My search for my biological parents began around 1991 when an old friend from high school, Mary Jo Widdifield, who was also adopted, contacted me to tell me that the State of Hawaii was releasing the names of birth parents and the actual birth certificates to adopted children. There was a specific application process.
Mary Jo and I went to the Department of Vital Statistics and registered to have our actual birth certificates released to us. The entire process of receiving my birth certificate actually took over two years. First, the State had to conduct a search to see if either of the biological parents were alive, and if so, give them a chance to object to the release of information to the adoptee. They appointed a professional searcher to conduct the search.
Her report was sent to me nearly two years after my initial application. In her report, she stated that my mother was a woman named Beatrice Anderson, and she was born in Wildrose, North Dakota, in 1921. She indicated in the report that no other information was available, and she was not able to find or contact Beatrice Anderson. Her report included copies of my adoption papers and my actual birth certificate. The birth certificate showed Beatrice Anderson as my mother, and my father was listed as “Unknown.”
Shortly thereafter, I went to my mother, Ina Mae Lunt, who was still living at the time, and told her of my interest in finding my biological parents. She was very encouraging. She said “I encourage you to do whatever you can to find them. All I know is that your mother was a teacher at Roosevelt High School.” I immediately went to Roosevelt High School in Honolulu, and asked the librarian for the yearbooks from the period of my birth, 1944-46. I searched the yearbooks, and in them found a teacher by the name of Blanche Anderson.
All of my life I have known that a distant relative of my parents, Mr. Jay Quealy, who was a Mormon Bishop in the 1940s in Honolulu, had helped to arrange my adoption. Bishop Quealy had passed away, but his wife, Virginia still lived in Salt Lake City, and Virginia had offered to help me in my search. Virginia and a friend in Salt Lake City, who did informal searches, attempted find Blanche Anderson. They located Blanche in a retirement home in the mainland. I sent Blanche a carefully worded letter asking her basically if she could be my biological mother. She sent me back a very carefully worded reply that although she would have been very proud to have been my mother, she was not.
I then asked Virginia Quealy's friend to search diligently to try and locate some more information on Beatrice Anderson. She was unable to find her. A while later, I attended a support group for adopted children at the University of Hawaii. In that support group, I was encouraged to enlist the help of a professional searching organization to locate Beatrice.
I did so using an organization based on the mainland called “Kinsolving.” Kinsolving is a well-known organization with a good reputation that charges a rather large set fee, but only if their search is successful. If they fail in their search, there is no charge. As I recall the fee was approximately $5,000.00 for the release of a name in case a parent was found. I sent Kinsolving the report from the State Searcher, which was all the information I had at the time. And after approximately a year and a half of attempts, my searcher at Kinsolving reported that she was unable to find Beatrice Anderson or to even confirm that she existed and that the name was not a fictitious one. This ended my search for several years.
My profession is Real Estate Brokerage, and several years ago, I was showing a house to a friend who is an immigration attorney here on Tantalus in Honolulu. Her name is Robin Wurtzel. I was casually describing my past and attempt to find Beatrice Anderson while I was showing her a house one afternoon. About two weeks later I saw Robin again while showing her another house. As we were leaving the house, she handed me a white envelope and she said “This is for you.” I was floored when I found in it the birth certificate for my mother, Beatrice Anderson, as well as some information garnered from the LDS (Mormon) Genealogical Website. I asked Robin how she had found Beatrice Anderson and obtained her birth certificate, and she said it had been amazingly simple. I had given her Beatrice's supposed birthplace, Wildrose, North Dakota, and she contacted the county courthouse in North Dakota where Wildrose is located. She had given the approximate birth date for my mother to the clerk, and within several weeks had a certified copy of the birth certificate. I now knew for the first time that the name Beatrice Anderson was not an alias, and that she was, in fact, a real person after all. Kinsolving's failure had given me doubts.
Unfortunately, also in the packet of information she had given me, which was passed to me without comment, was a printout from the LDS web site that showed that Beatrice had died in 1993. As it turns out, the date that Beatrice had died had been approximately 3 months prior to the issuance of the State Searchers Report that contained her name. In other words, I received her name for the first time approximately 3 months after she had passed away. Also in the LDS web site information was the name of the person who had submitted the information to the website, his name was Jim Englehorn, and he lives in Denver, Colorado. Englehorn was my grandmother's maiden name on my mother's side. It also showed the name of my grandfather, Albert E. Anderson, their birth dates and data on their one other child. They had one other daughter, who had since then died.
After spending several days of debating whether I should do so, I called Jim in Colorado. Throughout this whole process, I have had some doubt about contacts, since I knew I was dealing with an unwed mother, and I always hesitated to call people within her family because of this fact. On the other hand, I feel that family is very important, and hoped that Beatrice's other children would welcome me and be happy that I found them. As it has turned out, this has been the case. I am very fortunate to have (at least) three half siblings who are very happy that we have found each other.
At any rate, I overcame this hesitation and called Jim Englehorn, whom I have met since. He was very gracious with me that first day on the phone. He pulled out his records and said “Yes, Beatrice Anderson, I knew her well, she was married to Bob Salisbury in 1946 and had three children, Kenneth, Betty and Doug. He then proceeded to give the dates the three children were born, the dates that they were married, and the places that he knew where they had last lived. He had all this information at his fingertips. We talked quite for a while, and at the end of the conversation he said “You know, I remember something about an illegitimate child being born in Hawaii.” I replied that he was speaking to him! Our conversation ended, and he invited me to visit him and keep in contact. About 15 minutes later, my phone rang again, and it was Jim Englehorn. He stated that he had been mistaken in his recollection of an illegitimate child in Honolulu. The story he recalled involved Beatrice's older sister, Eileen, who had a child out of wedlock in the 1930s about 12-13 years before I was born. His name was Jim Anderson. At the time, in the 1930s, it was felt that the best course of action by the mother and her parents, Albert and Caroline Anderson, was to adopt Jim Anderson as if he was an orphan, and raise him as if he were his mother's little brother. So Jim Anderson was adopted by his grandparents and was raised by his grandparents thinking that his mother was his big sister. When he was in his 20s, he was told the truth, that he had not been an orphan adopted by his grandparents, but was the son of the woman he believed was his older sister. In Beatrice's obituary he is listed as a brother, not a nephew. Jim Anderson is still alive today, but his family has rarely heard from him and I have not yet spoken to him. This is just another interesting twist to the whole story.
Jim's story made me grateful for two things. First, my parents always told me that I was adopted, and were open and honest about this. Secondly, I now know more of the whole story—that Beatrice knew and participated in my adoption by the wonderful parents that raised me. This comes later in the story, however.
Jim also related that Beatrice had been a teacher, but not at Roosevelt High School. She had taught biology at Mid Pacific Institute, a private preparatory school in Manoa Valley here on Oahu. I immediately called Mid Pac, as we call it, and arranged to meet an alumni representative to look at the year books from the mid-1940's.
I went expectantly to Mid Pac one morning, and the very helpful lady and I started going through the yearbooks from 1943 to 1947, looking at the photos of the teaching staff. We had been looking for quite a while, and were nearly ready to give up, when she said “Here she is!” There, in the 1945 year book were two pictures of my mother. This was the first time I had ever seen her face. I was 56 years old. She then took me back to another building, and found Beatrice's complete personnel file. In it was her application for employment, with letters of recommendation from her College Professors, and her photo taken when she was hired. She was 24 years old.
At the end of the file was a resignation letter, dated November, 1945, in which she reluctantly resigned her position at Mid Pac because of a “physical condition.” I have been called many things, but never a “physical condition.” Actually, it is quite sad that she had to give up the position she had worked so hard to get because of her pregnancy. It made me realize again what great sacrifices she made to give me life, and to make, as I later found out, the arrangements to ensure that I was raised in the fine home and by the loving and devoted parents who cared for me all of their lives.
I now was floored with the information that I was not an only child after all! I in fact have two (half) brothers and a sister. I dislike the term “half sister” or “half brother.” I proceeded to try and locate my siblings. One day, I went to the Google.com website and searched for my sister's name, Bette Slowinsky. Since this was somewhat an unusual name, I typed this into the search engine and immediately was taken to a series of 6 -7 matches. The 4th or 5th match showed an article in a school journal in Michigan about a Bette Slowinsky who is a special education teacher in a suburb of Detroit, Michigan. This all fit the pattern, since my mother was also a teacher, and since Bette's is an unusual name and spelling. I knew this article was about my sister. I then went to the web site of the school mentioned in the article and found their phone number and an address for the school. Again, I debated with myself for several weeks as to whether and how I should contact Bette.
One day as I was jogging on Tantalus, as I do every morning, and I met a neighbor, Marilyn Carlsmith. Marilyn is a semi-retired family court judge in Honolulu, and comes from a very well known local “kama'aina” family with many attorneys and judges in it. Marilyn is a sweet, caring person and when I shared with her some of my story, she immediately volunteered to call Bette for me.
Our next challenge was to find Bette's phone number. I knew her husband's name was Gary and she lived in the Detroit area. I finally came up with the number and gave it to Marilyn, but it had a caller protection device that limited the incoming calls to people with pre-registered numbers. All Marilyn could do was to leave a message. She left several short messages, first to “call Marilyn Carlsmith in Honolulu,” then to call “Judge Marilyn Carlsmith in Honolulu,” but received no return calls for several weeks. Even though I had Bette's work number, I hesitated to use it, because I did not want such an unexpected call coming to her at work. Reluctantly, after several weeks of waiting for a response, I gave Marilyn Bette's work number and asked her to call Bette at work. Marilyn called me back several days later and said she had contacted Bette that she was Beatrice's daughter, therefore my sister, but knew nothing of me. She was surprised, but thrilled to hear that she had an older brother, and wanted very much to speak with me. I then called Bette and had one of the most memorable conversations in my life. Fortunately for both of us, my Summer 2003 musical tour with Taj Mahal and the Hula Blues Band took me to my first concert at the House of Blues in Chicago. My brother, Doug, whom I talked to just after Bette, lives 20 minutes from the House of Blues. Bette lives just outside of Detroit, about a 3 hour drive from Chicago. After several conversations during the spring of 2003, Bette decided to put her family in the van and bring them all to hear our concert in Chicago. I went to Chicago early to spend several days with my newly found brother and sister before our tour began. I first met my brother Doug in the Chicago airport, which started a tremendous 3-day visit with him, Bette, and their children. This visit has now blossomed to a close friendship with my two siblings in the U.S. I have not yet met my other brother Kenneth, who lives in England, but I have spoken to and corresponded with him. He has promised to visit Hawaii as soon as he returns to the U.S. later this year.
During my initial conversations with my siblings, the subject of finding my father naturally came up. Bette said she would do everything she could to help, as did Doug and Ken. Bette's father, Bob Salisbury, had recently had open-heart surgery, and had never really recovered. He is in a retirement home. I have insisted that he not be told of me, fearing that it may compromise his memories of my mother, his marriage, or both. On the other hand, since he married my mother 5 months after my birth, I feel he probably knew of me, and who my father was. I did not want to take the chance of asking him, and to this day, Bob knows nothing of my contacts with his children. Bette, of course, had no idea of who my father was. She did have one scrapbook of her mother's years in Hawaii. In the scrapbook was a picture of her with a young man in a sailor's uniform. There was no caption on the picture. Later on in the book there was an old nametag from a party that said “Ferdinand T. Johnson.” The kids had often heard his name as they were growing up, and understood he was their mother's boyfriend in Hawaii. He was known to them as “Johnny.” Although they had never met Johnny, they had often heard him referred to in their house. Every time their parent's had a strong discussion or disagreement, Beatrice would end it with “I should have married Johnny!” This had happened more than once, so they were very familiar with his name.
We naturally assumed the man in sailor's outfit in the picture was Johnny. My brother in England, Kenneth, is probably the most computer literate of all of us, and he immediately located a phone number for a Ferdinand T. Johnson in Sandy, Utah. I looked at the picture in the yearbook and although the resemblance wasn't very obvious, felt that this man could have conceivably been my father, and I also assumed the picture was of Johnny. Again, after much hesitation, I called Johnny. He is an 84 year old very active and sharp retired historian for the state of Utah. His wife of many years had died several years before. We had a long introductory conversation. I carefully guided the conversation to the point where he understood that I was trying to ask him if he could be my father, and he asked me when I was born. I told him I was born March 23rd, 1946 which would have made my conception somewhere around July, 1945. Johnny immediately said “No, I couldn't be your father, I was transferred out of Hawaii on February 28, 1945. I even have a copy of my transfer papers!”
As we ended the conversation, which was long and very pleasant, I said, “Let's keep in contact, Johnny. Again, my name is Fred Lunt...” and as I started to tell him my address, he stopped me and said “Wait a minute, Fred Lunt was one of the most important people in my life!” Then he related how my father, Bishop Fred Lunt, had befriended him, as a young naval officer in Hawaii during the war. Johnny worked in Naval Intelligence, and was a science teacher at Mid Pacific Institute, where he worked with Beatrice, both teaching biology. Johnny had been raised as a Mormon, but had never had the chance be active in the church. He had never been asked to do anything for the church. My father gave him responsibilities and positions in the church. Johnny knew my adoptive father and mother very well, were extremely close, and in fact, while he and Beatrice were dating, Johnny took her to church every Sunday where my father presided as bishop. In addition, he and Beatrice visited my parent's home on several occasions for evening “firesides.” These were informal gatherings held during the war for men and women who were away from home, and were held in prominent LDS homes, especially in homes of the Bishop of the Ward. So in fact, Beatrice had met my parents and been in their home! Johnny felt very indebted to my father and after my call became very committed to helping me find my biological father! We have become good friends since, and we met this summer in Salt Lake City and spent a good deal of time together. Johnny is a good person and, as a historian, is somewhat of an amateur detective. In addition to his very sharp memory, Johnny has kept everything, including all his letters to and from my mother. He has clippings, articles and all sorts of written information from the war years here in Hawaii. Johnny has shared my mother's letters with me, which I now have and treasure. He assured me that my mother was a very conservative person and I think the thought that she had had an affair with someone else after they had broken up did and still does bother Johnny until this day.
An interesting “off the wall” coincidence occurred in the middle of this ongoing search for my father. My wife, Alice, and I were having dinner at a private club in Waikiki, the Outrigger Canoe Club. It was the club “luau.” There were only two couples sitting alone at tables in the entire club, ourselves and a classmate of mine from high school, Arnold Lum and his wife. I just happened to visit Arnold's table to say hello. A few minutes later, Arnold and his wife came to our table, and asked if they could join us for dinner. During the ensuing conversation, I happened to mention that I had just made contact with my half sister and brothers. Arnold replied, “Oh, I know, your mother was a teacher, and your father was a serviceman.” I was shocked. I know Arnold fairly well, and listed and sold his house several years ago. I have known him since high school. He has never mentioned this subject to me. When I asked how he knew this, he shared that his mother was a teacher on Maui (where I was born) during the war and knew Beatrice Anderson well when she went there to have me. “Why didn't you ever mention this before?” I asked. “You never asked” replied Arnold. It seemed quite strange to me that I happened to join him for dinner that night, and happened to bring up the subject of my sister. I had not spoken to Arnold in several years!
In one of my mother's letters, she briefly mentioned that she was “going bowling that night with Lyle.” We had no idea who Lyle was, but it was another clue to the circle of friends that associated during that period of time. Johnny had always assumed that all of Beatrice's friends were natives of her home county, Burke, and specifically Powers Lake, North Dakota. Johnny took the name Lyle, went to a library in Salt Lake City and retrieved the county history of Burke County in which Lake Powers is located. This was a history that was written during the bicentennial in 1976. In that County history, using the approximate ages of himself and Beatrice, he located a Lyle Anderson (no relation to Beatrice Anderson). Just by a leap of faith, or coincidence, Johnny felt sure this was the Lyle mentioned in the letter. He had no particular reason to feel this way, and there was no mention of military service by Lyle. He just strongly believed this was the Lyle mentioned in Beatrice's letter, and was perhaps my father. The history did mention that Lyle Anderson had been living in Florida. He retrieved the numbers of four Lyle G. Anderson's in Florida and contacted one of them. The first one he contacted turned out to be the Lyle Anderson who knew my mother during the war. He was in fact the man in the unlabeled picture in my mother's scrapbook! This was the picture that Bette and her family assumed was “Johnny.” Lyle is not in perfect health but is alive and living with his wife. Johnny talked to him at length and eventually the subject of their relationship between himself and Beatrice came up, and the question of whether he was possibly my father. Lyle, whom I have since talked with, informed him that no, he had a very brief and casual relationship with Beatrice, and could not be my father. However, he offered to do anything he could to help.
Lyle mentioned that he was taken to Beatrice's home at Mid Pacific Institute, by an acquaintance from Powers Lake, an officer by the name of Willard Monnes. This was the only way Lyle knew Beatrice was even in Hawaii. Willard arranged for Lyle and Beatrice to have a visit and drove him straight up to Beatrice's house in his jeep. Johnny was floored when this name came up, because he knew and respected Willard Monnes. He also saw a strong physical resemblance between Willard and me. He knew Willard as a 12 year old child in Powers Lake Scouting where Willard had been a Senior Eagle Scout and Johnny a Boy Scout. He also met Willard during the war when he organized a basketball team at Pearl Harbor. Willard was head of athletics at Hickam Air Force Base, adjacent to Pearl Harbor. Johnny knew Willard well. Recalling Willard's appearance and my appearance Johnny was 99% convinced that Willard Monnes was my father. He felt that Beatrice would have had a romance with someone she knew from her hometown of Powers Lake, North Dakota. In Johnny's mind, it all fit, and when Willard Monnes' name came up, all the pieces in the puzzle dropped together.
To this day Johnny is floored by this particular turn of events. First that he found “Lyle” mentioned in the letter only by first name, secondly that after finding that Lyle was not my father, that Lyle would provide the key, the name of Willard Monnes, who Johnny knew, and who Johnny is convinced is my father. Johnny has said that at this point, he was out of ideas, had no direction in which to search, and if Lyle Anderson had not happened to mention this name, Johnny felt the search would have ended without success. Johnny, not wanting to be considered a “religious fanatic,” feels strongly a guiding hand in this from somewhere else. The coincidences are just too many and too strange.
I then had a great desire to see a picture of Willard Monnes. I contacted the National Bureau of Records who keeps record of those in the military service. After a long agonizing process of applications and a 3-month wait, I was eventually told that all Willard Monnes' files were destroyed in a St. Louis fire in the 1970s. I realized that Willard Monnes had died several years before, and I retrieved his obituary from a website called Obituaries.com. In Obituaries.com it listed that Willard had one son, Vaughan who lived in Monterey, California. It also listed his school; Linfield College in North Dakota. Johnny had told me that he had attended Minot High School also in North Dakota. I contacted the libraries at both these schools. and the librarians there were tremendously helpful, sending me many pictures of Willlard Monnes as a high school and college student.
After seeing the pictures of Willard Monnes and Beatrice Anderson, I too became convinced that he is my birthfather.
I then asked Marylyn Carlsmith to contact Vaughan Monnes in California, and this brings me to the present.
Fred Lunt
July, 2004
