows’ Hall, was a significant local event, bringing together farmers, artisans, and community members. Hazel served on the art and needlework committee, alongside her mother, Flora Pearl Quinn. Her father, Marshall Quinn, was also involved, serving on the manufactures and appliances committee.2
The Reverend Eugene S. Philbrook, Baptist Minister, was also involved with the Randolph Grange, he would go on to officiate Hazel’s marriage in 1933, and that of her sister Muriel in 1935.3
This tidbit gives us insight into Hazel’s community involvement—her participation suggests an interest in crafts or fine handiwork, or simply a willingness to contribute to local events.
💡 Genealogy Tip! Community events mentioned in newspapers can reveal more than just participation. They provide social context—what was important to your ancestor, who they worked alongside, and what local organizations they supported.
1930 Census: A Young Working Woman
Citation: 1930 U.S. census, Norfolk County, Massachusetts, Randolph Town, enumeration district (ED) 120, sheet 21-B, dwelling 321, family 349, Marshall G. Quinn household; imaged database, “United States, Census, 1930,” FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:33S7-9R4G-S8K).
By April 1930, the U.S. Census places Hazel, now 20 years old, living with her family in Randolph, Massachusetts. The Quinns resided on “Maiden Lane,” though there is some evidence that their actual address was on North Main Street.
Hazel was listed as a waitress in a lunchroom—a modest but important job during the early years of the Great Depression. Her younger siblings were still in school, while her brother Arnold worked at the same gas company as their father. The census also records that the family rented their home for $25 a month and owned a radio, a small luxury in that era.
💡 Genealogy Tip! Census records often include rent and mortgage amounts, radio ownership, and even whether a home was on a farm. All of these hints can suggest the economic standing of the enumerated. A caution: be sure to check with an inflation calculator to get a more realistic picture of an ancestors financial situation.
1932: Hazel Takes a Trip to the Bahamas!
In a surprising twist, Hazel Quinn appears on a passenger list for the S.S. Munamar, sailing from Nassau, Bahamas, on March 13, 1932, and returning to the Port of New York on March 16, 1932. At 22 years old, Hazel had taken an international trip—something that might not have been common for a young working woman in the early 1930s.
She was traveling with at least one companion, Grace Humphreys, a single 23-year-old woman from Amherst, Massachusetts. Their reasons for travel are unknown, but a cruise advertisement from February 1932 suggests that Nassau was being marketed as an escape from the harsh New England winter. It was only 60 hours from New York to Nassau, and a round trip five day excursion was marketed at $90 total. However, the records available do not tell us if the young women embarked on the thirteen day trip priced at $132, or the discounted five day fare.4
This brief adventure raises many questions—was this a leisure trip? A work-related journey? How did Hazel pay for her passage? Did Hazel and Grace save for months—or years—to afford it, or was it a special gift? Unfortunately, as is so often in genealogy, records sometimes leads to more questions, and some of these questions we may never know the answer to.
Whatever the case, young Hazel had a taste of international travel in the midst of the Great Depression.
Notably, Hazel’s return trip was delayed by thick fog, as reported in The Brooklyn Eagle on March 17, 1932. The S.S. Munamar, along with five other ships, had to wait to dock in New York Harbor due to poor visibility.5
💡 Genealogy Tip! Passenger lists can be a goldmine for genealogists. They often reveal not just travel history, but also addresses, travel companions, and even nationality status. If your ancestor traveled abroad, check newspapers for possible delays, accidents, or even social columns mentioning their journey!
What These Records Tell Us
The records from 1926 to 1932 paint a picture of Hazel Quinn’s early adulthood, showing us how she balanced work, community involvement, and a touch of adventure.
She lived with her family at various points, indicating strong family ties and financial practicality during the Great Depression.
She was active in the community, participating in the Randolph Grange Fair alongside her parents, which suggests she valued local events and traditions.
She worked as a waitress, an occupation that, while modest, was crucial in an era when many struggled to find employment.
She traveled internationally, taking a cruise to the Bahamas with a friend, which raises intriguing possibilities about her interests, financial situation, and social circle.
Together, these details bring Hazel to life—not just as a name in a record, but as a young woman navigating the 1920s and 1930s with determination, community spirit, and perhaps a bit of wanderlust. Her story reminds us that even everyday records can reveal extraordinary moments in an ancestor’s life.
Randolph, Holbrook and Avon Directory, 1926-1927 (Boston: R. L. Polk & Co., 1926), 97, Hazel E. Quinn; imaged database, “U.S., City Directories,” MyHeritage (https://www.myheritage.com), image 53 of 131. ↩︎
“Committees Names For Randolph Grange Fair,” The Boston Globe (Massachusetts), 13 August 1928, p. 4. ↩︎
For Hazel’s marriage certificate: Norfolk County, Massachusetts, marriage certificate no. 164 (1933), Bergquist-Quinn, Norfolk County Town Clerk’s Office. For Muriel’s marriage: “Miss Muriel Ellinor Quinn married Chester E. Gonier in Quincy,” The Quincy Evening News (Massachusetts), 30 September 1935. ↩︎
“Beware the Colds of March. Take a Munson Cruise to Tropic Sunshine,” Atlantic City Press (New Jersey), 29 February 1932, p. 4; and “54 hours to Nassau,” Chicago Daily Tribune, 09 March 1932, p. 20; see https://www.bls.gov/data/inflation_calculator.htm for inflation calculation. ↩︎
“6 Incoming Liners Delayed by Thick Fog Over Harbor,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (New York), 17 March 1932, M2-19. ↩︎
By early 1920, Hazel Quinn—just ten years old—found herself at the center of a family besieged by misfortune. The winter had already been merciless, with the Quinns losing their farmhouse to a devastating fire in December 1919. Forced to relocate to Jay, Maine, they barely had time to settle before tragedy struck again.
Citation: 1920 U.S. census, Franklin County, Maine, Jay (town), enumeration district (ED) 53, sheet 12-A, dwelling 241, family 253, “Matthew” Quinn household; imaged database, “United States, Census, 1920,” FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:33S7-9R6G-6KH).
A Family in Recovery
On February 2, 1920, the U.S. census taker arrived in Jay to record the Quinn household, but it’s unlikely he spoke directly to Marshall or Pearl. The family had just suffered through weeks of illness and loss. Just days prior Pearl had given birth to an infant that died at birth. Not only did Pearl fall ill with tonsillitis, and Marshall contract pneumonia, but scarlet fever also had torn through the household, affecting all of the children except for the oldest son Bernard.
Hazel, like most of her siblings, was still recovering as the enumerator marked down the details of a family in crisis.
The census lists Hazel alongside her parents and seven siblings, but errors abound. Her father, Marshall, is incorrectly recorded as “Matthew,” her sister Muriel has become a brother “John,” and her brother Handley appears as “Harlow.” The Quinns, likely too weak or preoccupied to provide information themselves, may have had their details given by a neighbor or local official. But who?
Reliability of Informants
A clue to the source of these errors comes from a Lewiston Evening Journal article published just days later, on February 9, 1920. The piece describes how the town’s Board of Health chairman, H. H. Allen, had arranged for a man and woman to come care for the ailing Quinn family.
It was very likely this couple spoke to the census enumerator. With the Quinns still recovering from illness and loss, they may have relied on these caretakers to provide household information—leading to the many mistakes in the record.
This census record for the Quinn family, while valuable, contains misrecorded names and minor age discrepancies—errors significant enough that some researchers have mistakenly identified it as an entirely different family. I even once received an email from a descendant convinced this record couldn’t possibly belong to the Quinns. However, a careful review of all available evidence helps clarify the source of these mistakes and resolve the conflicting details.
Hazel’s Battle with Scarlet Fever
Hazel had already endured the shock of fleeing her burning home in freezing temperatures, losing nearly all her belongings, and witnessing her heavily pregnant mother’s harrowing escape. But the ordeal didn’t end there. In the aftermath of the fire, she, along with six of her siblings, fell ill with scarlet fever, an infectious disease that often proved fatal in the days before antibiotics.
The illness left the Quinns quarantined, isolated from the community just when they needed support the most. Hazel would have experienced the fever, rash, and throat pain that accompanied the disease, all while confined to a new, unfamiliar house. For a child, the combination of fear, loss, and physical suffering must have been overwhelming.
A Record of Survival
For Hazel Quinn, this census entry captures a pivotal moment in her early life—one of uncertainty, resilience, and recovery. At just ten years old, she was living through the aftermath of a devastating house fire and a serious scarlet fever outbreak, events that undoubtedly shaped her childhood. But despite the hardships, her family remained together, rebuilding their lives.
The census alone cannot tell a full story. It is a snapshot, and we must use other records to piece together the challenges the family faced during this time. And through all of those small details compounded, we catch a glimpse of their perseverance.
What This Record Tells Us
Beyond the errors, this census still offers key insights into Hazel’s world at the start of 1920:
Marshall Quinn is misrecorded as “Matthew,” and several children’s names are incorrect, possibly because the information was provided by someone outside the family.
As corroborated by other records, Marshall was working as a laborer in a nearby pulp mill.
The four oldest children normally attended school. They could all read and write.
At ten years old, Hazel was one of the eldest children, likely helping care for her younger siblings as the family rebuilt their lives.
From this brief snapshot in time, we see not just names on a page, but a family navigating hardship with quiet determination. As Hazel grew, her surroundings and circumstances would change, but the resilience shown in this census hints at the strength that carried her forward.
By the time the 1910 U.S. Census rolled around, little Hazel Elizabeth Quinn had gone from a newborn in her parents’ Brockton home to a toddling one-year-old nestled in a multi-generational household. This snapshot of her early life gives us a vivid look at family dynamics, immigration stories, and—once again—some eyebrow-raising details about her father’s age and birthplace.
Citation: 1910 U.S. census, Plymouth County, Massachusetts, Brockton Ward 1, enumeration district (ED) 1180, sheet 8-B, dwelling 131, family 170, Handly [sic] Sabean household; imaged database, “United States, Census, 1910,” FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:33S7-9RVP-QKB).
The Sabean Household at 63 Wheeler Avenue
On April 23, 1910, census enumerator Hattie Doane made her way down Wheeler Avenue in Brockton, Massachusetts, clipboard in hand. At number 63, she recorded the residents of the Handley Sabean household—a lively home packed with four generations under one roof.
Hazel, her two-year-old brother Bernard, and their parents—Marshall and Flora Pearl Quinn—were living with Flora’s parents, Handley and Ella Sabean. Alongside them were three of Flora’s younger siblings: Ella, Clarence, and Ernest. And to round things out, Hazel’s great-grandmother, Mary A. Cogswell, also lived in the household. It was a full house in every sense.
The Working Men of the Household
Hazel’s grandfather, Handley Sabean, was a provisions dealer, which meant he was in the business of supplying meat and other goods—likely a steady trade in an industrial city like Brockton. His son-in-law, Marshall Quinn, continued his work as a gas fitter, helping to install and maintain gas lighting and appliances. Both men were recorded as able to read and write, a sign of their social standing in a time when literacy wasn’t yet universal.
The Women Who Ran the Home
Like many women of the era, Hazel’s mother, Flora Pearl, and her grandmother, Ella, had no occupation listed in the census. That, of course, didn’t mean they weren’t working—it simply meant their work wasn’t considered part of the official economy. Raising children, maintaining a household, and caring for elderly relatives were all full-time jobs. We also know that Pearl worked for private clients as a seamstress and milliner, skills she may have learned from her mother Ella, and grandmother Mary.
Marshall Quinn’s Massachusetts Mystery Continues
Once again, we find Hazel’s father, Marshall Quinn, shifting his birthplace to Massachusetts. If this sounds familiar, it’s because this wasn’t the first—or last—time Marshall strayed from the truth about where he was born. As discussed in a previous post, Marshall was actually born 21 April 1871 in Tatamagouche, Nova Scotia, but throughout his life, he frequently claimed Massachusetts instead.
Adding to the confusion, this census reports Marshall’s age as 33. That’s a problem because, based on the available evidence, he should have been 38. His fluctuating age had been a recurring theme in records before his 1907 marriage to Flora Pearl Sabean, after which it finally stabilized. Did he shave off a few years to seem closer in age to his younger wife? Possibly. Or maybe he just found it easier to keep up with the version of events he’d already been using. Regardless of why these inconsistencies appear, one thing is clear: The 1910 Census adds yet another layer to the ongoing puzzle of Marshall Quinn’s evolving identity.
Given that we know Marshall’s mother was a McIntyre from Canada, it’s tempting to wonder if the neighboring McIntyre family on this census page was a distant relation, but that’s a mystery for another day.
Life at 63 Wheeler: A Glimpse Into the Past
For Hazel Quinn, this census entry represents her second earliest recorded place in history. At just a year old, she was too young to understand the importance of that moment—too young to know that 114 years later, someone would be reading about her in a genealogy blog. But thanks to this simple document, we can imagine her world:
A house filled with family, from a great-grandmother to younger uncles and aunts.
A father working in the gas industry during a time of rapid urban expansion.
A mother caring for two young children while sharing a home with extended relatives.
As Hazel grew up, her surroundings would change, but this census gives us an early glimpse into the people and places that shaped her childhood. The next time we find her on record, she may be a school-aged girl, beginning to leave her own mark on the world.
Until then, this snapshot of the Sabean household reminds us that family history isn’t just about names and dates—it’s about people, their choices, and the stories hidden in the details of a census form.
On May 19, 1909, the city of Brockton, Massachusetts, welcomed a brand-new resident to 23 Glenwood Street—Hazel Elizabeth Quinn. The paperwork might be official and straightforward, but this simple birth record holds more than just names and dates. It gives us a tiny window into the lives of her parents, the place she was born, and even a few genealogical breadcrumbs that tell us where to look next.
A Gas Fitter and a Canadian Bride
Hazel’s father, Marshall G. Quinn, listed his profession as a gas fitter. While that might not sound glamorous today, in 1909, gas was still a primary source of lighting and heating in many homes, and the transition to electricity was only just beginning. So, in a way, Marshall was in the business of bringing light to the world—a fitting metaphor for a man welcoming his firstborn daughter.
Her mother, F. Pearl Sabean, hailed from New Brunswick, Canada. The Sabeans were a well-documented family in the Maritime Provinces, and Pearl’s family had made the journey south to Massachusetts in her infancy.
Brockton: More Than Just Shoes
Brockton was a booming city in the early 20th century, known as the “Shoe City” due to its thriving shoe manufacturing industry. It was a city of opportunity, drawing in skilled workers and young families. Marshall and Pearl, like so many others, were part of this community—seeking work, stability, and a future for their growing family.
A Curious Case of Geography: Where Was Marshall Really Born?
One peculiar detail in Hazel’s birth record is her father’s reported birthplace: “Newton Centre.” While this might seem like a simple fact, it’s actually a genealogical curveball. Marshall George Quinn was not born in Newton Centre—he was born in Nova Scotia, Canada.
This isn’t the only time he claimed a Massachusetts birthplace—during this period of his life, Marshall frequently reported being from the U.S. instead of Canada. Why? There are a few possible explanations:
Was It About Appearances? — At a time when immigration status could influence social standing and employment opportunities, Marshall may have chosen to present himself as more American. A Massachusetts birthplace might have made life a little easier in a country where Canadian-born workers sometimes faced discrimination.
A Family Connection to Newton Centre? — Marshall did have relatives living in Newton Centre, so perhaps he used the name of a familiar place. If he had spent time there growing up or visiting family, he might have claimed it as his own to simplify things.
A Misunderstanding or Phonetic Mix-Up? — Another intriguing theory: Could “Newton Centre” have been a misunderstanding of New Annan Center? New Annan Center is a real community in Nova Scotia, just about 9 miles from Tatamagouche, where Marshall’s family was consistently enumerated in Canadian censuses. If he mentioned “New Annan Center” aloud, a Massachusetts clerk unfamiliar with Nova Scotia geography might have misheard or assumed he meant Newton Centre, a well-known town much closer to home.
Whatever the reason, this is a great example of how records—even official ones—aren’t always 100% accurate. For genealogists, it’s a reminder to verify information across multiple sources before taking any single document at face value.
A Delayed Paper Trail
Another interesting detail: Hazel’s birth wasn’t officially registered until February 1, 1910—more than eight months after the fact. While this wasn’t unusual, it does highlight the need for genealogists to check a broad range of dates when hunting down birth records. Life gets busy, and sometimes parents (or city clerks) didn’t rush to file paperwork.
What This Record Tells Us
At first glance, this birth certificate might seem like a routine document, but it’s packed with valuable information:
Hazel’s exact birth date and place (critical for tracking future records).
Her parents’ names and birthplaces—even if one of them requires further scrutiny.
Her father’s occupation, which hints at the kind of life the family led in Brockton.
The family’s address, which allows us to track them in census records or city directories.
With this foundation, we can now follow Hazel’s story forward—through childhood, marriage, and beyond. But for today, we’ll pause to appreciate the moment she entered the world, a tiny but significant addition to the Quinn and Sabean family trees.
And so, with an official signature and a stamp on a ledger page, Hazel Elizabeth Quinn took her first step into history—whether her father’s birthplace was correctly recorded or not!
In Part 2, we followed Marshall and Pearl Quinn as they left the industrial bustle of Massachusetts for the promise of a quieter life on a farm in Canton Point, Maine. This bold move brought moments of joy, including the birth of their eighth child, Eloise, but it also tested their resilience in unimaginable ways. From a devastating house fire that destroyed their home and belongings, to the tragic loss of their newborn son and a series of illnesses that swept through the family, the Quinns endured profound hardship. Yet, amid these trials, Pearl’s creativity and determination shone through—whether sewing garments to support the family or earning a rare legal victory over unpaid work. By 1921, however, the weight of these challenges prompted the family to leave rural Maine behind and return to Massachusetts, where they sought to rebuild their lives once more.1
By 1921, the Quinns embodied resilience, yet challenges still lay ahead. Their departure from Maine was marked only by a brief mention in the Androscoggin County directory: “M.G. Quinn, removed to Mass.”2 This understated note closed the chapter on their time in rural Maine and began a new one in Randolph, Massachusetts.
Wasting no time, Pearl took charge of their fresh start by advertising her skills in The Boston Transcript. She offered services in sewing, repairs, and alterations, along with crafting and trimming ladies’ hats, catering to private clients in the Randolph area and beyond.3 Her resourcefulness and determination were evident as she sought to reestablish herself and her family.
Pearl’s want ad ran on 20 June 1921, but just weeks later, she faced another profound heartbreak. On 03 July 1921, Pearl gave birth to a stillborn son, whose brief existence was documented in vital records simply as “Infant Quinn.” According to the return of birth, the child was delivered at the family’s home on West Street in Randolph by Dr. F. C. Granger. The death certificate noted the cause of the stillbirth was “unknown,” and that the infant was laid to rest at Central Cemetery in Randolph on 05 July, with Cartwright K. Hurley serving as undertaker. Family lore suggests the baby might have been called David, perhaps in honor of Marshall’s father, who had passed away just six months earlier in Nova Scotia.4
Life carried on in Randolph as the Quinns focused on rebuilding their stability. Marshall resumed his position as a foreman at the Brockton Gas Light Company, while the family settled into a more permanent home on North Main Street. They reconnected with their community through the Randolph Grange, a vibrant center of agricultural and civic engagement, and became members of the local First Baptist Church. For Pearl, faith remained a guiding cornerstone, offering strength and purpose amid life’s challenges.5
The following summer brought heartbreak to the Quinn family with the loss of an infant son, Roy. Born at home on North Main Street in Randolph on 03 August 1922, Roy survived for only 12 hours due to a congenital heart defect. The attending physician, Dr. Augustus L. Chase, recorded the details of his brief life and passing, and Roy was laid to rest at Central Cemetery in Randolph.6
Yet the summer of 1926 brought another complicated pregnancy. On 27 August, Pearl delivered a baby girl at Brockton Hospital. Tragically, the child succumbed to hemorrhagic disease on 30 August, a rare and fatal condition that prevents blood clotting. This marked the sixth child the Quinns had lost and the fifth buried at Central Cemetery in Randolph.7 The depth of their grief was beyond comprehension, yet the relentless demands of life, and eight thriving and active children, required them to find a way to carry on.
Marshall and Pearl remained deeply involved in the Randolph Grange, contributing their time and talents to the annual fairs. Marshall served on the committee for manufactures and appliances, while Pearl and their daughter Hazel worked together on the art and needlework committee. The fairs also offered moments of joy amidst life’s challenges. In 1928, Pearl won a prize in the flower department, showcasing her skill as a gardener. The following year, her talents extended to the kitchen, earning her a ribbon in the bread and pastry display.8
Marshall’s work with the Brockton Gas Light Company occasionally placed him at the center of unexpected events. In 1923, he reported the theft of a company truck from his garage, an incident that made local headlines. Later, in 1929, his steady professional trajectory was reflected in his promotion to inspector, as noted in the city directory. However, not all news was routine—he was also present during a weekend heist that left the company’s office safe discarded behind a hedge, emptied of $50. These events painted a picture of Marshall as a man navigating the unpredictable nature of his work with resilience and perseverance.9
The 1930s ushered in a whirlwind of change for the Quinn family, marked by marriages, mischief, and moves. The Quinns had planted roots in Randolph, Massachusetts, and the 1930 U.S. Census painted a clearer picture of life there on “Maiden Lane” (or perhaps North Main Street—the jury’s still out on that).10
The 1930 Quinn household consisted of Marshall and Pearl, along with their seven children. Marshall rented their home for $25 per month, and yes, they owned a radio—the 1930s version of a family Netflix subscription. Marshall worked as a laborer for the gas company, while Pearl managed the household. The eldest at home was now Hazel, age 20, working as a waitress in a lunchroom. Arnold, 18, followed in his father’s footsteps as a gas company laborer. The younger kids—Muriel, Handley, Phyllis, Melba, and Eloise—ranged from 17 to 11 and were all attending school.11
Life in Randolph wasn’t without drama. In September 1931, Melba, then 14, made headlines alongside her friend Daisy Smith. The girls vanished after planning to attend a movie in Brockton. According to The Boston Globe, Melba and Daisy weren’t keen on returning to school and hinted they might run away. The article described Melba as a striking young lady, wearing a black dress with white lace collar and cuffs. Thankfully, the runaway adventure didn’t last long, and Melba returned home to resume her studies (and presumably some serious grounding).12
Despite the hustle and bustle, Pearl found time for her musical talents, delivering vocal performances at Grange gatherings and community events. Her soprano renditions of “The Old Refrain” and “Ashes of Roses” garnered applause,13 showcasing her ability to brighten even the dreariest New England days. Marshall had reason to celebrate too, when on 13 January 1939 the superior court at Brockton granted him United States citizenship—nearly five decades after he first arrived in the country.14
Starting in 1932, the Quinn children began marrying and embarking on new chapters of their own. Bernard tied the knot with Louise Sawtelle in Boston at Tremont Temple.15 In 1933, Hazel followed suit, marrying Thure Emanuel Bergquist, a machinist originally from Sweden. Their wedding was officiated by Rev. Eugene S. Philbrook—a close family associate—at the First Baptist Church in Randolph.16
Not to be outdone, in 1934, Phyllis Quinn married Eldon Lindberg, a second generation Swedish shoe worker from Brockton, in a ceremony in Salem, New Hampshire.17 Muriel wed next in 1935, Melba followed in 1936, and Arnold married in 1937.18
One of the Quinns again made headlines in August 1936, when Phyllis was reported missing by her husband Eldon Lindberg, sparking a police search. According to the articles, Phyllis, then 20 years old, had been working as a caregiver for a family on Torrey Ave and was last seen leaving their home around midnight. She had even called for a taxi, but seemingly vanished.19 The papers never seemed to follow up on this, but Phyllis was obviously eventually found.20 Nevertheless, the incident offers a glimpse into the kinds of worries Marshall and Pearl faced as their children became young adults.
With three children enumerated at home for the 1940 U.S. Census, the Quinns did not have to worry about an empty nest. After about a decade in Randolph, they had moved to 13 Park Street in Brockton, Massachusetts, where Pearl maintained the household, while Bernard, living back at home (claiming to be a widower while actually divorced), worked as a salesman. Handley, 25, was a welder at a local shipyard. Eloise, at 21, was seeking work. Marshall continued working for the Brockton Gas Company, earning $1,664 annually (about $38,000 in 2025, adjusted for inflation).21 Handley would marry later that same year to Arlene Lindberg—the sister of Eldon, Phyllis’ husband—marking another marriage between a Quinn and a Swede.22
The family’s stability was soon tested. On 10 March 1943, Flora Pearl passed away at the New England Baptist Hospital in Boston after a prolonged battle with chronic myocarditis and nephritis, conditions that had plagued her for two years. Her final week was marked by the tragedy of a uremic coma, a devastating turn that left her family powerless to ease her suffering. Marshall, acting as both informant and grieving husband, faced the unimaginable loss of his wife of over three decades. At just 56 years old, Pearl’s passing surely left a profound void in the family. Two days later, she was laid to rest in Melrose Cemetery, Brockton, mourned by loved ones grappling with the weight of her absence and the heartbreak of her final days.23
In the following decade, Marshall’s circumstances began to change as well. By the late 1940s, he was living with his daughter Phyllis and her family in Stoughton, Massachusetts. No longer working, he was now supported by his son-in-law Eldon Lindberg. The 1950 U.S. Census lists Marshall as a “father-in-law” in the Lindberg household. He was no longer working and was noted as being unable to do so, the toll of his years catching up with him.24
Marshall George Quinn’s life came to a close on 03 November 1951 at 17 Ninth Street in Stoughton, where he lived with his daughter Phyllis and her family. His death certificate noted hypostatic pneumonia as the direct cause, preceded by an abscess of the face and a long history of arteriosclerosis.25 In his 80 years, he had seen considerable change. Born in Nova Scotia, Canada, he emigrated to the U.S. in search of better opportunities, like many others of his time. This proud Canadian-born man who had worked hard all his life and raised a family, was buried in the Melrose Cemetery in Brockton, beside his wife Flora Pearl.26
1920-1921 Androscoggin County, Maine Directory (Auburn, Maine: Merrill & Webber Co., 1921); “Androscoggin County (Maine) directories,” imaged database, FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org/search/film/009180085); entry for “Quinn, M.G., removed to Mass.” ↩︎
Want adds page, The Boston Transcript, 20 Jun 1921, p. 15. ↩︎
For the birth record see, Norfolk Co., Massachusetts, 1921 birth return no. 60, Quinn [male child], 03 Jul. For death see, Norfolk Co., Massachusetts, 1921 death certificate no. 42, Quinn [male child], 03 Jul. Family lore dictated to the author by Brenda (Bergquist) Pickett in 2013 indicated that the child was called David. For Marshall’s father David Patriquin’s death date, see “Nova Scotia Death Registrations, 1864-1877; 1908-1973,” imaged database, Nova Scotia Archives (https://archives.novascotia.ca/vital-statistics/ItemView/?ImageFile=98-711&Event=death&ID=178903), death certificate for David Patriquin, registered no. 711, 31 January 1920, New Glasgow, Pictou Co. ↩︎
R. L. Polk & Co., Randolph, Holbrook and Avon Directory, 1926-1927(Boston: R. L. Polk & Co., 1926), p. 97, entries for Hazel E. Quinn, r. rear 547 N Main, and G. Marshall Quinn, foreman, Brockton Gas Light Co., h. rear 547 N Main; imaged in “U.S., City Directories,” database with images, MyHeritage.com (https://www.myheritage.com/research/record-10705-17210106/g-marshall-quinn-in-us-city-directories), image 53. ↩︎
For the birth record see, Norfolk Co., Massachusetts, 1922 birth return no. 51, Roy Quinn, 03 August. For death see, Norfolk Co., Massachusetts, 1922 death certificate no. 47, Roy Quinn, 04 August. ↩︎
For newspapers referenced see, “How and Whence Safe Vanished: A Puzzle, But Chief Solves It,” The Boston Globe (Boston, Suffolk, Massachusetts), 27 November 1928, p. 15; OldNews.com (https://www.oldnews.com/en/record?record_id=record-12013-644875335). As well as, “Truck Stolen From Randolph Garage,” The Boston Globe, 11 June 1923, p. 20; Newspapers.com (https://www.newspapers.com/image/430297331/). For Marshall’s occupation see, 1929 Brockton Directory (Boston: W. A. Greenough Co., 1929), 97 and 321, entries for Marshall Quinn. ↩︎
There was a building on the corner of North Main Street and Maiden Lane, owned by Mrs. Erasmo Camelio, which was burned in a fire October 1, 1931, see “Randolph Fire Believed of Incendiary Origin,” The Boston Globe, 1 October 1931, page 3. The building consisted of two stores, and two tenements, which were vacant at the time. The Quinn household may have been proximal to this building. I speculate that the home address may have been on North Main and not Maiden Lane. ↩︎
1930 U.S. census, Norfolk Co., Mass., population schedule, Randolph, ED 11-120, sheet 21B, dwell./fam. 321/349, Marshall G. Quinn household, lines 85-93, enumerated 14 April 1930; digital image, Ancestry.com (https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/6224/images/4607673_00583); citing National Archives and Records Administration microfilm publication T626, roll 2340672. ↩︎
“Dorchester and Randolph Girls of 14 are Missing.” The Boston Globe (Massachusetts), 11 September 1931, p. 4; digital image, Newspapers.com (https://www.newspapers.com/image/431266512). ↩︎
City of Quincy, Massachusetts, certificate of marriage, registered no. 164, intention no. 150, Office of the Secretary, Division of Vital Statistics, Hazel Elizabeth Quinn and Thure Emanuel Bergquist, 19 May 1933, Randolph, Massachusetts; received 20 December 2024 from the Quincy City Clerk’s Office; for the families relationship with Rev. Philbrook see, “Committees Named…,” Boston Globe (Massachusetts), 13 August 1928, p. 4. ↩︎
“New Hampshire, U.S., Marriage and Divorce Records, 1659-1947,” database with images, Ancestry.com (https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/5241/images/41267_309277-00796) > Marriage > 1901–1937 > Langevin, T – Lapointe, A > images 797–798 of 3426, marriage of Phyllis P. Quinn and Eldon R. C. Lindberg, in Salem, Rockingham County, New Hampshire, 14 March 1934; citing “New Hampshire, Marriage and Divorce Records, 1659–1947,” New England Historical Genealogical Society and New Hampshire Bureau of Vital Records, Concord. ↩︎
Her life is thoroughly documented after this incident. ↩︎
1940 U.S. census, Plymouth County, Massachusetts, Brockton Ward 2, population schedule, enumeration district (ED) 12-28, sheet 4A, lines 23-27, Marshall Quinn household, house number 13 Park Street; digital image, Ancestry (https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/2442/images/m-t0627-01635-00750 : accessed 26 December 2024); citing National Archives and Records Administration microfilm publication T627, roll 1635; for inflation calculator see, Federal Reserve Bank of Minneapolis, “Inflation Calculator,” (Minneapolis, MN: https://www.minneapolisfed.org/about-us/monetary-policy/inflation-calculator), “$1664.00 in 1940 is worth $37353.17 in 2024.”; for proof of Bernard’s separation from Louise see, “New Hampshire, U.S., Marriage Records, 1700-1971,” database with images, Ancestry.com (https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/5241/images/41267_312143-02005), marriage of Louise Almira Quinn and William Anthony Joyce, 12 August 1940, Portsmouth, New Hampshire. ↩︎
“U.S., Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, Swedish American Church Records, 1800-1947,” database with images, Ancestry.com (https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/61584/images/47830_554717-01047) > USA > Massachusetts > Brockton (Campello) > First Lutheran Church (Bethesda); record for Handley S. Sabean and Arlene Julia O. Lindberg, 28 November 1940. ↩︎
The Commonwealth of Massachusetts, Department of Public Health, Registry of Vital Records and Statistics, death certificate no. 2480, Flora Quinn, 10 March 1943, Boston, Suffolk County; received 13 January 2025 from Registrar, via VitalChek; also “Massachusetts, U.S., Death Index, 1951–1955,” database with images, Ancestry.com (https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/3659/images/41263_2421406273_0086-00316) > 1941-1945 > Naan-Sheehy > digital image 317 of 590, entry for Flora (Sabean) Quinn, 1943, Boston, referencing vol. 10, p. 415, index vol. 104. ↩︎
1950 U.S. census, Norfolk County, Massachusetts, Stoughton, enumeration district 11-308, sheet 71, lines 28-30, and sheet 72, lines 15-16, Eldon R. Lindberg household; digital images, Ancestry.com (https://www.ancestry.com/search/collections/62308/records/156776391); U.S. Department of Commerce, Bureau of the Census, Population Schedules for the 1950 Census (Washington, DC: National Archives, 1950), NAID 43290879. Note: these are “out of order” sheets, per the enumerator. ↩︎
Stoughton, Norfolk County, Massachusetts, death certificate no. 93, Marshall George Quinn, died 3 November 1951; filed 5 November 1951; Town Clerk’s Office, Stoughton. Certified copy received by Christopher M. Lather, 23 December 2024. ↩︎
Find a Grave, database and images (https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/150039430/flora_pearl-quinn: accessed January 10, 2025), memorial page for Flora Pearl Sabean Quinn (1887–1943), Find a Grave Memorial ID 150039430, citing Melrose Cemetery, Brockton, Plymouth County, Massachusetts, USA; Maintained by LogicalGMW (contributor 47846471). ↩︎
