Our techno society has become so accustomed to Google as a search tool that the name itself has been pressed into service as a verb. Need to know about weeping willows, or tax code, or indigenous marsupials? Google it! Sometimes I forget what life was like before the Internet and algorithmic search engines. So, there's a strange sense of enjoyment--almost adventure--in researching something the old-fashioned way.
Thursday, after an interpreting job downtown, I strolled over to the County Building and paid a visit to the Cook Count Recorder of Deeds to try to figure out who owns the parcel of vacant land I'm eyeing for our garden. Naturally, I was sent to the basement, down an austere and sterile corridor, to plight my case in the Tract Room. After giving the PIN (Property Identification Number) of the land to the clerk, she checked her computer and confirmed that there was no information on file, so the last transaction was at least 25 years ago, prior to 1985. She pulled out a huge paper-and-ink reference tome, which gave her the numbered location of a plat book.
Cross-referencing that, she was momentarily confused until I explained that it seemed that the land was divided into two properties a few years ago. That matter cleared up, she handed me nothing more than a scrap of paper with a "Document Number" on it. I was then directed down another subterranean corridor to the Microfiche Vault.
The gatekeeper of this tiny chamber (little more than a desk, a chair, and a counter for filling out forms), took the document number and disappeared through a door behind him, returning a few moments later with a single 9" x 9" sheet of microfiche. He then bade me go across the hall into the Microfiche Reading Library. Using a reading terminal (the operation of which took me back to my college days!), I saw that the film contained deed and transfers from a variety of addresses all across the county. Finally locating the property in question, I find that the only deed transaction, a sale of the property, happened in March of 1963! Since I know the demolished farmhouse was on the developed side of the property, that means the land has sat fallow for 47 years!
Sadly, the deed transfer contained very little information: the names of Julius and Mary C------, S------- Realty, and a legal description of the land. Returning the microfiche to the Vault and heading back to the Tract Room, I asked the clerk if she knew any way to contact them. "Not if they're not in my computer," she replied.
NOW I turned to Google. I'm pretty good at searching, and soon I turned up the date of death for Julius (2005) and Mary (2004). I also found some property owned by them in Palatine and Schaumburg, tranferred to a Victor C------, who also went by the anglicized name of Victor S--------...the same name as the realty company on the original deed! Victor is apparently 53 years old, and married a woman named Barbara Sc-----, who seem to have sold their Illinois properties and seem to be living in E-------, Wisconsin, on a fairly nice piece of lakefront property. I have called the phone number, heard Barb S-----'s voice (and heard that they are general contractors, which explains the several properties in Wisconsin sold to banks: developed houses, no doubt). However, I haven't left a message because I don't think I could explain the situation very well through a message. Nor have I attempted to Facebook friend Barbara, though I could try.
(Editor's note: Are you scared by Google yet? You should be. I'm leaving out things like their names and exact location...and how much their property is worth and Julius's and Mary's Social Security Numbers....)
I did also knock on the door of the people who bought the property just adjacent--sometimes the most direct method is the best! They weren't home, however, and I will try again tomorrow. I'll also gives the S----'s another call tomorrow, too. I will get to the bottom of this and get a yes/no on the garden idea.
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