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Tombstone Tuesday: Dorothy Trimmer Bryant

DorothyTrimmerBryantGraveDorothy Trimmer Bryant was born to parents Joseph Aaron and Florence Pauline (Schlosser) Trimmer on March 13, 1914 in Glen Rock, York County, Pennsylvania.  Her father’s occupation for several years was telephone operator and in 1930 the family was residing in Wrightville, York, Pennsylvania.

Sometime after the 1930 census the family relocated to Baltimore, Maryland since Dorothy appears in The Eastern Echo yearbook (Eastern High School, Baltimore) in 1932. Her senior class picture implies that she may have joined the class that school year.

The yearbook lists her address as 538 East 22nd Street (I have never heard of a yearbook listing a student’s home address!). Dorothy must have been athletically inclined because it states that “[S]he is going to teach gym in the not too distant future.” Whatever Dorothy decided to do after graduating from high school, however, is unclear since it was difficult to find records which provided residence and occupation data.

Her obituary states that she worked for the Glenn L. Martin Company, the forerunner of one of today’s prominent defense contractors, the Lockheed Martin Corporation. The company had been founded in California in 1912 and merged (briefly) with Wright Company (see my book review of Birdmen for more on the Wright brothers and their rivals) in 1916. The merger was unsuccessful and in 1917 and Glenn Martin founded another Glenn L. Martin Company, basing his operations in Cleveland, Ohio.

The company built bombers which flew in World War I and in 1929 the operations in Cleveland were closed and relocated to the Baltimore metropolitan area in Middle River, Maryland. The company, of course, played a significant role during World War II as the country rallied to mass produce military equipment, both for the United States and its allies. (Don’t miss this week’s Book Review Thursday: The Arsenal of Democracy)

The war in Europe was raging, and although the United States would not formally enter the conflict until December 11, 1941, in October of 1940 men between 21 and 35 began to receive draft notices. Congresswoman Edith Nourse Rogers of Massachusetts introduced a bill in May of 1941 which called for the creation of a volunteer women’s army corp. In May of 1942 a bill passed the House and Senate, creating the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps (WAAC).

The women who joined the WAAC were not technically in the military, rather they were civilians working with the Army. By the spring of 1943 sixty thousand women had already volunteered, and in July of that year a new congressional bill changed the name to Women’s Army Corps (WAC), making those who volunteered full-fledged members of the military. Whether Dorothy first joined the WAAC or WAC is unclear as her obituary (and her gravestone) merely indicates she was a member of the WAC.

The date she joined is unclear as well since her obituary merely states she served overseas for three years. Her rank was TEC4, or Technician Fourth Grade, which would have placed her in a pay grade similar to that of Sergeant, although not having authority to issue commands or orders.

She married Robert D. Bryant in Frankfurt, Germany on June 5, 1948. Robert, the son of Arthur and Hattie Bryant of Estacado, Texas, had joined the military in 1938. According to the Crosby County TXGenWeb Project, Robert was an engineer who built bridges, contributing significantly during the Battle of the Bulge.

Dorothy’s family had a history of military service dating back to the Revolutionary War. Her brother Joseph, the only surviving family member at the time of her death and mentioned in her obituary, filed an application for the Sons of the American Revolution in 1968. Their ancestor, John Trimmer, was born in 1750 and served in the Sixth Company of the Fifth Battalion of York County, Pennsylvania.

Whether the couple lived overseas until Robert was discharged in 1952 is unclear as no record of his discharge (and for that matter his enlistment) could be found at Fold3 or Ancestry.com. However, the couple did eventually return to live in the Lubbock or Crosby County area where Robert was a farmer. Neither of Robert or Dorothy’s obituaries mentions children so presumably they were childless.

Robert died on May 15, 1983 at Methodist Hospital in Lubbock following a lengthy illness. Dorothy continued to live in the area until she passed away at St. Mary’s Hospital in Lubbock on April 2, 1996. They are both buried in the Estacado Cemetery, having both served their country during World War II as signified by their gravestones.

I should note that today’s article was a bit challenging to research as there was more than one Dorothy Trimmer in York County, Pennsylvania and all were born approximately the same year apparently. I was, however, able to definitively trace parentage after reading her obituary and backtracking to search instead for information on her brother Joseph E. Trimmer.

Did you enjoy this article?  Yes? Check out Digging History Magazine.  Since January 2018 new articles are published in a digital magazine (PDF) available by individual issue purchase or subscription (with three options).  Most issues run between 70-85 pages, filled with articles of interest to history-lovers and genealogists — it’s all history, right? 🙂  No ads — just carefully-researched, well-written stories, complete with footnotes and sources.

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Mothers of Invention: Bette Nesmith Graham

MothersOfInventionAs the saying goes, “necessity is the mother of invention.”  In the late 1940’s single mother Bette Nesmith was an executive secretary at Texas Bank and Trust in Dallas.  To cover up her typing mistakes she mixed a batch of tempera water-based paint to match the company’s stationery.  She used a thin paint brush to “paint over” her mistakes and her boss couldn’t tell the difference.

BetteNesmithGrahamBette Claire McMurray was born on March 23, 1924 in Dallas, Texas to parents Jesse and Christine (Duval) McMurray.  Raised in San Antonio, she married Warren Audrey Nesmith before he departed to serve during World War II.  Their son, Robert Michael Nesmith, was born on December 30, 1942.  Folks of a certain age will remember him as a member of The Monkees and cast member of a television show of the same name.

Warren returned from the war, although he and Bette divorced in 1946. After Bette’s father died and left her some property in Dallas, she returned there and found work as a secretary. IBM electronic typewriters were in usage, but if one small error occurred the entire page had to be retyped – what a waste of time!

She was an amateur artist and while working on a freelance project it occurred to Bette that painters didn’t have to start over when they made a mistake – they simply painted over it. Thus, the idea to mix her own batch of tempera water-based paint. For a time she kept the invention to herself, but other secretaries eventually heard of it, so she began bottling it with the name “Mistake Out”, selling her first bottles in 1956.

She continued to work on Mistake Out at home with the help of her son and a team she recruited to improve the product. By 1957 Bette was selling about one hundred bottles per month. According to Women Invent!: Two Centuries of Discoveries That Have Shaped Our World, she did not patent her invention (although some sources claim she did). Rather she trademarked the name “Liquid Paper”. An article in a stationery magazine highlighting her invention pushed sales higher.

According to the Liquid Paper corporate web site, Bette was fired from the bank in 1958. The timing couldn’t have been better because the product had been perfected by then and sales were substantial enough that she could afford to devote her time to the business of selling Liquid Paper, albeit working out of her home instead of an office. Part-time employees were hired and by 1961 she hired her first full-time employee.

In 1962 Bette married Robert Graham and he helped to run the company. The couple later divorced in 1975. By 1967 the company had its own corporate headquarters and production facilities. Sales were soaring in excess of one million units per year in 1975, prompting another move to an even larger facility – thirty-five thousand square feet – in Dallas. The new headquarters included a library and childcare center.

In 1979 Bette sold Liquid Paper to the Gillette Corporation for $47.5 million. At that time the company employed two hundred people who produced twenty-five million bottles of Liquid Paper per year. Unfortunately, Bette Nesmith Graham passed away the following year on May 12, 1980 at the age of fifty-six. Her son Michael inherited half of her sizable estate.

The product continued to sell well for Gillette, which later added correction pens and tape to the product line. In 2000 the Liquid Paper brand was acquired by Newell Rubbermaid and new products continue to be introduced. All in all, an amazing success story of a single mother with only a high school education who went on to become a multi-millionaire – and we think to ourselves, “Why didn’t I think of that!?!”

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Surname Saturday: Wingo

I ran across this surname while walking through a prairie cemetery in Lubbock County, Texas:

EllisWingoGraveMy curiosity was piqued to find out its origins.

As always there will be more than one opinion as to a surname’s origin – here are three theories:

One source believes that the name was locational in Berkshire.  Possible spelling variations were Wingrove, Winger, Wingrave and Winge.  An early instance of the name “Witungraue” (no surname) was recorded in the 1086 Domesday Book, which would have derived from an Olde English word – wioig (a willow) and graf (a grove).

Another source purports that the name was a variation of the following names: Winpenny, Wimpenny, Wimpory, Wimpery, Wimpeny, Wynngold and more. Yet another source, The Dictionary of American Names, indicates that the name is likely an Anglicized version of the French Huguenot name “Vigneau.” Their evidence for believing the surname is of French origin:

A habitational name for someone from a place so named in Vienne, or from places in Aube and Indre called Les Vigneaux, or

A status name for the owner of a vineyard, from a derivative of Occitan vinhier “vineyard”. This is found as a Huguenot name.

The latter explanation actually seems more plausible after finding evidence offered by family historians who have found records of the Wingo surname appearing in or near Manakin, a Huguenot settlement in Virginia. According to The Huguenot Society of the Founders of Manakin in the Colony of Virginia web site, French Huguenots began arriving in Virginia as early as 1620. Like many early settlers, the Huguenots were fleeing religious persecution.

A quick check of census records for Ellis Wingo reveals that his grandparents were born in South Carolina. In 1679, King Charles II sent two shiploads of French Huguenots to South Carolina for the purpose of cultivating grapes, olives and silkworms. One family history researcher found evidence in a book called Irish Pedigrees or the Origin and Stem of the Irish Nation which lists the names of refugees who settled in Britain and Ireland during Louis XIV’s reign. Louis XIV’s persecution of Huguenots began in 1685 but the name Vigneau had already been found in England long before that. One name listed was “De Vinegoy”.

So it’s possible that Ellis Wingo’s ancestors may have been French Huguenots. This is what I love about history – just one glimpse of an unusual surname on a grave stone and a little research – a little “diggin’ history”. I don’t think I’ll ever run out of material! Look for more articles later from my visit to historic Estacado Cemetery.

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Feisty Females (and Fellows): Ellen and William Craft

EllenCraftIn December of 1848 a man and woman, both born into slavery, devised a scheme – a ruse – which would lead them to freedom.  Their reason for embarking on such a daring adventure was later eloquently stated in the opening lines of their memoir, Running A Thousand Miles:

Having heard while in Slavery that “God made of one blood all nations of men,” and also that the American Declaration of Independence says, that “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these, are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness;” we could not understand by what right we were held as “chattels.”  Therefore, we felt perfectly justified in undertaking the dangerous and exciting task of “running a thousand miles” in order to obtain those rights which are so vividly set forth in the Declaration.

Ellen Craft, the light-skinned daughter of Maria and her white master, Colonel James Smith – and the half-sister of Smith’s other children – was born in Georgia in 1826.  Often mistaken for one of Smith’s white children, and said to have been a great annoyance to the colonel’s wife, eleven year-old Ellen was given to her half-sister as a wedding present in 1837.

William Craft was put up for auction at the age of sixteen to settle his master’s debts and purchased by a bank cashier. William, a skilled carpenter, continued to work for a cabinet maker but following the auction his new owner took most of his wages. His parents and brother had been sold, locations unknown, and just before William had been sold he witnessed the sale of his tearful fourteen-year old sister.

William and Ellen met, fell in love and were married in 1846, although not allowed to live together because they served different masters. The separation was difficult but William and Ellen knew if children were born to their marriage they would likely be taken away from them. The thought, William wrote, “filled my wife with horror.”

Admittedly, William and Ellen’s situation wasn’t as bad as some who were enslaved in the South. Rather, it was the thought that as chattels they were deprived of their legal rights, giving their wages to “a tyrant, to enable him to live in idleness and luxury – the thought that we could not call the bones and sinews that God gave us our own; but above all, the fact that another man had the power to tear from our cradle the new-born babe and sell it in the shambles like a brute, and then scourge us if we dared to lift a finger to save it from such a fate, haunted us for years.” (Running a Thousand Miles, p. 2)

Clearly, they believed something better awaited them in the North if they could devise a successful escape from Georgia. From his work as a carpenter, William was able to save some of the wages, small though they may have been. By December of 1848 they began to seriously discuss various plans. Using the premise that slaveholders were allowed to take their slaves to other states, whether those states were slave or free, led to a carefully-crafted ruse.

Because Ellen was so fair-skinned the plan was to disguise her as a young white man since it would have been unusual for a young woman to travel with a male slave and certainly would have drawn unwanted attention. Ellen’s first reaction was one of panic, although as they talked she eventually warmed to the idea. Their plan was to ask for passes at Christmastime, something that slaveholders often granted to favored slaves.

On December 21, William cut Ellen’s long hair to neck-length. In order to disguise the lack of a beard her face was bandaged, and to disguise the fact she couldn’t read or write, her arm was placed in a sling since she (“he”) would have been asked to sign a hotel register. The bandage around her face would perhaps discourage strangers from wanting to converse. Ellen made a pair of men’s trousers, donned a top hat and chose a pair of green spectacles to further disguise herself. The hat and glasses had to be purchased so the disguise alone, save the trousers she sewed, was risky since it was forbidden for slaves to trade without their master’s consent.

Before leaving for the Macon train station the couple peeped out the window of the cottage to make sure no one was observing their movements. William whispered to his wife, “Come my dear, let us make a desperate leap for liberty!” Ellen, still in a panic, shrank back and began to sob. William assured her the plan was the only way to gain their freedom, and after a few encouraging words and a silent prayer she was able to continue.

After stepping out they shook hands and headed in different directions to the rail station. From that point on William would refer to Ellen as his master – even in his memoir William referred to Ellen as a “he.” Ellen purchased their tickets to Savannah and boarded the train. William had already hopped aboard the negro car and while waiting for the train to depart noticed his employer standing on the platform.

Of course, William feared the worst and expected at any moment to be caught. The cabinet maker looked around in Ellen’s car and headed to the negro car, but just in the nick of time the train departed and the Crafts were on their way. William later learned that his employer had heard a rumor about their planned escape, but by the time the rumor was confirmed the Crafts were safe in a northern free state.

Ellen had her own moment of panic while observing the other passengers in her car. She noticed a good friend of her master sitting nearby – he had known Ellen since her childhood! Like William, she assumed that he was there to capture her, but when Mr. Cray tried to start a conversation, Ellen looked away and feigned deafness. Cray got the hint and began conversing with others nearby – in the words of William Craft he began discussing “Niggers, Cotton, and the Abolitionists.” I’m sure Ellen breathed a sigh of relief when he exited the train at Gordon.

After the train arrived in Savannah the next step was to board a steamer bound for Charleston, South Carolina. Again, Ellen, posing as an ailing white gentleman, was able to easily board while William was consigned to walk about the deck and then rest on a pile of cotton bags until morning. Because his master was “invalid” William was allowed to accompany him to breakfast and help attend to him.

Lo and behold, Ellen was seated at the captain’s table and he (the captain) warned that Ellen should watch William like a hawk as he might get other ideas when they reached the North. A crude man, a slave dealer, interrupted and provided his own opinions: “I would not take a nigger to the North under no consideration. I have had to deal to do with niggers in my time, but I never saw one who ever had his heel upon free soil that was worth a damn.” Imagine the restraint it must have taken Ellen and William to resist responding to such crude sentiments! Instead, Ellen thanked the captain for his advice and walked out on deck to await the ship’s arrival in Charleston.

After arriving in Charleston the plan had been to continue on to Philadelphia by steamer, but they soon found there were no vessels traveling that route in the winter. Instead they took a steamer to Wilmington, North Carolina and then continued on to Richmond, Virginia via train. By Christmas Eve they had reached Baltimore, the last significant slave port before reaching a free state. Knowing that citizens and law enforcement were especially watchful of slaves attempting to reach Pennsylvania, William and Ellen were extra vigilant.

Their plans to board a train and head to Pennsylvania were almost thwarted when a railroad officer informed them that William had no right to accompany his master – another panicky moment. He thought to himself “that the good God, who had been with us thus far, would not forsake us at the eleventh hour.” After explaining the situation to Ellen they proceeded to the rail office to obtain permission to continue on together in their travels. “But, as God was our present and mighty helper in this as well as in all former trials, we were able to keep our heads up and press forwards.”

Ellen stated their case and convinced the officer that because of her injured arm she was unable to sign any documents (remember, in fact, she could neither read nor write) and after some deliberation the couple was allowed to board the train and continue their flight to freedom. Since leaving Macon three nights before the Crafts had very little opportunities for sleep, so William thought he would take a nap. However, he slept too soundly and when the train made a stop Ellen wondered where he was – quite naturally her first thought was that William had been captured and their plan had fallen apart. He was later found by a guard and hurried to assure his master that all was well.

The completion of their journey was at hand, William rejoicing and thanking God for protection and mercy. Upon arrival in Philadelphia he hurried to retrieve his master, or rather his wife, as he could now refer to her. After boarding a cab, she turned to William and exclaimed, “Thank God, William, we are safe!” – and promptly burst into tears. It was Christmas Day.

They were able to quickly connect with the underground abolitionist network in Philadelphia. Their first host was Barkley Ivens, a Quaker, and his family. Although somewhat nervous following their harrowing escape, the Crafts agreed to accept Ivens’ hospitality. Ellen’s fears were immediately allayed when she walked into the Ivens home and Mrs. Ivens assured her, “Ellen, I shall not hurt a single hair of thy head. We have heard with much pleasure of the marvelous escape of thee and thy husband, and deeply sympathise with thee in all that thou hast undergone. I don’t wonder at thee, poor thing, being timid; but thou needs not fear us; we would as soon send one of our own daughters into slavery as thee; so thou mayest make thyself quite at ease!”

After a sumptuous supper, the Ivens inquired as to whether Ellen and William could read. Upon finding they were illiterate, the Ivens family offered to teach them to read and write – now! The table was cleared and out came the spelling and copy books, pencils and slates. Both Ellen and William had a rudimentary knowledge of the alphabet but not the ability to write the characters. Even though they wondered whether at their advanced age they could learn, the Ivens family was insistent that they continue. After three weeks, Ellen and William were able to spell and write their names quite well.

Their plan was to continue on to Boston, but their parting with the Ivens family was bittersweet, having found friends who in a short time became like family to them. After settling in Boston, the Crafts found work, he as a cabinet maker and she as a seamstress. All was well until 1850 when the Fugitive Slave Bill was passed by Congress.

The new law mandated that persons in free states could no longer provide aid and comfort to fleeing slaves. Instead they would be compelled to report them so they could be returned to their masters. The Crafts’ former masters sent agents to find them, took out warrants and placed them in the hands of the United States Marshal. However, the Reverend Samuel May, a Boston minister, intervened with a letter outlining Ellen and William’s plight, including their daring escape two years earlier.

Still, their masters pressed for the Crafts’ return. After much deliberation, William and Ellen Craft decided to flee their country and migrate to Britain – slavery had been abolished there in 1833. Not until they reached Britain’s shores did they feel “free from every slavish fear.” They were aided by abolitionists who arranged for them to receive an education in Surrey. In 1852 Ellen, having learned to read and write quite well, published a pamphlet which was circulated widely in both Britain and the United States:

So I write these few lines merely to say that the statement is entirely unfounded, for I have never had the slightest inclination whatever of returning to bondage; and God forbid that I should ever be so false to liberty as to prefer slavery in its stead. In fact, since my escape from slavery, I have gotten much better in every respect than I could have possibly anticipated. Though, had it been to the contrary, my feelings in regard to this would have been just the same, for I had much rather starve in England, a free woman, than be a slave for the best man that ever breathed upon the American continent.

Ellen and William Craft had five children and remained in England for almost two decades before making the decision, despite what she wrote in 1852, to return to their homeland following the Civil War’s conclusion. Two of their children remained in England. In 1870 they purchased eighteen hundred acres of land near Savannah and founded the Woodville Cooperative Farm School in 1873. Ku Klux Klan members had burned their first plantation in South Carolina, and following white opposition in Georgia, resulting in bankruptcy, the school was closed in 1878.

The Crafts moved to Charleston in 1890 to live with their daughter Ellen. Ellen Craft passed away in 1891 and William in 1900. She had overcome so much in her life and in 1996 Ellen Smith Craft was named as a Georgia Woman of Achievement. If you would like to read more about Ellen and William Craft, you will find a free on-line version here – just 111 pages and an enlightening read.

Did you enjoy this article?  Yes? Check out Digging History Magazine.  Since January 2018 new articles are published in a digital magazine (PDF) available by individual issue purchase or subscription (with three options).  Most issues run between 70-85 pages, filled with articles of interest to history-lovers and genealogists — it’s all history, right? 🙂  No ads — just carefully-researched, well-written stories, complete with footnotes and sources.

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Wild West Wednesday: Vigilante X

JohnXBeidler_smHistorical accounts vary as to whether today’s Wild West character came by his name via the middle name of “Xavier” or it was a family nickname, or he just adopted “X” as his name after becoming a well-known member of the Montana Vigilantes.  Following the big 1863 gold strike in Alder Gulch, waves of miners flooded the region and settled along an area known as the “Fourteen Mile City” – see last week’s Ghost Town article here for more background.

The man who became known as “Vigilante X”, John Beidler, was born on August 14, 1831 in Pennsylvania to parents John and Anna Hoke Beidler.  His father died in 1849 and his mother around 1850 before the census enumeration in August of that year.  That year John was eighteen and his occupation was that of shoemaker.

John was a supporter of abolitionist John Brown and sometime in the 1850’s he made his way to Kansas to try his hand at farming. That means he would have been on hand during the period known as “Bloody Kansas”. Following Brown’s death by hanging for his part in the raid on Harper’s Ferry, John left Kansas for Texas.

From Texas he moved on to Colorado, and then news of gold strikes in what would soon be Montana Territory compelled John northward in 1863. According to the Society of Montana Pioneers, John arrived in Virginia City on June 10, just days after the discovery made by a group of miners. As was the case all over the West during that era, very little formal law enforcement existed in the boom towns which sprung up, and Virginia City was no exception.

Minor legal matters were handled by informal miner’s court proceedings, but for major crimes such as looting, robbery and murder there was no official law enforcement. One gang was led by Henry Plummer, who although a lawbreaker, somehow convinced the town of Bannack to elect him sheriff – History.com refers to him as a “charming psychopath.”

In defiance of the lawlessness, a secret vigilance committee was formed with concerned citizens of Virginia City and Bannack. After joining the Vigilantes, Beidler became one of its most active members and in December of 1863, along with twenty-four men, swore a secret oath. Their mission was to hunt down, capture and hang as many of the criminals, Plummer included.

The Vigilantes thought the only way to restore law and order was to completely rid the area of Plummer and his gang. In January and February of 1864 twenty-one men were captured and hanged – no trials, no appeals and no time to put one’s affairs in order.

Prior to the formation of the vigilance committee, one man, George Ives, did receive a jury trial after he was accused of murdering Nicholas Tbalt, a young man whose parents had been killed by Indians. During the trial Beidler stood guard over the proceedings. After Ives was convicted following a three-day trial, he pleaded for a stay of execution. From the rooftop above the proceedings, Beidler shouted out to the prosecutor, “Ask him how much time he gave the Dutchman!” George Ives was hanged that evening.

As more or less the face of the Vigilantes, Beidler or “Vigilante X” as he liked to be called, was accused of stepping over the line. Some lauded him as being trustworthy and fearless – others believed he was nothing more than a “pint-size bully” and braggart. As Jon Axline points out in his book Still Speaking Ill of the Dead: More Jerks in Montana History, he was a complex personality and all of those things, positive or negative, could be said of him.

Another description of him from Frederick Allen’s book A Decent, Orderly Lynching: The Montana Vigilantes: “John Xavier Beidler, known to one and all by his middle initial, “X,” was an energetic little plug of a man, shorter than his rifle at five-foot-three.” In his own words, Beidler described his penchant for impatience regarding delays, saying it would make him become “boiling, you bet, and indignant into the bargain.” He often dressed in clothes too big for his “squatty-body” and Axline points out that he had the “less savory” trait of taking items, including clothing, from corpses for his own use.

Later in 1864, Beidler was appointed as a deputy U.S. marshal but continued his vigilante activities which led many to accuse him of overstepping the bounds of established law and justice. While serving as a law enforcement official he simultaneously helped to organize a vigilance committee in Helena. By 1867 he found plenty of work in Helena which was infested with a criminal element – practically every day there were reports of robberies and murders.

In 1870 his penchant for crossing the line almost resulted in his being arrested for murder. In January a Chinese miner by the name of Ah Chow had killed a man in Helena. When Beidler captured the Chinaman, he returned his prisoner to Helena and turned him over to the vigilantes who promptly hanged him. Beidler applied for Chow’s bounty, which raised the ire of the local paper’s editor:

We could not believe that any mere private citizens would engage in so lawless a proceeding and then have the temerity to acknowledge his guilt by applying for and receiving the reward.

Beidler claimed that he was thereafter threatened, allegedly receiving a note warning him, “We . . . will give you no more time to prepare for death than the many men you have murdered . . . . We shall live to see you buried beside the poor Chinaman you murdered.”

John Beidler continued to served as deputy U.S. marshal until the late 1880s. In 1888 his health began to fail, and being destitute, relied on the charity of friends. On January 22, 1890 he died at the Pacific Hotel in Helena from complications of pneumonia. Hundreds of friends and associates attended his funeral, paid for by contributions. The Great Falls Weekly Tribune summed up his life: “He dies poor, having served his territory much better than he served himself. Peace to his ashes.”

In 1903 his body was exhumed by the Montana Society of Pioneers and moved to Forestvale Cemetery. A “great rough boulder, emblematic of his rugged character” was later erected over his grave and inscribed with a plaque:

Even though he was known for his “extra-legal” vigilante activities, apparently the historical society and the annals of Montana history have chosen to honor him regardless. He was definitely one-of-a-kind.

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Tombstone Tuesday: Thomas Jefferson Roach and His Sister Wives

TJRoachGraveDon’t let the title fool you.  I don’t mean to imply that “Sister Wives” (as in the TLC reality show of the same name) means that the subject of today’s article, Thomas Jefferson Roach, was a polygamist.  Quite the contrary, since according to family history Thomas was of the Baptist faith.

This article has been removed from the free side of the site.  It has been significantly updated with new research and featured in the March-April 2019 issue of Digging History Magazine.  Purchase the issue here or contact me to purchase a copy of the article only.

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Mothers of Invention: Stephanie Kwolek

StephanieKwolek_2  If you’re in law enforcement or serve your country in the military, you have today’s “mother of invention” to thank for helping protect you when bullets are flying.

Stephanie Louise Kwolek was born on July 31, 1923 in New Kensington, Pennsylvania to parents John and Nellie Kwolek.  As a young girl, while watching her mother sew she became interested in fashion, drawing and designing patterns for doll clothes and later sewing her own clothes – at one point Stephanie thought she might pursue a career in fashion design.  Her father, a foundry worker, died when she was ten years old, but during her early years he encouraged her to also explore nature.

She and her father would spend hours in the woods looking for plants, animals and insects. By her own account, like her father, she had a keen sense of curiosity and read more than most children her age. She would later remark that those characteristics set her apart from her peers and served her well later in her career.

After graduating from high school, Stephanie enrolled in the Carnegie Institute of Technology (now Carnegie Mellon University) in 1942 majoring in chemistry. She had considered various career paths before embarking on her education, including fashion design, teaching or pursuing a medical degree. At Carnegie, she was mentored by one of her chemistry professors, Dr. Clara Miller.

In 1946 Stephanie graduated from the Margaret Morrison Carnegie College with a bachelor’s degree in chemistry. She thought she might take a job, save her money and later continue her education in medicine. At that time women were being offered jobs in the chemistry field, especially right after World War II when men were still serving or coming home from the war. Some women with advanced degrees, however, would remain in those jobs only a short time before taking jobs in academia.

Stephanie, interested in research, decided to take a different path, deciding that DuPont would offer her the best chance at pursuing her passion. She joined a team of chemists called the Pioneering Research Laboratory who had just a few years before discovered nylon, the first synthetic fiber.

Although Stephanie still thought she might attend medical school, she found the research work so interesting that she decided to forego that ambition and remain with DuPont. The opportunity to discover new things was extremely satisfying to her. She later remarked that her male supervisors were very much interested in their own work and mostly left her alone to conduct experiments and make her own discoveries – a perfect combination for someone who was already has a keen sense of both curiosity and creativity.

In 1965, due to the possibility of gasoline shortages, a need arose to replace the steel wires in automobile tires with a new synthetic fiber. Her assignment was to find a super-stiff, lightweight fiber and she began to experiment on a group of long-chain molecules called aromatic polyimides. She discovered that, under the right conditions, these polyimides would form liquid crystals – the solution was usually thick but this one was more fluid. One of her colleagues believed the fluidity was due to contamination and refused to spin it for her because it might clog his equipment.

After she eventually convinced him to spin it, both were pleasantly surprised to find it resulted in the stiffest and strongest fiber anyone had ever seen. Stephanie immediately realized she had just made a very important discovery – an “aha moment.” First called “Fibre B” it later became known as Kevlar when DuPont patented it in 1971.

DuPont found numerous ways to use the new synthetic fiber – fiber optics, reinforcing roads, tires, bicycles and hiking boots to space equipment and more. The idea to use the fiber, in multiple layers, for army helmets and bullet-proof vests came later, and as they say “the rest is history.” In 1987 the DuPont Kevlar Survivors Club was founded by law enforcement officers who owed their lives to the bullet-proof vest.

Between 1961 and 1986 Stephanie Kwolek was awarded seventeen patents, although after signing over royalties to DuPont she never earned any money from her invention. Another interesting fact about this amazing woman was that she never pursued any higher degree than the original bachelor’s degree she received in chemistry in 1946.

Stephanie never married and retired in 1986. After retirement she tutored high school students in chemistry, especially encouraging young women to pursue careers in the field. In 1995 she was inducted into the National Inventors Hall of Fame, one of only four women to ever receive that honor. She was inducted into the National Women’s Hall of Fame in 2003 and the Plastics Hall of Fame in 2004.

Stephanie Louise Kwolek died recently in Delaware on June 18, 2014 at the age of ninety.

Did you enjoy this article?  Yes? Check out Digging History Magazine.  Since January 2018 new articles are published in a digital magazine (PDF) available by individual issue purchase or subscription (with three options).  Most issues run between 70-85 pages, filled with articles of interest to history-lovers and genealogists — it’s all history, right? 🙂  No ads — just carefully-researched, well-written stories, complete with footnotes and sources.

Want to know more or try out a free issue? You can download either (or both) of the January-February 2019 and March-April 2019 issues here:  https://digging-history.com/free-samples/

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Surname Saturday: Roach

Today’s surname originated in France, derived from the French word “roche” which means rocky crag or someone who lived near a rocky crag.  After the Norman invasion in the late eleventh century, the name became more prevalent throughout both England and Ireland, but also could be found variously in Italy as “Rocca” or “Roca” and in the Netherlands or Belgium as “De Reorck.”

There are more than thirty spelling variations for this surname in addition to those listed above, including: Roche, Roache, LaRoche, LaRoach, DeLaRoach, Roche and many more. There is a suburb in Cork County, Ireland named Rochestown and there was once an influential Roche family in the same county. In England early records listed Ralph de la Roche of Cornwall in 1195 and Lucas de Roches of Hampshire in 1249.

No doubt early Irish immigration and certainly the Irish Potato Famine of the 1840’s brought some of the Roach family to America’s shores. Depending on how old you are, you may or may not recognize the name of Harold Eugene Roach, grandson of Irish immigrants. His story follows.

Harold Eugene Roach

Harold Eugene “Hal” Roach was the grandson of Irish immigrants, born on January 14, 1892 in Elmira, New York to parents Charles and Mabel Roach. As a child he was a prankster whose antics got him expelled from both a Catholic and public school. At the age of sixteen his father thought a little traveling would help young Hal grow up.

Hal made his way west and worked in Seattle for a time selling ice cream from a horse-drawn wagon. His travels next took him to Alaska where he worked as a postman and unsuccessfully as a gold miner. After drifting back down to California, where he worked for a time in oil field construction, he landed a job in Hollywood as a cowboy extra in 1912.

His penchant for pranks and gags may have begun to serve him well because he soon worked his way from extra to minor actor to cameraman and then on to writing and assistant director. After just two years in the “business” Hal Roach rose to become a director and producer, especially in the genre of comedy.

For the next ten years he worked with comedy legend Harold Lloyd, a contemporary of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton who was featured first in silent films and later “talkies” which featured daredevil-like feats and chase scenes. Hal Roach helped shape Lloyd’s career into one which set him apart from Chaplin and Keaton.

He also had a hand in shaping the career of Will Rogers and the comedy team of Laurel and Hardy. In 1922, the Our Gang comedies began to be produced after, according to the New York Times, “sighting a group of frisky youngsters playing and quarreling in a lumber yard. Their spontaneous antics intrigued him as heady relief from the rouged mini-adults that stage mothers constantly shepherded into his office.”

The production of Our Gang comedies was scheduled around the lives of the children. As children “outgrew” the roles others were brought in to replace them. Some notable actors who appeared over the years were Jackie Cooper, Dickie Moore and Nanette Fabray.

After producing the series for sixteen years, Hal sold it to MGM which continued to produce it for another six years. The Little Rascals would become one of the most popular and beloved children’s television shows, still a source today of good, clean and nostalgic fun. Broadening the scope of his business beyond comedy, he began to produce dramas, westerns and action movies as well in the 1930’s. During World War II he produced both morale and propaganda films, working with actors Ronald Reagan and Alan Ladd.

Hal married Marguerite Nichols, an actress, and together they had two children: Hal, Jr. and Margaret. They were married twenty-six years before Marguerite passed away in 1940. In 1942 he married a secretary by the name of Lucille Prin with whom he had four more children: Elizabeth, Maria, Jeanne and Kathleen. Lucille died in 1981 and his children Hal, Jr., Elizabeth and Margaret also preceded him in death.

Harold Eugene “Hal” Roach, legendary director and producer, lived to be over one hundred years old, passing away on November 2, 1992 in Los Angeles and was buried in his hometown of Elmira, New York. During his storied career he ran the Hal Roach Studios in Culver City, California, won three Academy Awards and helped shape the careers of actors and directors such as Jean Harlow, Janet Gaynor, Mickey Rooney, Frank Capra and more. Most of all he gave the world the gift of laughter.

Did you enjoy this article?  Yes? Check out Digging History Magazine.  Since January 2018 new articles are published in a digital magazine (PDF) available by individual issue purchase or subscription (with three options).  Most issues run between 70-85 pages, filled with articles of interest to history-lovers and genealogists — it’s all history, right? 🙂  No ads — just carefully-researched, well-written stories, complete with footnotes and sources.

Want to know more or try out a free issue? You can download either (or both) of the January-February 2019 and March-April 2019 issues here:  https://digging-history.com/free-samples/

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Feisty Females: Alta Weiss (In a League All Her Own)

AltaWeissWhen she was scarcely one year old, her father claimed his daughter could throw a corn cob at a cat with the skill and precision of any pitcher in the big leagues.  Alta Weiss was born on February 9, 1890 in Berlin, Ohio to parents George and Lucinda Weiss and at the age of five she and her parents moved to Ragersville, Ohio where she came to be known as the town’s most famous resident.

At an early age her father encouraged her to keep playing, and by the time she was a teenager George had established a high school so that his “ace” daughter could play on the baseball team. He also built the Weiss Baseball Park in Ragersville. In 1907, while the family was vacationing in Vermilion, Ohio, she encountered some boys and offered to play catch with them. Little did they know what they would be witnessing – word of her skills as a pitcher spread.

According to the Baseball of Fame, after Alta struck out fifteen men the manager of Vermilion’s semi-pro team, the Independents, offered her a contract – she was seventeen years old. Each weekend she traveled to Vermilion from her home in Ragersville (127 miles) to pitch for the Independents. As one might imagine, she caused quite a stir and fans flocked to see her play. She was dubbed a “Girl Wonder.”

The Sandusky Star-Journal reported on September 18, 1907:

Miss Weiss is no masculine girl, no tomboy, although her youth might excuse that, especially in consideration of the adulation she has received at the hands of the Vermilion fans, who this summer have gone wild over her work. She is no Amazon. She is merely the daughter of Dr. Augustus [George] Weiss, of Ragersville, Tuscarawas county, O., where she has played baseball with her father and the “kids” ever since she was old enough to sit up and take notice.

She wore a blue serge skirt with a sailor blouse, a baseball cap, heavy black cotton stockings and rubber shoes. “She wears no corset. She said so.” The newspaper story noted that she didn’t throw like a girl, nor did she flinch when balls came her way. “She threw the ball as straight as an arrow and as fast, and when the catcher threw it back to her it was no girly-girly toss ball, but a hot liner which she caught.” She had never played ball with girls.

Not only was she a “ace pitcher” she was pretty good at bat too. Folks seemed to be in awe of the fact that she was still quite feminine in appearance and manner. “The only womanliness which she may have lost was in her corset. She advises that no one attempt to wear corsets and play baseball.” Indeed! This was reported on September 18, 1907.

A week later the Sandusky Star-Journal was reporting that Alta would now suit up as a “real sure-enough ball player, clothes and all.” The day before Alta had ordered a baseball shirt, stockings, sweater, cap and spiked shoes. To complete the outfit she would wear bloomers and a short skirt, all made-to-order just for her. Her presence on the field continued to stir interest and by early October of 1907 the Humane Society was called upon to investigate whether she was of legal age (eighteen years old). Apparently nothing came of it because she continued to pitch and make headlines around the country.

Dr. Weiss was his daughter’s biggest fan and when the 1907 season ended he built Alta a gymnasium where she could train during the winter, aiming to be in the “best trim” possible when the season opened the following spring. Her goals for the next season included earning enough money to buy her own car. Her father saw her great potential, however, and decided to purchase a half-interest in the Vermilion Independents, whereupon he changed the name to the “Weiss All-Stars.”

Alta, of course, was the star of the team and she was outfitted with a black uniform to set her apart from the white uniforms of her male team members. The team toured throughout Ohio, Kentucky, Indiana and Michigan, drawing large crowds wherever they went. It was customary for Alta to pitch five innings before taking a position at first base. This was occurring in the spring of 1908 while she was finishing her final year of high school. She was scheduled to graduate on June 6 but also scheduled to pitch in Dayton on June 7. The commencement date was moved up to May 21 to accommodate.

After the 1908 season Alta had earned enough money for college and enrolled in Wooster Academy. Her goal was to eventually become a doctor like her father and two years later she entered Starling College of Medicine. She still toured, however, and continued to earn money to put herself through school.

In 1914 Alta Weiss was the only female graduate of the Starling College of Medicine and played ball until her last game in 1922. In 1927 she married Johnny Hisrich of Ragersville. They lived in Norwalk, Ohio where she practiced medicine and he had an automotive garage. However, after twelve years of marriage the couple separated in 1939.

After her father died in 1946, Alta moved back to Ragersville to take over his practice. She retired after just a few years and was said to have become somewhat of a recluse – some say she spent her days sitting on her porch reading newspapers and watching the town kids play baseball.

Even after her retirement from baseball, newspaper articles would mention her name for years to come. Alta Weiss died on February 12, 1964, just three days following her seventy-fourth birthday. Her uniform was later sent to Cooperstown for a women’s baseball exhibit which opened in 2005.

Did you enjoy this article?  Yes? Check out Digging History Magazine.  Since January 2018 new articles are published in a digital magazine (PDF) available by individual issue purchase or subscription (with three options).  Most issues run between 70-85 pages, filled with articles of interest to history-lovers and genealogists — it’s all history, right? 🙂  No ads — just carefully-researched, well-written stories, complete with footnotes and sources.

Want to know more or try out a free issue? You can download either (or both) of the January-February 2019 and March-April 2019 issues here:  https://digging-history.com/free-samples/

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Ghost Town Wednesday: Fourteen-Mile City

GhostTownWednesday  On May 26, 1863 a group of men (Barney Hughes, Thomas Cover, Henry Rodgers, Henry Edgar, William Fairweather, Bill Sweeney and others) were on their way back to Bannack, Montana, scene of a gold discovery the year before.  After being diverted from their route by a band of Crow Indians, the men camped at Elk Park.

While the others were away from the camp, Edgar and Fairweather discovered gold.  According to legend, they had spotted a piece of bedrock and hoped to find enough gold to purchase some tobacco in Bannack.  What they actually found turned out to be one of the richest deposits of gold ever found in the United States.

Although the men tried to keep their discovery a secret, upon returning to Bannack word spread of a new gold strike. Fairweather led a group out of Bannack and about halfway to Alder Gulch they formed the Fairweather Mining District. The original discoverers would have first pick of the claims.

After the first wave of miners arrived in the gulch on June 6, it took only three months for the population to burgeon to over ten thousand. The mining towns that sprung up along the gulch were known as the “Fourteen- Mile City”: Junction City, Adobe Town, Nevada City, Central City, Virginia City, Bear Town, Highland, Pine Grove French Town, Hungry Hollow and Summit.

Virginia City had originally been called Verona and later proposed to be Verina in honor of Jefferson Davis’ wife. This was happening, of course, in the middle of the Civil War. Apparently thinking it either objectionable or imprudent to take sides, the name became “Virginia City” instead.

Virginia City quickly became one of the most prominent cities in Montana Territory – the first territorial capital and home of the first Montana newspaper, the Montana Post, and the first Montana public school. Just a mile and-a-half west was Nevada City – both towns were the sites of some wild and woolly events and the rise of a group known as the “Vigilantes of Montana” – more about that in next week’s “Wild West Wednesday” article.

Interestingly, the Montana Post reported in December of 1864 that three sisters by the last name of Canary (ages twelve, ten and one) were wandering the streets of Virginia City as beggars while their father gambled. Could this have been Martha Canary, a.k.a. Calamity Jane, who was born in 1852?

Neighboring Nevada City sprang up quickly as well, adding dozens of businesses – a dry goods store, dance halls, saloons and many more. Today the town, although mostly abandoned, is preserved in a unique way. Fourteen original buildings remain, but residents in the 1940’s and 1950’s replaced some of the dilapidated or destroyed sites with other buildings moved from other historic locations. Today the site is owned by the Montana Heritage Commission – sounds like it would be a great place to visit.

The primary method of gold extraction was placer mining, defined by Merriam-Webster as “the process of extracting minerals from a placer especially by washing, dredging, or hydraulic mining” and also known as free gold prospecting (dust, flakes and nuggets of gold). Between 1863 and 1866 it is estimated that thirty million dollars worth of gold was extracted in the gulch.

One source indicates that between 1863 and 1889 the United States Assay Office reported at least ninety million dollars in gold (which would be forty BILLION in today’s dollars). This despite the fact that by 1875 mining activity had been greatly curtailed and Virginia City had dwindled to less than eight hundred people. A significant portion of the remaining population were Chinese who continued to work abandoned claims.

With the dwindling fortunes of Virginia City came a significant change – the territorial capital was moved to Helena. Still, Virginia City hung on (and today still has about one hundred and thirty residents). In 1898 new mining machinery arrived, a dredge boat by the name of Maggie Gibson, and the town experienced a bit of a resurgence, although those operations would leave a permanent scar on the landscape.

By 1937 dredging had ceased – World War I and the Great Depression had taken a toll and weakened demand. When America entered World War II, gold mining was deemed a non-essential activity all over the country. The economic engine in the area today is found in tourist dollars after efforts to preserve these old mining towns was undertaken several years ago, although since World War II sporadic activity has been noted when gold prices have surged.

Did you enjoy this article?  Yes? Check out Digging History Magazine.  Since January 2018 new articles are published in a digital magazine (PDF) available by individual issue purchase or subscription (with three options).  Most issues run between 70-85 pages, filled with articles of interest to history-lovers and genealogists — it’s all history, right? 🙂  No ads — just carefully-researched, well-written stories, complete with footnotes and sources.

Want to know more or try out a free issue? You can download either (or both) of the January-February 2019 and March-April 2019 issues here:  https://digging-history.com/free-samples/

Thanks for stopping by!

 

 

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