Throwback Thursday: William Foxwell and the Sinking of the Frigate Anson

On Christmas Eve 1807 the HMS Anson set sail from Falmouth, Cornwall. She had just returned to England after participating in the Capture of Curaçao, and the frigate, under command of Captain Charles Lydiard, was now heading to meet the channel fleet and join the blockade of Brest, France.

Christmas Eve 1807 was also William Foxwell’s 41st birthday. A farmer and Methodist minister near Mullion, Cornwall, Mr. Foxwell was a man with a voracious appetite for knowledge. In addition to studying the Bible, he studied astronomy, meteorology, and music. He had no knowledge of the Anson, nor its crew knowledge of him. Yet within days their fates would be intertwined.

On December 29, 1807, the weather off Cornwall turned violent. The Anson had sailed as far as Île de Batz on December 28, but the churning seas and dark skies convinced Capt. Lydiard to return to Falmouth. He made is as far as the Lizard, a peninsula on far southern Cornwall, before the weather came up and the Anson was forced to weigh anchor. As storm intensified, the anchor cables parted, driving the frigate onto shore. Capt. Lydiard attempted to beach the ship, hoping to provide the crew a chance to evacuate, but the rough seas pushed the frigate into the rocks off Loe Bar. By 7:00 a.m. the main mast broke, the final anchor line snapped, and crew members began to disappear into the frothing sea as they tried to maneuver across the fallen mast and reach safety.

Mr. Foxwell was at home, watching the storm through his telescope. While surveying the turbulent coast, he spotted the Anson as it was being battered against the rocks. Mr. Foxwell quickly gathered a group of local men and rushed to the struggling frigate. Seeing no one on deck, he clamored across the fallen mast and entered the sinking vessel, where he found several people still aboard. Aided by others in his party, Mr. Foxwell helped escort survivors to shore before the ship broke apart and disappeared into the surf in the early afternoon.

News of the wreck made headlines across Great Britain. Capt. Lydiard lost his life, along with more than 100 others. But many survived, thanks in no small part to the works of a man the newspapers called “the worthy preacher.” For his valiant effort, Mr. Foxwell was awarded a silver medallion, engraved with an image of the wreck and a simple inscription:

“To Mr. Wm. Foxwell, one of the humble instruments under Divine Providence of saving the lives of his fellow creatures wrecked in the Anson Frigate on the Loe Bar, 29th of Dec., 1807. This medal is given by his Country.”

Throwback Thursday: Jacob Reinig

"It is a beautiful and comfortable life to be a soldier when there is peace in the country, but in wartime it is hard,” Jacob Reinig told his sister, writing for a military encampment outside Chattanooga, Tennessee, on December 2, 1863. Jacob had joined Company C of the 10th Iowa Infantry two years earlier, the first company of volunteers raised in Tama County. His willingness join the Army showed his devotion to his adopted home.

Jacob left Bavaria at age 17 to escape military conscription. After two years in Connecticut, he moved to Iowa, where he became a U.S. citizen at age 22. The next year he married Eliza Zehrung, and by 24 he, Eliza, and their son, William, were farming northwest of Toledo. Jacob took his citizenship oath seriously, so much so that he volunteered for the Union army when the Civil War began in 1861.

Though he loved his new country, he also loved his family, and after two years at war he desperately wanted to see them again. “I hope that I may come back from this war happy and healthy to my wife and my children,” he wrote. He had two young boys at home, including one born just a few months after Jacob left for war. Little Franklin Jacob would not meet his father for three years.

“I would love to hear that we have once again peace in this country and we can all go home and be happy and healthy, but I fear that the war is going to continue on for some time to come,” Jacob wrote in 1864. After three years of war he had three goals: to never see battle again, to find his family happy and healthy, and to move west to join his brothers and sister in Montana, Oregon, or Washington. He would realize but one. There would be more battle and more bloodshed before Jacob was discharged September 28, 1864. Others in his company volunteered for three more years, but Jacob had no interest in more death. He made his way from Kingston, Georgia, back to Toledo.

There may have been opportunities to move west, but Jacob never took advantage of them. He would often visit his brother, Michael, one of the founding fathers of Helena, Montana, but he would always return home to the farm in Toledo Township. He and Eliza would continue to expand the farm and their family, becoming more prosperous – even as Jacob battled health problems stemming from his time at war.

Jacob would spend his entire life on that farm. In his final days his wife of 50 years and all nine of his living children would be by his side. His funeral, held 106 years ago today, took place at the farm, with his comrades from the Grand Army of the Republic filling the house and acting as pallbearers. His obituary summed up his life with these words: “With the satisfaction of a well spent life; with the respect of a host of friends, Jacob Reinig has gone to join the innumerable caravan of early-day settlers who have preceded him to the valley from whence no traveler returns. His memory will live long for he was one whom it was a pleasure to know.”

Throwback Thursday: Thomas and Ella Moats Kerr

The morning of December 10, 1879, was clear and cold in Clayton County. The light snow from earlier in the week had been washed away by drizzling rain. Falling temperatures had left roads frozen and rough, but Miss Ella Moats, 22, couldn’t be delayed. It was her wedding day.

Ella traveled from her home in Highland Township to 103 Mulberry Street, location of one of Elkader’s newest hotels, the Schroeder House. There she joined Thomas J. Kerr, 28, in the hotel parlors and, in front of Rev. T.E. Fleming, they exchanged marriage vows.

After the ceremony, Tom and Ella boarded the afternoon train to Chicago, where the newlyweds would spend two weeks on a “bridal tour.” After the honeymoon, they returned to Highland, where they would farm the land and raise five children. In October 1901 Tom sold the farm to James Robbins, moving his family across the county line to Illyria Township, Fayette County, on March 1, 1902.

They retired in 1916, selling the Illyria farm to their son, Will, and moving to Waterloo. Tom died January 5, 1925. Ella remained in the house at 116 Home Park Boulevard until December 6, 1938, when she broke her hip and was admitted to St. Francis Hospital. She died there March 20, 1939, at the age of 82.

Throwback Thursday: William Young Kerr

William Young Kerr was born on a farm in Highland Township, Clayton County, on December 3, 1886 – 129 years ago today. Named after his uncle, Will was the second child and only son of Tom and Ella (Moats) Kerr. They had family in Chicago and Will was a regular visitor to the Windy City, including a trip to the 1893 World’s Fair. By his teens, he was farming with his father and uncle in Highland and Illyria townships.

On December 1, 1909, Will and his cousin, Homer Moats, enrolled in the Oelwein Business University. Though he enjoyed the course, his focus was elsewhere – mostly on a young waitress in Elgin named Anna Gruver.

Their courtship had gone on for a year, Will taking Anna for rides with a team of fancy driving horses. After spending New Year's 1910 with his parents and sisters, Will boarded a train to Oelwein on Tuesday, January 11, claiming he intended to continue his business course. The same day, Anna was seen boarding a train in Elgin heading south toward Oelwein. By the weekend, the pair were in West Union, tying the knot in the Methodist parsonage on Saturday, January 15. Will was 24 years old. Anna was three days shy of her 18th birthday.

The newlyweds began farming near Volga, Anna driving a team into town twice a week to sell cream. That first summer they welcomed a daughter into their home, adding seven more children over the next 16 years. In 1916, they moved to Illyria township, where they farmed until March 1, 1957, when a grandson took over working the land.

In 1972, Anna’s health began to fail and she moved to a nursing home in Postville. Will joined her the next year. They were married 65 years before Anna died in 1975. Will remained in Postville until he passed away December 26, 1977, at the age of 91.

Throwback Thursday: Edna Finch Reinig

Edna Marie Finch was born in Boone, Iowa, on November 26, 1897 – 118 years ago today. Her father, Loren, worked for the railroad, and the family moved between Boone, Madrid, Des Moines, and Garwin. Edna’s childhood was difficult. Her father battled alcoholism while her mother, Clara, battled the emotional and financial strains it brought to their home.

On January 9, 1909, Loren abandoned the family, leaving 11-year-old Edna, her three younger siblings, and her pregnant mother destitute. Edna had to grow up fast. While attending high school in Garwin she did housework for area families and cared for her siblings, especially baby sister, Mary. Along the way she made many friends, with trips to Clear Lake with girlfriends, house parties, and picnics on the Iowa River. One friend, a farm boy named Lawrence Reinig, soon became something more.

Lawrence, who lived near Toledo, would get to Garwin any way possible – by car, on foot, and even hopping the freight train. He would spend his evenings at the Garwin Telephone Office, sitting with Edna while she worked the switchboard. They wrote each other constantly, Edna encouraging him to visit often: “It won’t make any difference if you’re in your work clothes,” she wrote. “I don’t care and it isn’t anyone's business how you look… You know darned well you can come anytime. I’m not going anywhere.”

Their marriage on September 12, 1923, was a surprise to no one. For months, Edna’s friends had asked her when it was going to happen. When she came into work one morning after a late night visiting Lawrence, her boss greeted her with, “You aren’t married now, are you?”

They would start their family the next year, eventually having four children, six grandchildren, and several great-grandchildren before Edna’s passing in 1972.

He just wanted to see the elephant!

A little context: David Moats is my great-great-great-great-grandfather and $500 in 1880 would be about $11,600 in 2015 after adjusting for inflation.

The Elkader Register May 27, 1880, p. 3

TAKEN IN BY SHARPERS.

Mr. David Moats, an old and prominent citizen of Highland, did a very foolish thing the other day, one that will be a lesson to him as long as he lives. Last Friday was circus day and Mr. Moats came to town to see the elephant. In the course of the forenoon he became acquainted with several sleek talking men, who done the agreeable to him, and introducing him to the side show, proceeded to initiate him into some of the mysteries and tricks with cards. The careless manner in which the cards were handled convinced him that he could name the winning card and never fail. Mr. Moats is not a betting man, but just to learn these careless boys a lesson, he came down to town and borrowed $500, and returning to the side show, bet it and of course lost his money.

He took his loss philosophically and took measures to regain the money. Sheriff Place and Murdock & Larkin took the matter in hand and through the proprietors of the circus, induced the monte man to refund all but $50. The attorneys and sheriff were paid for their services, the net loss amounting to only $200. Mr. Moats is a highly respected and well to do farmer of Highland, and this experience though costly, is a valuable one to him.

Civil War Memories

Whenever I get frustrated with dead ends or brick walls in my research, I remember I am actually incredibly lucky with some of my ancestors. I have some ancestors whose lives are very well documented, and some who did the job themselves. John D. Shaffer is one of those. He was prominent in his home area, so people knew him, respected him, and listened to him. He also apparently liked to reminisce and tell stories of his early days. Since he was so well known (serving as county supervisor, state representative, and bank president over the course of his career), people listened. 

I have several accounts from local newspapers where Mr. Shaffer shared his recollections with readers. They're an amazing glimpse at the past and the little details of life that would escape the official records. One just discovered this morning shares his memories of life during the Civil War. Mr. Shaffer was just a child at the time, but old enough to remember where he was when he heard the news of President Lincoln's assassination: 

The West Union Argo-Gazette Dec. 29, 1926, p. 4

RECOLLECTI’N OF 60s

JOHN D. SHAFFER REMEMBERS WEST UNION DOINGS IN CIVIL WAR DAYS

John D. Shaffer of Elgin, formerly Fayette county’s representative in the legislature, puts more than sixty-four years of residence in Fayette county behind him, having come to West Union when four years of age, in 1862, with his father, Rev. Israel Shaffer. In the spring of 1866 they moved to Illyria township, where John D. farmed and bred draft horses till he moved to Elgin in 1917. Mr. Shaffer attended school in West Union, on the hill this side of the cemetery, with the Rogers, Hall, and Knox boys as his schoolmates. He remembers how the war news used to come by stagecoach, the drivers sending the teams along as fast as they could. He especially remembers that as he and his father were driving to West Union one day in 1865, the coach passed them at high speed, when one of the horses dropped over. The stage hands jumped off, cut the harness loose, and drove on as fast as they could with the remaining three horses. When the Shaffers got to West Union they found that the news which was being rushed was that of the assassination of President Lincoln. Mr. Shaffer distinctly remembers the incident as to one man in West Union cheering when he heard the news, and of his being given notice to leave town within a short specified time, which he did.

Mr. Shaffer and his partner, B.A. Cowen, herded cattle in 1877, on the prairie where Hawkeye now stands. They began herding cattle the year after John Hall quit, and had 1,128 head of cattle entrusted to their care by stock owners all the way from West Union to McGregor. At that date the farmers living beyond Hawkeye hauled all their wood for fuel from the timber east of West Union.

Throwback Thursday: Amy Richards

Amy Richards had a passion for music. It was in her blood. Her grandfather was a talented musician and her father, a native of England, told tall tales of reducing Queen Victoria to tears with his solos on the English stage. Amy’s career began at 17, teaching piano and voice between terms at Upper Iowa University. As a young woman, she was organist at Illyria Church, while offering lessons from her parents’ farmhouse across the street.

In 1912, the family moved to West Union and Amy set up her studio in the house at 103 South Vine Street. Her pupils were all ages, from children to housewives. She taught three generations of some families, leaving her home cluttered with photos, letters, and mementos from “her kids.” She taught her niece, and later three great-nieces, who would listen to Amy’s mother, their great-grandmother, tell stories of hoop skirts and covered wagons while waiting for their turn with Aunt Amy.

Families packed her parlor for recitals, with folding chairs crammed into every space and parents crowded on the front porch. Her dedication was unwavering. In 1968, at the age of 87, she was hospitalized after a fall in her home. As soon as she was well, she was back at the piano. “I couldn’t go on teaching if it weren’t for the kids,” she once said. “I’m full of humor and they amuse me so.”

She retired at age 88 and moved to a nursing home in Oelwein, where she died November 19, 1971, age 90 – 44 years ago today.

Throwback Thursdays

About a month ago I started writing Throwback Thursday posts on Facebook. If you know anything about social media you know what I'm talking about - on Thursdays you post an old photo of yourself with the hashtag #TBT or #ThrowbackThursday. It's meant to be fun and nostalgic.

For mine, I decided to take a different approach. Instead of photos of myself, I started posting photos of ancestors. Usually I would create a photo collage with 5-10 photos of the person in question. That person had to have a link to the date on which that particular Thursday fell. For example, in late October one Thursday fell on the day my third-great-grandfather, Jacob Reinig, became a U.S. citizen in 1858. For that one, I posted photos of his naturalization papers, as well as a paragraph about his path to citizenship.

Last week, I quoted a newspaper article published on the same date in 1903, noting the election of another third-great-grandfather, John D. Shaffer, to his first term in the Iowa House of Representatives. This week, It was the anniversary of the death of Mr. Shaffer's wife, Susan (Robbins) Shaffer.

I have enjoyed writing these and family members have commented on them as well. It only occurred to me this morning that they would make excellent fodder for blog posts! I have been woefully neglectful of this blog for some time, so I don't know why I shouldn't re-post my #ThrowbackThursday items here as posts at the same time.

I'll go post some now and backdate them so the stories link to the dates. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing them.

Throwback Thursday: Susan Robbins Shaffer

#TBT: On November 12, 1923, 92 years ago today, Susan Shaffer died at her home in Elgin, Iowa. Susan Christena Robbins grew up in Clayton County and married John D. Shaffer, a preacher's son and farmer, in 1878. They lived in Illyria Township, Fayette County, where John was prosperous in business and politics (last week's #TBT) and Susan raised eight children.

Her health began to decline in 1911 when she was diagnosed with diabetes. Six years later, she and John moved into small house in Elgin, as life on the farm had become to strenuous. In October 1922, the Shaffers visited Lindlahr Sanitarium in Elmhurst, Illinois, to seek "consultation and diagnosis" from Dr. Henry Lindlahr, whose "Natural Cure" approach focused on fresh air, exercise, and no surgical or medical interventions.

Upon returning to Elgin, she found her health no better, and quietly slipped away a year later on November 12 at the age of 64 years. Her funeral, held the afternoon of November 14, was large, with "Elgin stores closed during the hour of the service as a mark of respect."

In her own words

A few weeks ago I went to Community Day, an annual tradition at Illyria Community Church. A older woman came up to me with a cassette tape. In 1979 she had worked on gathering local stories about the church for a history book. She recorded her interviews, stashing them away in boxes in her basement until recently.

"This is an interview with Bessie Shaffer," she said. I let out an audible gasp. Bessie Shaffer was my great-great grandmother, who was born in 1883 and died in 1980. Bessie sat down for this interview when she was 96 years old, just a year before she died.

I gladly took the tape, eager to hear the voice of someone born in 1883 - and not just someone, but my ancestor! The trouble was, I didn't have a tape player. It's 2015! I don't even have a VCR!

Thank you, Internet, for providing me the answer. A quick Amazon purchase later and I had a cassette converter express mailed (I couldn't wait!). The interview was only about 10 minutes long and Bessie's voice was faint, as the recorder sat next to the interviewer. I had to remind myself not to be frustrated, as I wasn't alive when this tape was made, so I couldn't have changed things if I had wanted to anyway.

Hearing her voice was a thrill. Hearing her stories about childhood in the 1880s and 1890s was incredible. I have spent so much time researching Bessie and her family, that hearing her own words and her own perspective on her live was downright moving.

Oh yes. I remember winters where we didn’t get to school nearly all winter because the snow was so deep. [You] couldn’t get there. Father would take us with a sled when he could, but some winters – yes, we had some winters we didn’t get to school. Sometimes we had to go another way, you know, we couldn’t go our road because it was kind of a road through there where the snow filled in, it was always deep at this house. And the men, they had no way of shoveling it out and they’d wait until spring, you see…

She also talked about her love of family, something everyone in my family still remembers today:

My happiest was after the children all left, when they could all come home again and bring the grandchildren. They were all close enough to all come home for Thanksgiving or Christmas or something like that. I think I enjoyed that a lot.

I transcribed, digitized, and shared the interview with the family. Of course, there were so many more questions I would have asked Bessie if I had been able to do the interview. So many burning questions that I fear will never be answered.

But then again, I never thought I'd hear Bessie's voice for myself - so stranger things have happened.

Do you know this child?

A distant cousin and fellow researcher sent me this photo the other day. It's a cabinet photo of a young child taken in Marshalltown, Iowa. My cousin and I share several ancestors, including William and Sarah (Jester) Jackson and Jonathon and Mary (Upp) Zehrung (in her case, through their daughter, Maria (Zehrung) Hoffman).

So, if you are related, if you recognize this photo, if you have this photo... please, leave a comment.

Illegitimate roots, legitimate shock

A few weeks ago I wrote about the great results I had with a researcher in Germany. My notes were based on my translation of very dense, hard to read church records from 150 years ago.

Today, the researcher emailed me with her transcriptions and translations. With that email came a number of fascinating things.

First, I discovered my great-great-great grandfather wasn't born in Laboe, like I had previously thought. I had misread the dense German handwriting. He was instead from Belau, a small village not 15 minutes from Ruhwinkel, where he lived with his family (including my great-great grandfather).

Perhaps the biggest shocker was the transcription of Christian's marriage to my great-great-great grandmother, Juliana Ruge. I will share it here in it's entirety:

Engagement No. 25 on July 10. / Wedding No. 25 on August 7. / Sienknecht, Christian Friedrich, bachelor, son in marriage, 36 years old, parents: tailor Hans Hinrich Sienknecht from Belau and Anna Catharina, geb. Theden in Ruhwinkel, / Juliana Maria Sophia Margretha Ruge, Juliana Maria Sophia Margretha geb. Ruge: illegitimate child, 25 ½ years old, parents: Ida Wilhelmine Sophia Seligmann, Hans Joachim Friedrich Ruge in Ruhwinkel witnesses: 1) Asmus Hept(?), Ruhwinkel, 2) Dorothea Theden in Belau. / Vaccinationsattests: Machs 1822 No 81, Groth, 1833 No. 39 / Schönböken

Juliana was the ILLEGITIMATE child of Hans Joachim Friedrich Ruge and Ida Wilhelmine Sophia Seligmann! What!? I received this email at work and I'll admit I gasped out loud when I read that. My coworkers were very unsettled.

Juliana didn't live long after her marriage, dying in 1860 just six months after the birth of her fifth child (my ancestor). By the time she had passed her mother, Ida, had already passed on as well according to her death record. The burial record, however, says something interesting about her mother: her maiden name was Möller. Does this mean Seligmann was a married name? What was Juliana's relationship with her father? She had his name and he was listed on her marriage record, so he must have recognized her. According to the biography of one of her sons, John Henry, when she died her brother, Joachim Ruge, helped raise the children. Clearly the family was close.

The researcher in Germany is still digging into the family and I expect to learn more about the Ruge family soon. 

Finding a place that doesn't exist

The town of Harmstedt, in the Holstein region of Germany, isn't real. It doesn't exist. It never existed. Yet, it is the hometown of my great-great grandfather, Henry Staker. How can this be? Something got lost in translation? Hopefully I'm on the trail to finding out.

Recently I found contact information online for church archives in Germany. They are set up by regions or districts, so you have to know a general idea of where to look before contacting them, or else spend a lot of time on wild goose chases. My first research request was in the Plön district, for the small town of Ruhwinkel, where my great-great grandfather, Henry Sienknecht, was born.

Fortunately for me, Ruhwinkel (spelled Rhuwinkel in newspaper accounts of his life) is a real place. I knew his parents' names from the 1925 Iowa Census and knew from a 1905 biography of his brother, John Henry Sienknecht, that they had a sister, Annie, who also lived in Germany. I also knew from this biography that their mother, Julia Ruge, died when the children were young.

Armed with this information, I emailed the researcher in that district and asked if she could find a record of Henry's birth, as well as a record of his parents and any siblings. It took her just a week to respond saying she'd found not only Henry's birth, but the birth of his four (!) siblings, the marriage of his parents, and their death records.

Before this request, here's what I knew about the Sienknecht family:

Father: Christian F. Sienknecht
Mother: Julia Ruge
Children:
John Henry Sienknecht
Henry Detlef Sienknecht* 
Annie Sienknectht

After the researcher in Germany contacted me, this is what I discovered:

Father: Christian Friedrich Sienknecht
Birth: 24 Jul 1817 in Belau, Plon, Schleswig-Holstein, Germany

Parents: August Hans and Ana Cathrina Sienknecht

Death: 22 Jul 1900 in Bornhöved, Segeberg, Schleswig-Holstein, Germany

Mother: Juliana Maria Sophia Margaretha Ruge

Birth: 01 May 1828 in Ruhwinkel, Plon, Schleswig-Holstein, Germany

Parents; Hans Joachim Friedrich and Ida Wilhelmina Sophia (Seligmann) Ruge

Death: 01 Nov 1860 in Ruhwinkel, Plon, Schleswig-Holstein, Germany

Marriage: 07 Aug 1853 in Ruhwinkel, Plon, Schleswig-Holstein, Germany

Children: 

Joachim Friedrich Sienknecht

Birth: 07 Mar 1854 in Ruhwinkel, Plon, Schleswig-Holstein, Germany

Anna Christina Sienknecht

Birth: 23 Aug 1855 in Ruhwinkel, Plon, Schleswig-Holstein, Germany

Dorothea Margaretha Sienknecht

Birth: 05 May 1857 in Ruhwinkel, Plon, Schleswig-Holstein, Germany

Johann Hinrich Sienknecht

Birth: 06 Nov 1858 in Ruhwinkel, Plon, Schleswig-Holstein, Germany

Heinrich Detlef Sienknecht*

Birth: 05 May 1860 in Ruhwinkel, Plon, Schleswig-Holstein, Germany

Incredible, right? So many questions were answered. Henry's mother died within six months of his birth. I always assumed his father died when he was young as well, as the biography of his brother states the children were taken in and raised by their mother's brother, Joachim Ruge. Yet, it's clear Christian Sienkencht lived another 40 years. Why didn't he keep his children? What contact did he have with them? By the time he died Henry was in the US with six children of his own. My great-grandmother, Lilly (Sienknecht) Staker, was 16. Did she know about her grandfather back in Germany? 

Anyway, back to Henry Staker...

I asked the researcher who did the Sienknecht research if she'd heard of Harmstedt. She had not. She told me to check with the researchers for Barmstedt, which I agreed did sound like Harmstedt. That researcher came up empty-handed. I asked her (kind of begged, really) for any advice or ideas on where to look next. Today, she came up with one: Armstedt. 

Armstedt is a municipality in Segeberg, Schleswig-Holstein. Before this morning I had not heard of it, but I can see how Armstedt could eventually become Harmstedt in the U.S. Often accounts of immigrant ancestor hometowns came from children and grandchildren, who heard the name, but didn't actually see it written down. 

This morning I emailed the researcher for the Armstedt region asking for assistance looking for Henry Staker. I am hopeful this time I may have found him. If this search turns up empty-handed I'm not sure where to look next.