Eva Jean Laurence

​There's something special about finding a photo with writing on it. A simple inscription like "Eva Jean Lawrence, age 3" bridges decades, instantly transforming a nameless face from the past into a real person with a story waiting to be told.

​When we look closer at the records of Eva Jean Laurence, a beautiful story of twentieth century American movement emerges, stretching from the green hills of the Midwest to the sun drenched valley of Phoenix, Arizona.

​Eva Jean’s story began on April 15, 192, in the small community of Mifflin, Wisconsin. Born to Irvin Henry Laurence and Evelyn Jeanette (Gibbon) Laurence, she arrived just a year and a half before the historic stock market crash of 1929.

​The portrait capturing her at three years old places her right around 1931. Looking at her bundled in her knit sweater and cap, standing proudly next to a toy baby stroller, we get a glimpse into a Great Depression era childhood.

​Like many families during the late 1930s seeking new opportunities and horizons, the Laurences packed up their lives in Wisconsin and headed southwest.

​By the time the 1940 U.S. Census taker knocked on their door, the family had officially traded Midwestern winters for the desert heat of Phoenix, Arizona. Her father, Irvin, put his skills to work as a carpenter and building contractor, helping to construct the growing desert metropolis that Phoenix was becoming in the mid century.

​Phoenix wasn't just a temporary stop for Eva Jean, it became the backdrop for the rest of her life. She grew up in the Valley, attended local schools, and transitioned from a Midwestern transplant to a true Arizonan.

​Shortly after the end of World War II, a new chapter began. On April 12, 1947, nineteen year old Eva Jean married Arthur "Art" Vance in Phoenix. Together, Eva Jean and Art built a life, raised a family, and witnessed Phoenix grow from a modest desert city into a sprawling urban oasis.

​Eva Jean (Laurence) Vance passed away on December 29, 2008. She left behind a rich, eight decade legacy. 

​Every vintage photograph we hold, every autograph album page we transcribe, and every census record we uncover is a building block of a life lived. Eva Jean’s journey from a three year old girl with a toy stroller in Wisconsin to a wife and mother in Arizona reminds us why we look back: because every name written on the back of a photograph deserves to be remembered.


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