I have ferreted out a little more information about the family of George from his sisters, although he knew nothing about them at all, personally. George's father was George William Chaney, we believe, although every now and then there is a discussion which puts it as William George Chaney. He died June 1, 1957. He married Annie Elizabeth Downey. Annie was a beautiful girl; we have a photograph of her. She died early, when George was about nine years old, of kidney failure. There were seven children left to be taken care of. I understand that this couple was separated at some time in their lives, just before Doris was born, but were together again, until Annie's death. The father was a rather irresponsible person who cannot face the prospect of taking care of all these children alone, and abandoned his family to become an alcoholic. George makes much ado about the fact that his father was well known around their home town of Laurel, Maryland by the nickname of "Flick". Not knowing about the origin of this name it sounds a little obscene to me, but George is still proud of the fact that he was known as "Little Flick". The children were put out in foster homes until they became of age. After they were all gown, they resumed the acquaintance of their father who had by then remarried a rather undesirable person, whom they all disliked, but they tried to hold on to their father's image. The children - Francis, Margaret, Doris, Shirley, Helen, and Aubrey - have managed over the years to reclaim their relationships to a limited degree, but it has been hard because of the long separations early in life.
George and I visit all of them very occasionally, although in the early stages of our marriage it was possible to see more of them, than now. At that time, his older brother, Francis, lived in Baltimore and we were close friends with him and his wife, Emma. They were the Godparents of our son, John. Margaret and Jerry (Kulisek) have always lived near Washington at Morningside, Maryland. And we have been close friends also. Doris and Shirley live in the vicinity of Washington D.C. and it has been difficult to keep up with them for various reasons. Doris died a few years ago, shortly after her husband's death. But on one family occasion or another, we visit about once a year. George's brother, Aubrey, known to him as "Buster", died during WWII as the result of a ruptured appendix. I never knew him. Helen, married to a handsome guy named Francis Mitchell, lived in Annapolis and we visited them often until Francis's death. Helen is now deceased also.
Margaret seemed to know what little there is to be passed on concerning past generations of the family. Helen added a few details. George, their father, had three sisters - Bernice, Kate, and Pearl. Bernice married Sylvester Hutchins. Kate married someone who's last name was Bryant; Pearl is in limbo, with no information.
George William and Annie Elizabeth lived in Laurel, Maryland. They were apparently Catholic by religion, since my husband went to the Catholic School in Laurel. They are both buried in Ivy Hill Cemetery in Laurel.
George William's father was Dennis Patrick Chaney. I have no further information concerning him or his ancestors.
Annie Elizabeth's parents were Charles Downey and Florence Federline. There were at least eight children born of this marriage, with a "couple died in infancy, named unknown". Annie's siblings were; Minnie, married Sam Dwyer; Elsie, married Phillip Mitchell (I knew this couple who were very nice, since George's sister, Helen, lived in their home until the death of Elsie and Phillip. The Mitchell family was of well known and respected ancestry.) Katherine (?Kathleen) died of tuberculosis, unmarried; Etta, married Howard Wooden (both of these people died in Pennsylvania of tuberculosis). Gus, married Elva (I knew this couple who were well known in Laurel, well to do, and quite respected in the town. They were pleasant people, and kind.) Charles, married Blanche; and Alma. This one must have been a real rebel. She and a soldier stationed at Ft Meade attempted a robbery, killed a man. She was pregnant at the time. She and the child, unborn, died in prison. The soldier also died in prison. Sad story!
Helen told me that Dennis Patrick Chaney and Charles Downey, both met the same fate - they were killed in barn yards by charging bulls!
I know nothing else concrete. I have run into the Chaney name in Southern Maryland many times in the course of my own genealogy search and have been told that the immigrant to this country was one Richard Cheyney, but with so little to go on I have never had the courage to attempt to trace George's history. If I ever complete my own, it is my wish to do this. One time when discussing genealogy with Mr Filby at the Maryland Historical Society, he asked me what I knew about this family, and upon hearing my "nothing", he laughed and said I really should get into it, because when George Washington threw that dollar across the river in the time-honored tradition, there was a Richard Chaney watching and betting he wouldn't make it. From George's proclivity, I'd like to bet it's a true story.
George himself deserves a description. He can probably best be summed up thusly; if there were a Coat of Arms for him there would emblazoned on its surface, "Wine, Women, Song, and Manyana!" He defies description. He is mercurial. A charming exterior, he is hampered by a lack of education because of his unfortunate childhood. He is dictatorial but if one has the patience to cajole, he can be persuaded to become less adamant. He loves almost everybody in the world but finds in extremely hard to even attempt to show affection for his own son, John, who has always been a rebel. They are always at loggerhead. John has always wanted to be just like his father (and God knows, he is) but when they each look at the other and see what they abhor in themselves, they can't deal with it. I am always in the middle. It's not a pleasant place to be.
George often boasts about the fact that after the children were born he went away and didn't come back until they were grown. He thinks that it's clever and funny - naturally, I did not. I had to assume the responsibility and work of caring for them and keeping up with their varied interests in sports and theater, etc. as well as their education. George had his work during the day and was gone every night to indulge his interests in softball, bowling, cards, you name it. We really did see very little of him.
But now that he has grandchildren, he adores them and faithfully follows the images in his mind of what grandfathers are supposed to do. Television has no doubt educated him in this respect. He spoiled these children mercilessly and their parents have finally given up trying to interfere with this because he just brushes them off with his "I'm their grandfather and grandfather's are supposed to do this!"
After George had spent several years in a foster home in Laurel with the Ted Seilers, he was sent at the age of 16 to work on a farm in Howard County with the Roy Crum family. That is where we met. He really loved farm life after the trauma experienced after the death of his mother. He feels that Roy and Kate Crum are more like parents than his own poorly remembered ones. But he longed for adventure always, and when the war began I believe he must've been the first person to volunteer. He went into the Naval Air Force and was put into the ordinance department. He served all up and down the east coast of the country and his main work was putting out the flying targets behind planes so that Navy ships and planes could practice artillery firing. He loved to fly and it seems that is where he would be happiest - not hampered by rules and regulations and demands - just free! As far as George is concerned, laws are made for other people - he should be allowed to do exactly what he wants to do. His lack of respect for parking regulations is legendary - we spent a fortune paying for traffic tickets because he simply would not pay any attention to parking signs and would park wherever he could find a convenient spot. After long years of this extravagance he finally saw the light, however. (John is like this, actually. If he sees a sign saying "do not walk on the grass" he will walk right over the grass and over the sign, just to show he can do it, even though the walk beside it would be shorter to his objective.)
After the war, George worked for some years at Meyer Seed Company, where my dad had gotten him a job in the lawnmower repair shop.
He learned all about small motors and became quite skilled at repairing them, and since he was always an entrepreneur, and never any good at taking orders, he opened his own lawn mower repair shop in Glen Burnie, Maryland. He did well at this and it would have been quite successful, no doubt, but he had not the personal discipline to spend his profits wisely, or to refrain from associations that damaged his home life. It became an impossible situation, and I put an ultimatum on the board. To this day he is, of course, resentful of that course of action. I am to blame for everything that goes wrong in his life. But the way I look at it, he could have kept his business without his family, had he wished, and a lot has gone right with his life since then. We have a comfortable home, a wonderful family, and enough money to live on (with not many frills, of course). There are a lot of people who can't say that. Had he continued with that business, none of those things would be his today, I'd bet on it.
After that period, he worked in vending service businesses. He worked himself up to position of Supervisor at Columbia Vending Company, and with his penchant for giving orders, that was just what he needed. He stayed there until his retirement at the age of 62, and still goes back for annual Christmas parties, and keeps in touch with his friends there.
Nowadays he helps me with my heavy gardening work, is always being inveigled into some kind of carpentering job around the house, takes care of the lawn and outside maintenance, and as little inside work as he can. He has acquired a working knowledge of carpentry from projects which I have initiated around the house. When we first came to Diller Avenue, there were six bedrooms in the house, one bathroom, a living room - quite spacious, just what I'd always wanted - a dining room, breakfast room, and small kitchen, and large back hall. Today there are four bedrooms, a large family room, the lovely living room has had five feet lopped off for a front hall, the dining room remains the same, a second bathroom has been added upstairs, and I have a new office/den in the basement. There are cupboards everywhere - there was practically none when we arrived - and all kinds of built in bookcases and cubbyholes that make my life much easier than in the beginning.
Each project entails about a month or two thinking about it beforehand, and getting the procedure organized in his mind. Then I act as "sidewalk supervisor" and "go-for", keeping his tools in reach, and furnishing food and drink, and tentative suggestions, which are not popular, of course. The final conclusion has to involve a lot of swearing - Churchill's "blood, sweat, and tears". Finally, when it is all finished, but a little strip of molding here, or a nail there, or just some essential finishing touch, the work goes on hold for a period of three years usually, before he will go back to it. As long as it is usable, he thinks of it as completed. I have come to anticipate the three year waiting period as an essential part of these operations. It has become amusing.
Besides these activities around home, he has joined a men's pleasure club nearby, and has a lot of friends there who share his enthusiasm for playing pool, drinking, and playing cards. He helps me by transporting me to my own club affairs, and there's the social occasions there. We have a good many friends in common, some not. All in all, we live an interesting life, and after all of the travail and worries and unhappinesses that have gone before, the present, for me, is happy. I hope that it is for him.
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