(This is part two. If you didn't read the prior post "Accidental History Detective", read it first.)

I kept coming back to that one sentence: "Ezra Baker Jr. died in an almshouse." It was written as fact, repeated across genealogy reports, and accepted without question. But it wasn't true.


We do this in our own lives, too. A single mistake or misinterpretation can get repeated until it becomes the story we tell about ourselves. "I’ve never been good at public speaking." "I’m not the kind of person who takes risks." "I always mess things up." Sound familiar?


Ezra’s story reminded me to challenge assumptions. The first recorded version isn’t always the right one. If I had accepted the almshouse story, I wouldn’t have found his connection to Lincoln, his political appointment, the crazy story of scandal and intrigue, or his last years practicing medicine in Philadelphia. The real story was more complicated—but also more interesting.


Maybe it’s time to look at your own narrative. What’s a belief you’ve carried about yourself that might not be the full truth?

You don’t have to keep retelling the same story if it no longer serves you. If you’re ready to explore new possibilities, coaching can help you rewrite your own history.

I never set out to uncover a mystery. I just saw a name—Ezra Baker Jr.—on a genealogy site and read the familiar refrain: Once a respected doctor and businessman, he died poor, alone, drunk and forgotten in a Philadelphia almshouse. It struck me as odd that he would end up in my adopted hometown, because I don’t have family ties to the Philadelphia area. Why would he end up here?

Curiosity got the better of me. I found where he was buried (Woodlands Cemetery in West Philadelphia) and went to see for myself. His headstone, though weathered, was marble. And that didn’t sit right with me. In 1870, poor men who died in almshouses weren’t buried under marble. That simple fact cracked open the whole story.

What followed is a continuing deep dive into forgotten records, political appointments, scandalous accusations, and unexpected connections. His final years—those that history seemed to misplace—weren’t quite what the old genealogy reports claimed.

I tracked him to a politically-appointed post in Washington Territory, in proximity to two of his sons. I tracked him to Washington DC, where he was trying to get a meeting with Lincoln after being pushed out of that job. 

It turns out that Ezra did know Abraham Lincoln. He did business with military generals. He had been part of a major Civil War-era smuggling trial. He had spent years crisscrossing the country. I kept chasing leads. I found him later in a Philadelphia directory at Broad and Passyunk, maybe still practicing medicine. His cause of death was listed as “softening of the brain,” an old term for what might have been a stroke or dementia.

The usual story about Ezra Baker Jr. turned out to be more rumor than reality. And that got me thinking—how often do we accept someone else’s version of the truth? How many times do we repeat a mistake until it becomes history?

Theme: Stay Curious.

Sometimes, a single detail—a marble headstone where there shouldn’t be one—can change everything. What might you discover if you followed a thread of curiosity in your own life?

Your story matters, and sometimes rewriting history—whether it’s your own or someone else’s—starts with asking the right questions. If you’re ready to explore your own narrative, coaching can help you uncover what’s been overlooked.