Witches, Madames, and Turncoats

As I mentioned in part 1 of this story, I began armed with this bit of information from my grandmother, They were the "Howards of Virginia, wealthy and important."  Visions of southern plantations waft through my brain.  When I finally got an official copy of James E. Howard's death certificate which gave his birthplace as West Virginia, I was a lot less impressed. True, that my grandmother didn't really lie, after all, when he was born in 1859 there was no West Virginia it was just Virginia.  However, I now had to put away visions of southern gentility and replace it with a more realistic vision of the hard-scrabble, oft-feuding, mountain-folk.

To find out even more I decided that a trip to Marshall County, West Virginia was in order.  So I left my husband with the family car and the kids and took his pickup off for a weekend in West Virginia.  The trip to Marshall County was a story in itself and really why we should all get out there at times to dig for our roots rather than just sitting and researching at our computers.

Sure at the courthouse I found wills, records, etc...  but I found so much more...politics... geography... and beauty.

First politics: A trip to the local historical society gleaned the names of a few John Howards (my 4th great grandfather) buried in the area.  I asked one of the volunteers for directions to the Howard Cemetery in Cameron. I got a chuckle and a follow up question. "Which Howard Cemetery, the Howard Republican Cemetery or the Howard Democratic Cemetery?"  At this point I was flabberghasted, there are TWO different cemeteries for the same HOWARD family, separated in distance by about a half mile apart but apparently worlds apart politically. During the drive I couldn't help but wonder  what a post-Civil War family must have been like; to have such deep-seated political wounds as to not want to be buried in the same cemetery. Quite the family feud indeed! 

Geography: Now let me set a scene for you,  I grew up in the Allegheny Mountains of Pennsylvania, and WV has the exact same mountain range,  it's all Appalachia. But I'd never been to West Virginia before. The first observation I made was that here in PA, all the roads are at the base of the mountains. OK, new highways may be at the top, but old roads that lead to real villages tend to follow the creeks and rivers, with tiny dirt roads leading up into the mountains. In short, you get used to driving along in PA and looking up at the mountains. After driving in WV for a while I began to notice that I was driving on roads that were at the top of mountains and I was constantly looking down and the little dirt roads led down into the hollows.  That alone set me up for a surreal experience.
 
I arrived at the Democratic Cemetery first at the top of a hill. There were some folks who I thought were probably cousins, but no stones that seemed to be any direct relations, so I moved on to the Republican Cemetery down the dirt road that lead to the ravine.  I got to the bottom and what was there, well... pretty much a swamp.  With a cemetery on one of it's banks.  I put the pickup into park at the end of the dirt road, and got out.  Squish!  My foot was now covered in mud. Furthermore I noticed that the tires seemed to be pretty mired in mud as well.  Next something LARGE that I glimpsed out of the corner of my eye, slipped into the pond that formed the center of this seeming swamp. I shuddered, I didn't want to know!  After not finding my 4th-great grandfather's grave in this cemetery either,  I climbed back into the pickup and at first went nowhere, just spun in the mud.  There was no cell phone service, my truck was stuck in the middle of a swamp and I remember thinking that I would die right there and I'd have to be buried with the "poor relations"  after all if they'd been better off surely they could have been buried up on the hill!  Anyway, 4-wheel drive and some luck did get me back out.

Absolute beauty: After my mud experience I still tried many more cemeteries. Though I never did find my 4th great-grandfather HOWARD, I did find the tombstone for my 4th-great grandfather James LAUGHLIN (1796-1873) in Rock Lick, WV. At the time, I couldn't conclusively prove that he was my grandfather, frankly I still can't but as I stood over his tombstone, the sun broke through the clouds and the most beautiful rainbow appeared.  That rainbow continued to follow me for the rest of the day and back to the hotel. Coincidence, sure.  But I like to think that it was great-grandpa smiling at someone who'd found him -- someone who's blood, and someone who cares. :-) 

Gear up for a long post - but I think this story is worth it. My grandfather, father, and brother all had/have the middle name HOWARD, after my great-grandmother Malvern Blanche Howard. When I decided to get started on the HOWARD line, my great-grandmother and my grandfather were already gone. My grandmother filled me in on what she knew of her husband's HOWARD ancestry.  I got the following information:

• " The 'Howards of Virginia' were a very wealthy and important family."
•  "Pop's grand-daddy James Enos Howard was a doctor who used to light his pipes with $100 bills."
• "James Enos Howard wrote a book once,  I think there might be a copy of it somewhere in the house."
• "Malvern Howard was disowned when she married Ray Welsh, a conductor on the B&O railroad."
• "James E. Howard offered to pay for his grandson's (my grandfathers) college tuition if he would only drop the last name WELSH and use only Ray Howard. My grandfather refused and worked in a steel mill his whole life."

OK, that and a few dates/places seemed like a lot of good information with which to get started.  The book "In the Beginning" by James Enos Howard [1916, Roxburgh Press, Boston, Mass. Library Of Congress # BS1235.H68} about the biblical book of Genesis was indeed written by my GG-Grandfather.  Since the family had only the one copy,  I have a photocopy of the book.

Next, my mother decided that since James Howard was the doctor in Mill Run, PA,  we should take a trip over to find his grave.  I said that we had no idea what cemetery he was buried in, and her reply was that there's probably only one in a town that small anyway.  So, off we went one Saturday.  We arrived in "town" which is pretty much one road,  and couldn't seem to find any cemetery, so we stopped and asked someone which way to the cemetery.

 "Which one?,"  he said. 
"There's more than one?"
"Well, who are you looking for?", he asked. 

My thinking was that I'm looking for a man who died in 1934,  it's not like this guy would know him;  but my mother didn't miss a beat and piped up "Old Doc Howard."
"Oh, my father knew him. He'd be buried in the Baptist Cemetery."  And he gave us directions.

Flabberghasted but happy, I followed his directions and in no time we found his grave. Not fifteen minutes later, this same man pulls in behind us with his car.  Mr. Dull as it turns out, had more information to share that he thought we'd want to know.  His 90-year-old dad lives with him and he went inside to tell his Dad after giving us the directions.  His Dad relayed these two stories and so he came up to the cemetery to share them with us. 

1) Doc Howard had stitched up Mr. Dull's father when he was a little boy after the sled he was riding wedged him under a barbed-wire fence, and

2) that this was a story that Doc Howard himself liked to tell:

Mrs. Shipley had asked him to come around (remember doctors used to make house calls) and check on her teenage daughter.  The girl was prone to bouts of nausea that seemed to come and go. It was like no flu she'd ever seen.  The doc examined her and informed Mrs. Shipley that her daughter didn't have the flu or any other ailment, she was pregnant.  The indignant woman told him that just wasn't possible, as her daughter was now and had always been a good girl.  'Why she's never even been with a boy'.  At this point, he shook his head, laughed and said that "God hadn't done it that way in 1900 years, and he'd guess that wasn't going to change now."

So what did I learn on that trip?  Birthdate and death date from the tombstone, but priceless stories from Mr. Dull.  Don't be afraid to ask the local folks!

As I've mentioned before, the detective work inherent in genealogy research is one of the things I enjoy and the thrill of uncovering a juicy story is equaled by the thrill of finding the next generation back. When I started my grandmother had most of her genealogy already done, back 9 or 10 generations in most cases,  so there wasn't a lot to discover on my own for that side of the family.  Luckily, I had three other grandparents who didn't know (or maybe didn't care).  In any case, there were lots of unknown ancestors to find!  And find I did. However, after 20 years of research the new finds are fewer and farther between. We get so far on a line and hit our "brick walls" and they remain that way for years.  But this past weekend, one of those walls moved!

I found a death certificate for my 3rd great-grandfather Charles C. Parsons;  it listed his parents names (including mother's maiden name!)- Joseph Parsons and Julia Safford.  I just want to say, I love those anal-retentive New Englander's who felt the need to document everything that ever happened in their town.  My Pennsylvania ancestors, were born, married, and died and nobody official ever took note.

So here's to my 4th-great grandparents - Joseph and Julia.  So far that's all I have but I look forward to finding out more about them in months (maybe years) to come.

I love history in general.  Mine or anyone elses.  Since I have a large collection of resource books, I volunteer to do lookups in them for others.   When a request came to me to do a lookup for Indian John Miller,  I knew I had a good bit of information in many different places.  This was a great excuse to cull it all together and add some coherent notes into my database for my 7th great-grand-uncle. (i.e., brother to my 7th great-grandmother). Of my 7G-grandmother who married Benedict Lehman,  I know virtually nothing, not even her first name, but her brother was a big part of Somerset County lore.  So...

According to Gingerich & Kreider(1)  John Miller was know by the names "Wounded John" "Crippled John" or "Indian John."  He was born in Europe and died in Somerset County PA in 1798.

DJH (2) p. 953. states that "John MIller,  was wounded by the Indians when they were taking the family of Jacob Hostetler into captivity."  That means that it also puts John living in the Northkill Settlement, Berks Co., PA in Sept. 1757. Since that was the date and place of the Indian attack mentioned.  He later moved to Somerset County as did many of the Amish in that area. DJH p. 953 also mentions that it gets it's information from an account of the Indian John Miller family by Moses B. Miller of Geistown, PA.

This family info is from G&K p. 270.  Order of issue uncertain. All children were born in  Berks Co, PA . children of John Miller & ?:

• Barbara, born circa 1750 married Jacob Hochstetler
• John, born circa 175, married Veronica, nicknamed  "Fanny". He died June 13, 1802 in Somerset County
• Jacob, born August 1754, married Anna Stutzman. He died 2/25/1835 in Tuscarawas co., Ohio
• Peter, born 1756 married Mary Stutzman. he died 11/1/1818 in Somerset county.
• Catherine, born circa 1758 married Jacob Kauffman
• Christian born circa 1760, married Veronica. He died in 1839 in Somerset county.
• Joseph, born circa 1762 married first Barbara Speicer, then Barbara Bontrager
• Mary, born circa 1764 married John Schrock
• Veronica "Franey", born circa 1766 married Christian Speicer
• a duaghter born circa, 1768 married Christian Mishler
• Elizabeth, born circa 1770 married Joseph Speicher

Somerset county orphans Court records July 28, 1798 show Magdalena widow of John Miller renouncing the right to administer the estate in favor of eldest son John and son-in-law Joseph Speicher.  G&K (still p. 270) notes that Magdalena MAY have been Indian John's second wife and therefore NOT the mother of his children. But it's also possible that she was indeed his only wife.  The reason for the confusion over the wife is as follows: "A near neighbor of wounded John was Benedict Lehman. Since a grandson of Wounded John was named Benedict Miller and since Benedict is a quite uncommon name among the Amish in America except for the Benedict Miller's descendants, it seems likely that there was some connection between the Miller and Lehman families. Benedict Lehman was on the ship list of Oct. 8, 1737 with apparently a son benedict on the list of women and children but no daughter Magdalena. Thus the widow of Wounded John Miller could not have been a daughter of Benedict Lehman But Barbara or Catherine Lehman, probable daughters of Benedict on the ship list might have been the first wife of Wounded John and the mother of his children.

As to when John Miller arrived in America, no one is quite certain, but G&K. p. 269 offers up the following:
"Among the many well-known Amish names on the 9/15/1749 ship list are Hannes Miller, Jacob Miller, Christian Miller, Peter Miller, Jacob Mishler, Joseph Mishler, Benedict Lehman, David Miller, and Abraham Kurtz.  It seems likely that three or more of the MILLERs named above were members of the Miller family under consideration.  Since the real name of Wounded John's son John was Hannas, it's likely that Wounded John's real name was also that and the Hannes Miller listed might well have been "Wounded John."

And in case that really is him, here's the information from the ships list. (see source 3).  "At the Court house at Philadelphia, Friday, the 15th September 1749.  The  foreigners whose Names are underwritten, imported in the ship Phoenix, John Mason, Master ... did this day take the usual Qualifications to the government. By the List 261. 550 whole freights, from Zweybrech, Nassau, Wirtemberg, and Palitinate."   [Just FYI,  550 whole freights were the total number transported.  The list has only 261 names since only men over the age of 16 were required to swear allegiance to the English crown.]

Lastly, Indian John was most probably the son of Christian Miller (also listed on the above-mentioned ships list.)

DJH p. 33 says (when describing  the story of the captive Hostetler family being marched off) "There is a traditional what while crossing the mountains they passed a cleaning where a man named Miller, was chopping. He was shot at and hit in the hand as he raised his ax; he fled and was not pursued."  DBH (see source 4, written after 26 more years of research by the author)) on page 26 relays the exact same language but with a footnote that this Miller was indeed Indian John or Wounded John Miller.


Source list:

(1) Gingerich & Krieder, Amish & Amish Mennonite Genealogies,  (Pequea Publishing, Gordonville, PA. 1986.).

(2)Harvey Hochstetler, Descendants of Jacob Hochstetler,  (Gospel Book Store. Reprint. originally published, 1912).

(3) Strassberger, R. B., Pennsylvania German Pioneers,  (Picton Press. Camden, Maine. 1992.). Volume 1, pp. 404-407

(4)Harvey Hochstetler, Descendants of  Barbara Hochstetler and Christian Stutzman,  (Gospel Book Store. Reprint. originally published, 1938).

My great-great grandfather William Henry Benjamin was born in 1841, the son of a well-to-do Concord, Massachusetts family.  At some point in the late 1850's the family hired Victoria Regina "Jenny" Masters, an immigrant from Nova Scotia, to be their maid. She was nearly five years older than their eldest son William.  When he was 19 in 1861, he married Jenny Masters (age 24) and one month later enlisted in the Civil War and didn't come home for three years.  I can only what poor Jenny's life must have been, being stuck in the same house with her former employers as their new daughter-in-law and without her husband around. Anyway,  I do know some of what William's life was while in the war, thanks to this family heirloom.

The following is a transcription of a long-hand letter written by W. H. Benjamin to his daughter Clara on Oct. 30, 1898 describing his Civil War service:
 
The principal battles I took part in are Williamsburg, Fair Oaks, Glendale, Malvern Hill,
Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, Locust Grove, Wilderness, Spottsylvania
Court House, besides several skirmishes. Now the difference between a skirmish and
battle is this a skirmish is where a small number of troops are sent out to find the enemy
how they are located etc. but not to bring on a general engagement but sometimes it
cannot be avoided. A battle is a general engagement where both sides exert themselves
with brains and force, to drive the enemy and secure a victory, the battles above named
were all very severe and stubborn with greats loss of life on both sides. The strain and
hardships in time of battle are great, loss of sleep with little chance to eat or drink.
Sometimes feeling as though you could not breathe for want of water, and then in battle
you have a great deal of marching as well as fighting. I have been 48 hours without food,
and on the march at that, some of the time double quick or double time. The Battles of
Fair Oaks, Glendale, Malvern Hill followed one after the other, seven days of fighting
and seven nights marching. One might picture to themselves some of the hardships in a
soldiers life in time of war, scarcity of water was one of the greatest hardships, one hardly
realizes what it is to almost die for the want of it, long marches in rain and hot sun,
sometime fifteen miles a day or rather that was an average days march. I remember one
day we made forty-five miles when I dropped unable to go any farther, as I had the
chronic diarrhea (is that spelt right). A soldiers life in camp is rather lazy a great deal of
the time, some of the time there is excitement - enough to make pleasant. I will not write
any more, although, if I should have commenced at the beginning of my three years and
follow it out, there would be quite a book.

Oh, how I wish he would have written a book!

Since today is St. Patrick's Day, my thoughts always turn to my Irish ancestors, all of whom, I'd like to think are smiling down at me.  Let me start with the 'green' (Irish Catholic) side of the family tree. 

My 3rd-great grandfather Frank Fagan (1826-1897) was part of the huge migration from Ireland during the potato famine. He was probably from county Westmeath in central Ireland. What his circumstances were in Ireland, I don't really know, but here's a pretty fair guess. "Devon in February 1845 reported that 'It would be impossible adequately to describe the privations which they [Irish labourer and his family] habitually and silently endure . . . in many districts their only food is the potato, their only beverage water . . . their cabins are seldom a protection against the weather... a bed or a blanket is a rare luxury . . . and nearly in all their pig and a manure heap constitute their only property.' The Commissioners concluded that they could not "forbear expressing our strong sense of the patient endurance which the labouring classes have exhibited under sufferings greater, we believe, than the people of any other country in Europe have to sustain."  (source: Cecil Woodham-Smith, The Great Hunger, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1991, p. 24).

Frank married Elizabeth Martin born in Ireland in December 1829, she died 17 Oct 1901. I don't have a date or place for their marriage but my guess is that it was here in America, circa 1851.  Their first child, was born in March of 1852 in West Troy, New York. 

Frank and Elizabeth lived in the south section of West Troy - just north of the Watervliet Arsenal.  Perhaps Frank who is listed on census records as simply "laborer" worked there. The Fagans had seven daughters.   Four of them are in this photo.  Mary Fagan Owens my gg-grandmother is the dark-haired beauty in the center. My guess is that her sisters Catherine, Elizabeth & Bridget are the other three, those being the four oldest.

The Fagans attended St. Brigid's Church and Frank & Elizabeth are buried at St. Patrick's Cemetery in Watervliet. 

I realize this post doesn't have the same "story value" as most of my others, but the fact is I know very little of this family, and there's probably not much more to uncover.  I attended a genealogy workshop on finding Irish ancestors (specifically Northern Ireland, but it applies to the rest of the island too) and the fact is that the English have destroyed most Irish records, so finding out anything more is not very likely.  But I still hold out hope that the luck of the Irish may yet turn up something new about this family.

The TV show "All in the Family" brought the opposing viewpoints of Archie & Meathead to the nation in the 70's.  And my own family is full of conservatives while I remain a proud liberal. Heck, one of my Dad's friends got a hearty belly laugh to find out that Bill Welsh raised a Democrat! As I've gone back over family information it's often hard to tell what our ancestors political views were, but here are some I've discovered.  The good, the bad, and the West Virginia feuds!

Here's one on the HESS side of the family {my grandfather's ancestors} that I'm proud of.  Source: History of Bedford & Somerset Counties, by Blackburn & Welfley,  Vol. 1, p. 376. [discussing the Underground Railroad]There was, however, in this county[Bedford], as well as in many eastern and a few western ones, a pretty well defined line of travel, which gave aid and assistance to fugitive slaves in their efforts to secure their freedom beyond the Canadian line. ... The persons most actively engaged in this business along the line were ... Samuel Hess, George Hess and John Hess of Pleasantville."

However, on my grandmother's side of the family,  my great-grandfather's diary (in my aunt's posession) talks about the Klan meetings he attended in the 1920's.  So, while I can claim abolitionists, I'm forced to claim the Klan member too. 

My favorite political story though has to do with just that political hot topic - abolition - dividing the family.  While tracing my HOWARD line, I made a trip to Marshall County, West Virginia.  There I was hoping to find my 4th great-grandfather's grave. From census records, I deduced that he died in Marshall County between 1860 and 1870.  Some research at the local historical society turned up a Howard Cemetery in Cameron, West Virginia.

Upon asking one of the volunteers if she knew where it was, I got a chuckle and a follow up question. "Which Howard Cemetery, the Howard Republican Cemetery or the Howard Democratic Cemetery?"  At this point I was flabberghasted, there are TWO different cemeteries for the same HOWARD family!  I drove to them both; they are about a half mile apart. During the drive I couldn't help but wonder  what a post-Civil War family must have been like; to have such deep-seated political wounds as to not want to be buried in the same cemetery.

I did not, however, find my 4th great-grandfather's grave in either cemetery.  I wonder if he was seeking neutral ground.

On his return from Lexington, in the night previous to the 19 of April 1775, where he had spent the evening in paying his addresses to the daughter of a Mr. Mulliken, he soon overtook Paul Revere and William Dawes on their way to Concord to alarm the people and apprise them of the intended expedition of British soldiers upon Concord. When the three had arrived near Hartwell's tavern in the lower bounds of Lincoln, they were attacked by four British officers of a scouting party send out the preceding evening. Revere and Dawes were taken prisoners, Prescott was also attacked and had the reins of his horse's bridle cut, but he succeeded in making his escape by jumping his horse over a wall; and taking a circuitous route through Lincoln, pushed on with the utmost speed to Concord, and gave the alarm of the approach of the British. he was subsequently taken prisoner on board of a privateer, and carried into Halifax, Nova Scotia, where he died in prison. [Source: "The Prescott Memorial" by Eben Prescott. page 66.]

Dr. Samuel Prescott (19 Aug 1751 - ?) was the 1st cousin to my 5th great-grandmother Ann Prescott Heywood. (For any Putnams reading this, you read it correctly; he is most closely related through the Heywood side of the family not the Prescott side of the family.) My grandmother had a much fuller speech on this ride that she delivered to her DAR chapter. But I don't know where that got to.

After I first posted this, Uncle Bob sent me the following addition via e-mail. - Your Dr. Sam Prescott story reminded me that I'd never shared with you the same incident as related in Allen French's book "The Day of Lexington & Concord". pp 91ff:

"In the meantime, (William) Dawes [another relative of ours, via the same branch by which Cal Coolidge enters, as I recall, but Nancy can confirm] having arrived (at the Clarke house in Lexington) Revere had set out again with him to alarm Concord. They were overtaken by a young Doctor Samuel Prescott (a Concord man who had been calling on his sweetheart in Lexington) whom they found to be a "high son of Liberty". As they rode Revere told his companions of his experience with the two officers, and his belief that still others were on the road before them. Nevertheless, they went on, arranging to alarm every house, Prescott willingly helping them, and useful because he knew the people. As Revere expected, he came upon more officers; it was when he was again alone, the others having stayed to alarm a house. Seeing before him two officers, as he thought, he called to his friends to come up: "there were two, & we would have them." In an instant he was surrounded by four, and! when young Prescott came up, the officers, with drawn pistols and emphatic oaths and threats, forced them to go through a pair of bars, which had been let down, into a pasture. [this spot is now marked by a tablet]
"When we had got in, Mr. Prescott said "put on,"" and taking to the left, while Revere took to the right, jumped his horse over allow stone wall, and escaped. Revere had no such luck. Observing a small wood, he spurred for that, intending to leap from his horse and escape on foot; but when he reached it, out started six officers, who seized his bridle, and at the muzzle of their pistols made him dismount.
Some of his captors abused him much; later, he said, they insulted him, calling him rebel, which we do not consider as much of an insult as did he. But one of his captors was a gentleman, questioned him courteously, recognized his name, and played a game of bluff with Revere, at which the Yankee had the better. "He said...they were only waiting for some deserters they expected down the road: I told them I knew better, I knew what they were after; that I had alarmed the country all the way up, that their Boats were catch'd aground, and I should have 500 men there soon."
Surprised, these officers called their leader from the road, Major Mitchel of the 5th Regiment. His questions getting no better answer from Revere, he ordered his whole party to the road, and with them Revere and four other prisoners who now appeared from the bushes. These were Solomon Brown, Hancock's messenger to Concord, and two other Lexington men; having fallen into the officer's ambush, they had waited here some two hours. The fourth man was a harmless peddler......at the sound of guns from Lexington) the major... consulted with his subordinates.
....But with Prescott escaped toward Concord, and Dawes vanished back toward Lexington, with Revere's story in their minds, and now this volley of alarm guns in their ears, they well have felt that their mission had come to a fruitless end.
.....Dawes had escaped from the two officers who pursued him by a trick characteristic of the man. Riding at full speed into the next barnyard, he shouted as if to call the inmates of the house to his aid. His horse stopped so quickly that he fell and lost his watch; but though the house was empty, his pursuers departed more quickly still, and he got safely away. The watch was later returned to him. But little more is known of his doings later that night; Dawes is out of the story."

This was apparently the answer given by my 5th great-grandfather no matter who was asking the question. When my son was studying the Revolutionary War in 6th grade, I showed him a list of all the ancestors he had who fought in the War. (You can be sure that one of these days, I'll get around to putting that list in a blog post.) Anyway, as he looked at the list, he asked if all of them were Patriots or had some of them been Tories.  After I proclaimed them all Patriots, I found this record just a few short weeks later in the book "The Robertses of New England," by Thomas A. Jacobsen.

Eliphalet Roberts (15 Apr 1750 - 27 Sept 1843) was one of the first settlers of Strafford, Vermont, having a 100 acre farm there as early as 1774.  He was also the father of at least 16 children. Yes, I said at least 16. The above-mentioned book suggests may he had 22 children in all, but I have names for only 16.[1]  Anyway, Eliphalet enlisted in the Revolutionary cause in early 1777 and served at Ticonderoga.[2]  The following petition signed by fourteen citizens of Strafford tells what happened next:

                "Strafford April ye29, 1778
   These may certify Any Gentlemen to whom it may concern that Eliphalet Roberts is an inhabitant of this town and that he did in July last desert his Countreys Cause and fled to the Enemy and their remaind til the Surrender of General Burgoin and Quick after that he returned to this town and Appeared to be very sorry for his Conduct made all the Recantations that could be thought proper He promises to be friendly for the future and to be subject to our laws since he came home appears to be Agreable to his Confession and promises He has a large family of small children and if he should be stript of what little improvements he has theirs some danger of his famelyes being some charge to the State Therefore if the Honorable Counsil in their wisdom should see fit sofar to Restore him as to allow him the use of his land upon his good behavour for the future it would be lokt upon as an act of generosity and be well accepted by the town in general."[3]

So... Patriot --> Loyalist --> Patriot again and with apologies this time. It sounds to me like Grandpa Roberts was on the side of whomever he judged to be the most advantageous to himself and his family. Can't say that I really blame him.

[1} By the way, the children listed in the book are incorrect.  The author lists 17 of the supposed 22 chidlren, but one of the 17 is actually his granddaughter, not his daughter.
[2]  Miles, pp. 77-8; Holbrook, Jay Mack.  Vermont's First Settlers.  Oxford, Mass.: Holbrook Research Institute, 1982, p. 71.
[3]  Document at the Vermont Historical Society.
 

On April 14, 1933 the following item appeared in the Bedford Gazette.

"Bedford State Police Clamp Down on Two-in-one Liquor Joint and Bawdy House." Stringtown "sporting house" ends year's existence as quartet are brought to justice.

A raid upon one of Bedford County's "sporting houses" which netted the county jail four lodgers for a good many nights to come occurred the night of Thursday, April 6, at a lonely house on a dirt road in Stringtown, about six miles south of Hyndman.

The house was not lonely in one sense. A great quantity of liquor and four residents, Lester C. English, 26,  Ruby English, 19, his wife, Carl Nissen, 26, and Ella Wilhelm,  33, were all taken from the house. The liquor was destroyed. Wilhelm and Nissen were arraigned before Squire H. A. Clark, on charge of operating a bawdy house and violating liquor laws. Lester English was charged with violating the liquor laws, and his wife, Ruby, for being an inmate of a bawdy house. All were held for court on $800 for each charge, in default of bail. They are now in the county jail.

The raid followed the receipt at the Bedford State Police Headquarters of a large number of complaints against the place. It was reported that a large number of youths in the vicinity of Hyndman and elsewhere had contracted venereal diseases there. The raid of last Thursday followed a preliminary plain clothes investigation of the premises Monday night. Enough evidence was secured on this visit to warrant the raid.

Accordingly, two state police appeared at the house earlier in the evening of the raid, Privates DeWitt and Hanmore. In plain clothes they were in such a position to aid their fellow police if resistance were made by those inside. The police who made the raid, shortly before midnight, were Corp. Maroney, in charge of the others, Corp. Tevelin of McConnellsburg, and Constable Harry Fetters of Bedford. The night was stormy and the roads were in terrible shape. But for this it is likely that twenty or so arrests would have been made, not an unusual number of "inmates" and customers for this place.

Ella Wilhelm is a former resident of Hyndman and had operated the place at Stringtown for about a year. Carl Nissen who rents the house from a Frostburg man, tried to take the entire responsibility for the raid, but this chivalry was rebuffed by the police's certain knowledge that the woman had been in charge on previous occasions.  [Nancy's Note:  if they knew this, it makes you wonder how many times the policemen 'staked out' the place].  Carl Nissen claimed Columbus, Ohio as his home and said that he had been in Stringtown only about five months, where he had formed a partnership with Ella Wilhelm to operate the place. English and his wife said they were from California, and that they had tarried with the others about a month, long enough to get enough money to move on. All those arrested were taken to the State clinic in Bedford for a health examination. It is alleged that as the volume of the business at eh "resort" demanded many girls, recruits were gathered from the vicinity and afar.

The house of the raid is a frame one-story bungalow which sits back from Stringtown's one and only street some 150 yards, along a narrow dirt road. It contains four rooms.

The living room is oblong, containing in the center an oilcloth covered table. About this and on the lounges which lined two sides of the room, sat many a night those who drank the beer and liquor served up from the kitchen.  Behind the bar on the night of the raid police found enough liquor to equip a sailor's hotel. There were 56 quart and 38 pint bottles of home brew and 5 ½ pints of moonshine whisky. In the wood shed just out back of the kitchen 80 more pints of beer were dug out from their hiding place. Also in the kitchen they found a 20 gallon crock of home brew, together with bottling apparatus, all ready to be bottled. No equipment was found for the distillation of whiskey and the supposition is they bought it. [End of newspaper story]

Bedford Co., has produced two Mrs. Ella Wilhelms. 

Ella Mason Wilhelm, daughter of Jesse D. & Laura (Devore) Mason of Hyndman, Londonderry twp. Was born in 1882. She married (first name unknown) Wilhelm and lived in Youngstown, Ohio in the 1920's. Her mother continued to live in Hyndman after her father's death in 1922. The Bedford Gazette reported her visiting her mother in April 1923 and Dec.1924. Laura Mason moved to Youngstown to live with her daughter prior to her death in 1944. In 1920, Ella MASON Wilhelm lists herself as a widow and she has two daughters, in 1930 she's still on the exact same street (Mahoning St.) in Youngstown. In 1944, her mother Laura dies in Youngstown, at Ella's house on Mahoning St.. In short, all the records I have indicate that  Ella Mason Wilhelm seemed to be staying put in the same house in Youngstown, Ohio. There is no indication that she ever came back to Stringtown (near Hyndman) for one year in 1932-33 to run the above-mentioned establishment and then moved back to Youngstown to the exact same house. So this leaves us with only one possibility for the Ella Wilhelm who was arrested in 1933 - my Aunt Ella.

Ella Robina Welsh, daughter of Henry & Cora Welsh, was born 3 March 1887. She married Clyde Mason Kennel 07 April 1908. Their only child, daughter Virginia, was born five weeks later on 18 May 1908. In 1923, Clyde divorced Ella as she was then living in open adultery with Frank Wilhelm. Ella was 36, Frank was barely 20. The divorce proceedings are fabulous, Clyde must have brought half the town in to testify, and clearly Ella and young Frank were the talk of the town. The divorce was final 15 Dec. 1923. She married Frank Wilhelm in Cumberland, Maryland on April 16, 1924 once he finally turned 21 and was able to marry without parental consent. On the marriage license they both still list their residence as Hyndman, PA. I cannot find Frank & Ella anywhere on a 1930 census. As an heir to her mother estate in 1937, she is listed as Ella Wilhelm living in Cumberland, Maryland.  However, sometime between 1924 and 1933, it looks like Frank disappeared from the picture. By the time of her death in 1958, Ella had married William E. Kemp and was living in Cumberland, Md. She is buried beside her parents in the Cooks Mills Cemetery without any of the above-mentioned husbands.  Her first husband Clyde (who died in 1963) is buried several miles away in the Palo Alto Cemetery. Frank Wilhelm is an unknown, and William Kemp was still living at the time of Ella's death.

Court records from the 1933 arrest of Ella Wilhelm list no witnesses. Ella plead guilty to the liquor law violations and the count of running a bawdy house was dropped. Nor did anyone bail her out.  She sat in jail from the time of the arrest to the court plea. Ella & Karl Nissen  were charged on four counts: (1) manufacture of liquor, (2) possession of liquor,  (3) sale of liquor & (4) maintaining a bawdy house.  [Note: all misdemeanors]. Both plead guilty to the first three counts only.  The fourth was dropped. L.C. English was only charged with the three liquor violations, it seems he was the bartender for the establishment. He plead guilty. Ruby English was charged only with prostitution, she did not plead guilty but she did not contest (nollo contesto). All four were sentenced to 18 months in the county jail to be paroled after 27 days.  The arrest was on April 6 (when they went into jail since they couldn't make bail) and they were released on May 19, 1933. So they spent about 33 days in the county jail.

So those are the facts and they tell quite a tale already. But naturally a story like this leads me to speculate why she would do such a thing.  I think that Ella had thrown over a seemingly stable home for a "boy toy" in 1923.  Times were good in the '20's, why not? It seems though that Frank then tossed her aside some time before 1932 (since he's clearly nowhere to be found in '32) and by then it was the depression and she had no means of support. She was already branded a fallen woman in the town with a scandalous divorce.  I think times got tough and she did the best she could to support herself. And since her own father Henry Welsh had died of syphilis in 1924, I'm sure she knew just how easily men were willing to spend money on that sort of thing.

Several things seem odd about Ella's first marriage to Clyde, Virginia was born about 5 weeks after they got married.  She was their only child in 15 years of marriage.  I see two options: 1) Something went wrong with the birth and Ella was never able to have any more children. 2) Clyde didn't really like women and that's why there were no more children.  There are actually several items that point to me thinking Clyde was gay. Is this wild conjecture? Sure.  But hear me out. After their divorce in 1923, Clyde lived the next 40 years as a bachelor.  Something men rarely stayed in those days. Also, what reason would Ella have in 1923 to go running around with a 20 year old? I think Clyde clearly never touched her. I'm further thinking that Virginia may not even have been his.  Perhaps Ella was in trouble and Clyde saw a convenient way to both do a chivalrous thing for Ella and cover up his own preferences.  In his divorce petition he indicates that she also committed adultery "with divers other persons to your petitioner unknown."  If she'd been stepping out for quite some time with many men, then why wait 15 years to divorce her?  I think it was because he didn't want to dissolve his cover marriage. Since Clyde worked for the railroad, (whether gay or straight), he could get his kicks somewhere out of town and no one would know. Ella however, was right there in town, and by 1923, had clearly become the talk of the town.  He had no choice but to divorce her once she actually moved out to live with Frank.