The Tintype in the Box: Solving a 150-Year-Old Family Mystery
This young woman stared at me from across 150 years. Finally, I can say her name: Margaret Mary McKenny
How a nameless Victorian photograph finally revealed its secret
You know that box. The one in your closet, your basement, your parents' attic. Inside are old photographs—some labeled, most not. Faces stare back at you across decades, across centuries. Beautiful, dignified faces. Your ancestors.
But who are they?
For years, I've been staring at one particular photograph. A young woman, maybe nineteen or twenty, with delicate features and intelligent eyes. She wears a dark Victorian dress and a pendant necklace. The photograph itself is a tintype—that ghostly image on metal that was popular in the 1860s and 1870s.
The back bears the imprint: "NICHOLS, Photographer, 697 BROADWAY, New York."
She's clearly someone's treasure. The photo has been carefully preserved for over 150 years, passed down through multiple generations. Someone loved her enough to keep this image safe through wars, moves, deaths, and all the chaos of family life.
But no one remembers her name.
The Curse of Early Death
In my family, women died young. Terrifyingly young. Irish immigrant women in Brooklyn, dying of tuberculosis, dying in childbirth, dying and leaving small children behind. Each death severed another thread of family memory. Mothers who should have told daughters about their grandmothers never got the chance. Grandmothers who should have passed down family stories were buried before their grandchildren could remember them.
Knowledge vanished with each generation.
But photographs survived.
Following the Clues
I'm not a professional genealogist, but I've learned that identifying old photographs is like being a detective. You look for clues—in the photograph itself, in what people are wearing, in where it was taken, and in your family records. When enough clues point in the same direction, you have your answer.
Clue #1: The Tintype Itself
First, I needed to understand what I was looking at. This wasn't just "an old photo"—it was a specific type called a tintype (though it's actually on iron, not tin).
Tintypes were invented in 1856 and became wildly popular in the 1860s and 1870s. They were cheaper and more durable than earlier daguerreotypes, which made them accessible to working-class families. By the 1880s, they were being replaced by card photographs.
Date range from technology alone: 1865-1875
Clue #2: The Broadway Studio
That photographer's imprint told me something important. In the 1860s and 1870s, Broadway in Manhattan was THE place for photography studios. This wasn't a street corner tintype photographer—this was a formal, professional portrait at a prestigious location.
For a working-class Brooklyn family, traveling to a Broadway studio was expensive and special. This portrait marked an important occasion.
Question: What occasion brings a 19-year-old working-class woman to a fancy Manhattan studio?
Most likely answers:
Engagement
Wedding
Important birthday
Family milestone
The photographer's imprint provided crucial clues about when and where this portrait was taken
Clue #3: What She's Wearing
Fashion is one of the most reliable dating tools for old photographs. Every decade has distinct styles, and if you know what to look for, clothing can narrow down your date to within a few years.
Her hairstyle: Center part, smoothly pulled back, no bangs. Classic 1865-1875 style.
Her dress: High neckline, fitted bodice, dark fabric. Formal style of the late 1860s-early 1870s.
Her jewelry: Substantial pendant necklace, suggesting some prosperity or at least aspiration.
Fashion dating: 1868-1872
← OUR PHOTOGRAPH DATES HERE
Technology + Fashion = 1868-1872
Understanding when tintypes were popular helps narrow the date range
Clue #4: How Old Is She?
Looking at her face—the smoothness of her skin, the brightness in her eyes, the softness of her features—she appears to be in her late teens or very early twenties. Let's say 18-22.
If the photo was taken around 1870, she was born around 1848-1852.
Clue #5: The Family Tree
Now comes the hard part—matching this profile to real people in my family tree.
I needed:
A woman born around 1850
Connected to Brooklyn
Irish immigrant family
Someone whose photograph would have been preserved by my family
And I found her.
Meet Margaret Mary McKenny
Born: 1851, Brooklyn, New York
Parents: George McKenna (Irish immigrant) and Ann Lynch MacKinney
Married: John Kenny (a mat maker who became a hatter)
Children: Elizabeth "Lillian" (born 1879), Mary Agnes (born 1883), baby Margaret (born and died 1884)
Died: May 24, 1884, age 33, of tuberculosis
The MacKinney-Kenny family: four generations marked by early death and one woman's devotion
Margaret married John Kenny in the early-to-mid 1870s. He worked in Ward 7 Brooklyn as a mat maker, eventually becoming a skilled hatter. They were a young couple starting out—working class but upwardly mobile, building a life together.
She had two daughters. Then, in 1884, she became pregnant again. Something went terribly wrong. Margaret died. The baby, also named Margaret, died with her. Both were buried together at Holy Cross Cemetery in Brooklyn.
Elizabeth was 5 years old. Mary Agnes was 1.
The Sister Who Saved Them
This is where the story gets even more profound.
Margaret had a younger sister: Mary F. MacKinney, born around 1860. The family called her "Aunt Maime."
When Margaret died in 1884, Maime helped John with the two orphaned girls. Four years later, in 1888, John Kenny also died. Elizabeth was 9. Mary Agnes was 5.
Aunt Maime took them both in.
She never married. She worked as a domestic servant, scraping together enough to raise her sister's children. For 32 years, she was their mother. When Mary Agnes died young in 1924 (the curse of early death striking again), leaving her own orphaned children, it was Aunt Maime—now in her sixties—who stepped in once more.
Maime died in 1935, having spent her entire adult life raising the children and grandchildren her sister Margaret never got to know.
Mary F. 'Aunt Maime' MacKinney (circa 1920s) - Margaret's younger sister, who preserved this photograph and raised Margaret's orphaned daughters for 32 years.
The Comparison
I have two photographs of Aunt Maime, taken when she was in her sixties—stern, bespectacled, dignified. Looking at them next to the young woman in the tintype, I can see it.
The same oval face shape. The same delicate bone structure. The same direct, intelligent gaze. The same strength.
Sisters, photographed fifty years apart—one at the beginning of her tragic story, one at the end of her heroic one.
Comparing the sisters across 50 years: Margaret at 19 (left) and Maime at ~65 (right)
Comparing the sisters across 50 years: Margaret at 19 (left) and Maime at ~65 (right)
Why I'm Convinced
Let me count the ways:
The technology: Tintype, 1865-1875 ✓
The fashion: Clothing and hair, 1868-1872 ✓
The location: Brooklyn family, Broadway studio ✓
The age: Appears 18-22 in photo ✓
The timing: Born 1851, photo ~1870 = age 19 ✓
The geography: Ward 7 Brooklyn connection ✓
The occasion: Young woman, formal portrait = likely engagement ✓
The preservation: Saved by sister Maime, passed to descendants ✓
The resemblance: Family features match sister's later photos ✓
Likely engagement or coming-of-age portrait
Married John Kenny • Died 1884, age 33
Photograph preserved by her devoted sister, Aunt Maime
Nine independent lines of evidence all point to the same conclusion
Could I be wrong? Sure. There's no label on the back saying "Margaret Mary McKenny, age 19, 1870."
But when this many independent clues all point to the same person, you have your answer.
This is Margaret.
What It Means
Imagine being nineteen years old. You're engaged to marry John Kenny, a hardworking mat maker with ambitions to become a hatter. You travel from Brooklyn to a fancy photography studio on Broadway in Manhattan. You wear your best dress and your good necklace. You sit very still while the photographer captures your image on a thin iron plate coated with chemicals.
You're full of hope. Your whole life is ahead of you.
You don't know that in fourteen years, you'll be dead. You don't know that your baby daughter will die with you. You don't know that your sister will spend the rest of her life raising your children.
You just know that this moment matters. This photograph will be a gift—for your future husband, for your parents, for your family. This is who you are. This is who you want them to remember.
And they did.
They remembered so well that 150 years later, your great-great-great-grandchildren are still looking at your face, still trying to say your name.
Finding Your Own Faces
If you have a box of old photographs with no names, you can do this too. Here's what worked for me:
Start with the photo itself:
What type is it? (Tintype, cabinet card, etc.)
When was that type popular?
Is there a photographer's mark? Where was the studio?
Look at fashion:
Hair, clothing, jewelry—they all change with each decade
There are online resources and books that can help you date fashion
Estimate age:
How old does the person appear?
Add that to the photo date to calculate birth year
Check your family tree:
Who matches the profile?
Who lived in the right place at the right time?
Who would have had the means/occasion for this type of photo?
Look for supporting evidence:
Do you have other photos of possible relatives to compare?
Do the geographic connections make sense?
Does the occasion/context fit the person's life story?
Sometimes you'll get to 95% certainty, like I have with Margaret. Sometimes you'll only get to 60%. That's okay. Document what you know and what you suspect. Future discoveries might fill in the gaps.
Why This Matters
Margaret Mary McKenny died at 33, leaving almost nothing behind. No diaries. No letters that survived. Just a few entries in official records: birth, marriage, death.
But this photograph survived.
It survived because her sister Maime loved her enough to keep it. It survived because Maime passed it to Margaret's daughters. It survived because each generation understood, somehow, that this mattered—even when they no longer remembered the name.
And now, 150 years later, we can look at Margaret's face and see her as she was: young, dignified, full of promise. We can honor her short life. We can remember that she existed, that she mattered, that people loved her.
That's the power of these old photographs in our boxes.
Every face is someone's mother, someone's daughter, someone's beloved. Every carefully posed portrait represents a moment of hope and pride. Every preserved image is an act of love across time.
So look in your box. Find those nameless faces. Start asking questions. Follow the clues.
You might be surprised what you discover.
Do you have unidentified photographs in your family collection? What questions do they raise for you?
Margaret Mary McKenny and Mary F. 'Aunt Maime' MacKinney - two sisters whose love transcended death
Related Content:
Read "Four Words That Solved a Seven-Year Mystery" – Discover how "Eliza, widow of Richard" unlocked an impossible genealogical puzzle and created the breakthrough for this Brooklyn family story
Read “Woman in the Portrait: Aunt Maime’s Story” - For 90 years, her portrait was preserved…
Read “Four Generations in Hats: A Brooklyn Story of Resilience” - When one craftsman’s legacy becomes four generations of resilience—the stories objects can tell
Read “When One Breakthrough Unlocks Everything”-A Storyline Genealogy Case Study in Cascade Research
Explore the Brooklyn Matmaker Case Study – View the complete methodology and research framework
Explore The Brooklyn Mat Maker: Extended Edition - Complete methodology documentation
Your Turn
Do you have a box of nameless faces? I'd love to hear about your own family photo mysteries.
I want to hear from you:
What's the oldest photograph in your collection?
Do you have any unidentified portraits you're trying to place?
Have you ever identified a mystery photo? How did you do it?
Connect with me on Facebook or via my contact form and share your mystery photos. Sometimes fresh eyes can spot the clues we've been missing. Let's help each other bring our ancestors' faces back to life.
If this post helped you, please share it with someone who has their own box of old photographs. Margaret and Maime's story deserves to be remembered—and maybe it will inspire someone else to finally identify that mystery face they've been wondering about for years.
Every face deserves a name. Every story deserves to be told.
