Thursday, May 8, 2008

The Year of the Great Bean Soup Dilemma


When you are number seven in a tribe of nine children, there are CONSEQUENCES. Consequences like big brothers who think it's funny to tell their little sister in graphic detail exactly where ham comes from - from a pig, from a pig's, well, butt to be exact. And when you are six, and a teensy bit headstrong and definitely repulsed by the image of ham coming from — well, a pig's butt, then you do what any reasonable child would do under the circumstances — you refuse to eat ham, ever. No exceptions.

Now normally, this ban on ham eating would not be a problem, unless of course, you happen to be going to a rural school in Arkansas in the late 1930's, and they happen to serve a lot of bean soup with ham for lunch. They served the soup so often that it was noticed that the little Ohio transplant wouldn't touch the stuff.

Cajoling wouldn't change her stance, nor reasoning (the beans and soup TOUCHED the ham — you just can't reason something like that away!) and finally, when all else failed, threats were made.

And not just any threats, they made the big threat — “We're going to write a note home to your mother!” And when the little girl still refused to eat the soup, the school followed through and sent a note home detailing the child's refusal to eat.

To say that her mother was unhappy about receiving the missive from school is to understate the response by a couple of miles. As my mother put it, she caught holy heck from her mother.

But even this didn't change my mother's mind on eating the soup. Finally, everybody just gave up trying to get her to eat it. Curious, I asked her, what did you eat instead? Mom said she didn't know what she ate on those days when bean soup was on the menu, but she knew what she didn't eat — bean soup with ham.

So in a little country school in Arkansas, where some of the children went to school barefoot, and where all the first-, second- and third-graders were taught in the same one-room building, my mother learned a couple of lessons.

She learned that listening to the big third graders reading out of their more advanced readers made her a better reader, which turned out to be a huge advantage when she went back to Ohio to finish her education.

She learned at the ripe old age of six, when it was important, she had the power to say no and to make the no stick.

And she learned that a person could live a full life without eating bean soup with ham.

And that my friends is the answer to the Carnival of Genealogy's question, “Mom, how'd you get so smart?”

Until Next Time!

Disclaimer: No pigs were harmed in the writing of this post. Opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect the writer's own thoughts on the subject of pork and or ham. In fact, they no longer reflect the author's mother's feelings on the subject of pork and or ham. In do course, and as a cognizant request, please do not send any brochures from the “Council on Pork,” nor from the “Save the Pigs” foundation. Really, we are just a normal everyday family - normal, normal, normal.

Note this post first published online, May 8, 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 8 May 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 


Tuesday, May 6, 2008

The Berlin Connection

Last week I spoke about the homeland of my Great Grandparents. I spoke in generalities. Today I indulge in some specifics. 

As a child, my sister and I would be play a game we made up called, “Berlin Wall.” I was eight when the wall between East and West Berlin was built. Television shows, quick to see the compelling drama that stories centered on this subject would have, proved to be ample fodder for our young minds. It never occurred to me or my younger sister that for some of our relatives, this was not make-believe drama, bur rather a fact of every day life. At the time, we didn't know that our grandmother had aunts, uncles and cousins she had never met living in Berlin and East Germany.

In a November post, I wrote about a box that my younger sister had “inherited” that contained precious clues to our German relatives. 

“The box went from my great-grandparents' house to their eldest son, William. Upon William's death, his widow, Louise, gave the box to my parents. Because the papers in the box were all in German, my parents gave the box to my sister, who had taken two years of high school German. My sister dutifully stored the box of German papers on a shelf in the closet. And there the box sat half-forgotten gathering dust.” 

Among the items in the box was a letter written from Leo's sister Minna. The letter, written in 1907 has not been translated, but the address is easy to read — the letter came from Berlin. It was signed Paul und Minna, and the reason I know she was Leo's sister is because of another item that was also in the box. 

Only two things in the box were placed there after World War II. One was a German bible that my great grandmother Emma had carried with her every week as she walked to Sunday church service at St. Paul's in Clyde. The bible was added to the box after her death in 1952. The other was a copy of a funeral notice for Minna von Malottki, who died May 31, 1958.

Among other things we learn from the notice is that she outlived her husband by a year and a half, her survivors include a daughter Kathe Corsten and her husband Dr. Walter Corsten. Also surviving are Kathe's two children, Manfred and Wolfgang Corsten, a daughter-in-law Charlotte von Malottki and presumably Charlotte's two children, Victoria and Sylvia von Malottki. No son is mentioned, but Charlotte is listed with a maiden name of Karl indicating that there was probably a son who predeceased Minna. 

Part of the opening lines “unsere über alles geliebte Mutter, Schwiegermutter, Oma, Schwester und Schwägerin,“ refer to Minna as being a mother, a mother-in-law, grandmother, sister and sister-in-law . This leads to speculation that perhaps some of those siblings who remained in Germany were still alive. 

Leo, my great grandfather, came to the United States in 1906. Another sister, Hulda Kollat, emigrated in 1904 along with her husband Carl and her children. Carl Kollat acted as a sponsor for Leo and Emma. It is known that another brother, Franz, had died before my great grandfather was born, but two sisters, Ida and Emma, are unaccounted for as well as two brothers Carl and Paul. I suspect that either Ida or Emma was married to a Tuschy because in 1910 a letter arrived from Budow. The letterhead read, “Albert Tuschy, Gastwirt.” Gastwirt means innkeeper. 

The greeting in the letter is “Lieber Onkel und Tante!” or Dear Uncle and Aunt. I have not found any more information on Albert or the Tuschy connection to the Schröder family. Minna's funeral notice gives the place for the burial service as the chapel at Wilmendorfer Cemetery. Wilmendorfer was in the British Sector of Berlin. It is quite likely that Minna was living in the British Sector. Of course, she died before the Berlin Wall was erected in 1961, but she would have been living in Berlin in 1948 when the Soviets decided they wanted the Allied Forces out of Berlin. 

As I wrote last week, after the war, Berlin was divided into four occupied zones. The Eastern section of the city was under Soviet occupation, while the western portions of the city were under either France, American or British rule. The problem was that Berlin itself was situated in what was to become the German Democratic Republic, more commonly known as East Germany, which was entirely under the control of the Soviet Union. The Soviets decided the best way to get rid of the Allied Forces was to impose a blockade so that no Allied trucks could go into or out of Berlin. The effect of this blockade would be to keep food and fuel getting to the American, French and British troops in Berlin. It would also keep 2 million Berliners from getting these same items. 

Because Berlin's two airports were in the British and American sectors, and because in 1945 a 20-mile wide strip of free air corridor had been agreed upon by all parties INCLUDING the Soviets, the British and American forces launched the Berlin Airlift to supply the troops and the people of Berlin. It seemed at first an almost impossible task, but with ingenuity and the help of the West Berliners themselves, the operation was a success. The Airlift lasted from June 1948 until September 1949. Approximately 2.3 million tons of goods were delivered in that time. A very interesting account of the Berlin Airlift is here http://www.spiritoffreedom.org/airlift.html. Be sure to read the paragraph labeled, “OPERATION LITTLE VITTLES” which tells the story of one Air Force Pilot's efforts to go the extra mile for the children of Berlin. 

Minna's funeral notice was sent to Hulda's family and someone from the family copied the notice and sent it to Leo. It is the only tangible proof we have that a member of Leo's family survived the war. The upside of being a genea-blogger is that I can put my unsolved riddles out here on the Internet. You never know — someone out there may Google the Tuschy or von Malottki name and find this post. Stranger things have happened.

Until Next Time! 

Note this post first published online, May 6, 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 6 May 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 


Thursday, May 1, 2008

Part II: Pomerania - War and Consequences

Note: In my previous post, I talked briefly about the County Stolp in the province of Pomerania. This is where my Germanic roots lie. Today I conclude with the end of the war and its aftermath. 

The people of Pomerania knew that the Russian Army was rapidly advancing on them. Hitler had made sure that everyone heard of the horrors that had happened in Nemmendorf when the Russians had overtaken that village in the fall of 1944. Women crucified on barn doors, children murdered, old women shot as they sat in their homes. 

Anxiously the people of Stolp waited for the required permission to evacuate to the coast — some would be taken in ships to Mecklenburg and others to Denmark. Finally, at the beginning of March the word came to evacuate the villages in the Southwestern point of Stolp. Budow, Muttrin and Klein Gansen were ordered to evacuate on March 6. Klein Nossin, Nippolglense, Gross Gansen and Gaffert were ordered to leave the following day. But had the evacuation orders come too late? 

The Russian Army moved quickly and some of the refugees were overtaken by the army and were forced to retreat back to their homes. Others, not overtaken, found themselves behind enemy lines, making it perilous to continue. On March 8-9, the county of Stolp was the site of fierce fighting and the danger to those who journeyed to the coast was increased even more. The net effect of all this was that most of those who set out to leave were still in their villages when the Russian Army took control.

Yet, some managed to make it to safety and boarded refugee ships. An interesting collection of letters and recollections of the events of March 1945 were edited and published by Heino Kebschull in 2002. Called, “Klein Nossin, Flight and Expulsions Recollections,” and translated by Leslie and Martha Riggle, you can read a more detailed account of the experiences of those who lived in Klein Nossin during those fateful days at http://www.klein-nossin.de/dateien/flight.pdf.

There are also recollections about what was to happen next. The redrawing of borders was finalized at the Potsdam Conference in July and August of that year. Germany and Austria were divided into four occupied zones, as were their respective capital cities, Berlin and Vienna. The land that Hitler had “annexed” would no longer be a part of Germany. Russia added to its territory by taking a chunk of what had been East Prussia and by grabbing 70,000 square miles of Poland along what was known as the Curzon line. The Poles who had lived in the area east of the line were to be expelled, but would be given land elsewhere in compensation. 

“Elsewhere” turned out to be German lands east of the Oder and Neisse Rivers. Two-thirds of Pomerania was east of this line. A plan of “humane” expulsion of the Hinterpommern, West Prussia, Silesia and the remaining portion of East Prussia took place between 1945 and 1949. They were joined by ethnic Germans who had lived in Czechoslovakia, Poland, Yugoslavia, Hungary, and Romania. Depending on whose numbers you believe, up to 12 million Germans were expelled from their homes, an estimated 10 percent died or went missing as a result of their flight from the Russians or the expulsions. In a world weary of war, and in the wake of uncovered atrocities of the Germans, no one raised a syllable of protest when the Polish citizens were expelled from the new Russian territory, nor did they protest the followed expulsions of the Germans. 

Those in the Hinterpommern were allowed to take one suitcase — sometimes not even the suitcase arrived at their new destination. And the destination — a war-ravaged Germany that had little room for them. 

Karl-Heinz Pagel, in his book, “The District Stolp in Pomerania,” gives the following statistics. He reports how many wanted to live in the occupied zones controlled by the British, American and French forces. This area was commonly known as West Germany. The fourth zone was under Soviet control and was commonly called East Germany.

Budow - 310 to West Germany, 122 to East Germany, 31 killed in war, 20 civilians dead, 41 missing

Gross Gansen - 193 West Germany, 186 East Germany, 23 killed in war, 22 civilians dead, 63 missing

Klein Gansen - 244 West Germany, 98 East Germany, 21 killed in war, 26 civilians dead, 44 missing

Klein Nossin - 129 West Germany, 54 East Germany, 17 killed in war, 11 civilians dead, 41 missing

Muttin - 465 West Germany, 126 East Germany, 26 killed in war, 36 civilians dead, 75 missing

Nippoglense - 150 West Germany, 125 East Germany, 15 killed in war, 9 civilians dead, 25 missing

Gaffert - 153 West Germany, 59 East Germany, 7 killed in war, 9 civilians dead, 42 missing 

The Soviet controlled German Democratic Republic or East Germany had closed borders, restricting travel between the “two” Germanys. While West Germans were permitted limited access into East Germany, most East Germans were not allowed to cross over into West Germany.

In 1990, the two halves of Germany were reunited. One of the conditions of reunification was that they agreed to make permanent the Polish Border at the Oder-Neisse Line, thus officially ending any German claims to the Hinterpommern.

Should I choose to visit the former homeland of my great grandparents, the Baltic Sea would still be there, as would the deep green forests, and the gentle countryside, but the signs would not be written in the language of my ancestors, nor would the faces searched be those of any distant relative. But as I looked for information about the village of Budow, now known as Budowo, I found a journal entry mentioning an old church there. 

I remembered seeing a picture someone had taken of the church on Google Earth. It was labeled, Budowo Ko_ció_ zabytkowy z XIV w, which roughly translated means “antique church in Budow.” Could it be the same church where my great-grandparents and their two oldest boys had been baptized? Anxiously, I looked for the picture again, this time comparing it to an old picture I had found online a few years ago. It was the SAME church — it still stands, and the thought that it still stands there, surviving both time and war, seems somehow right. 

Until Next Time!

Note this post first published online, May 2, 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 1 May 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 


Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Part I: Pomerania - An Introduction

In February 1945, as World War II was drawing to a close, the leaders of the Allied “Big Three” — Stalin, Roosevelt and Churchill — met in Yalta to discuss, among many things, the realignment of borders after the war. Of the four proposals given for the partitioning of Germany, three of them would have kept the province of Pomerania as part of a partitioned Germany. The fourth proposal, pushed by Stalin and eventually agreed upon, did not.

It is in the province of Pomerania where my German roots lie. Pomerania's northern border is the Baltic Sea. To its west lies the province of Mecklenburg, to the south Brandenburg and to the East, Poland. The part of Pomerania that lies west of the Oder River is known as Vorpommern, while the land to the east is called Hinterpommern. In 1939, at the beginning of World War II, Pomerania was comprised of 32 counties. In German, a county is called a Kreis. The Kreis Stolp was one of the northern most counties, and the second farthest eastern county, and it was this county where my great grandparents, Leo Schröder and Emma Gleffe Schröder, were born.

Their families lived in the southernmost area of the county, very close to the Rummelsburg and Butow counties of Pomerania. Stolp was one of the least populated of the counties and it was dotted with many small villages whose names I now recognize. Names such as Budow, Gross Gansen, Klein Gansen, Wundichow, Gaffert, Muttrin, Klein Nossin, and Nippoglense have become like familiar friends. 

Budow, for example, was the village in which my great grandparents were living when their oldest son Wilhelm, or Willi, was born. The village is mentioned in a document dated 1340 but it is thought to be older than that. Slavs settled first in the area and later Germans moved in and coexisted peacefully with their Slavic neighbors. According to one legend, the village was moved after a particularly devastating plague killed many of the villagers. They shoveled under the old village and rebuilt it in another location not far away. 

While the village was once a part of the Holy Roman Empire, and as such a Catholic village, a local priest by the name of John Stojentin began to follow the doctrine of Martin Luther, and the villagers became Lutherans by default. This did not set well with their Polish neighbors and once, in the early part of the 16th century, Polish raiders came and burnt the village along with the church as the people who had been worshiping watched in horror. The word of the burning of the church spread, and donations from all across the Pommern came, enabling a wonderful new church to be built. 

During the Thirty Years War, once again, the church went up in flames and once again, it was rebuilt. The church burned a third time in September 1815 when a house next to the church caught fire and the straw roof of the house blew onto the wooden roof of the church. The church that was rebuilt this time was the same church in which my great grandparents had their sons Willi and Max baptized in 1903 and 1905, respectively.

In Gross Gansen, where my great-great-grandfather Gleffe lived, the population numbered 362 in 1905. It was this village that Emma and Leo listed as their home on the ship's manifest in March of 1906. The county Stolp, had as its largest city, a city also named Stolp with slightly more than 31,000 people in 1905. A letter from Stolp arrived in Clyde, Ohio in 1908. The language spoken in Pomerania was Plattdüütsch or Low German, which is still spoken in parts of Northern Germany and it is a separate language from High German, the official German language.

An Internet friend from Germany, Jörg Gliewe, translated the letter into High German for me, so that I could get an approximate translation from my online translator. The letter is from Emma's brother Paul and his wife, Bertha. Karl who is also referred to in the letter was Emma's youngest brother, who was 10 years older then his nephew Willi. Below is an approximate translation of the letter: 

Dear brother and sister

We have gotten your letter and the picture. We have always asked if you still think of us. Karl has always talked about Willi. He says he remembers quite well how he and Willi drove to Gross Gansen in the wagon. He was very pleased about the picture. We will also send one. We now have 3 (2 boys and a girl) The smallest boy is 1.5 years old. Dear Sister, write us whether you still want to come back. Or don't you? Or do you think you do (in America) better than in Germany? I like it in Stolp and it is also quite good. I deserve also very beautiful. I am here also in the Steinsetzern. I will make 4 Mark each day. I still learn and I only receive about 6 Mark each day. Then I will be ready. Write us, whether the work is also very difficult and how long you have to work. We work here 10 hours from 6 to 6. Tell us whether you also live in the city or in the countryside. And if you live in the country, do you have cows and pigs and chickens -- Just like here, too? Do you have grain and potatoes? And is it also expensive as here? Or is it cheaper? Write us again exactly how it for you. What else I do not know to write. Now you as well and send us back soon. Karl says to say hi to Willi. He says: Willi should come back again. Now you write to us soon.

Best Greeting Paul and Bertha 

An address directory in 1938 confirms that Paul and Bertha were still living in the city of Stolp at that time. As far as we know, because the letters stopped coming from Germany at the start of World War II, all the remaining family were living in either the city of Stolp or in the villages of Stolp as the Russian Army approached from the East in early March 1945. 

Tomorrow I will continue this series with a look at end of the war and its aftermath. 

Until Next Time - Happy Ancestral Digging! 

Note: At http://pomeranianews.com/pomerania_map.html you will find these maps of interest. Pomerania – Mid 19th Century 
The German Empire – 1871 – 1918
Pomerania – 1938 
At this website, you can see the villages and towns of Stolp. Most of the villages mentioned can be founded at the southern most tip of the map. http://www.stolp.de/images/Stolp-Kreis/Kreiskarten/Kreis-Stolp-72-2.jpg

© 30 April 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

I am a German girl

For many years, I avoided doing research on my German ancestors. As a child I had read such books as, “Diary of Anne Frank,” “Escape from Warsaw,” “Snow Treasure,” and “Mila 18.” 

I remember watching World War II movies as I drowsily fell asleep in the back of our old Chevrolet station wagon at the local drive-in. The lesson from all these books and movies was clear — Germans bad, everybody else good. I consoled myself with the thought that most of my German ancestors had made it to American shores by the end of the 18th century, so I hoped that whatever character flaw allowed the evil of Treblinka, Dachau and Buchenwald to occur, had not yet entered the German gene pool.

But one set of great-grandparents did not make the American voyage until the beginning of the 20th century. They left behind, in the old country, a large family of siblings, parents, aunts, uncles, nephews and nieces. Many of their family, my family, were still alive when the Nazis came to power. With as much trepidation as a child opening an old cellar door, I have opened my own door to my German past. It is an ongoing project, whose treasures are not easily found. 

Tomorrow, inspired by the Carnival of Genealogy's next edition, “A Place Called Home,” I will share with the information about my own German homeland Until Next Time ...

Note this post first published online, April , 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 29 August 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

Thursday, April 24, 2008

My earliest, scariest television moment — a Sunday in November

Cheryl of “Nordic Blue” has started an intriguing meme that asks the question, “What was your earliest, scariest TV moment?” For Cheryl, who like me is a member of the Baby Boom Generation — the first generation to grow up with television — her answer was the very first episode of “The Outer Limits.”

I've been sitting here pondering what my own answer to the question would be. I have a hunch if I could remember back that far, my answer would be seeing Clarabell the Clown, on “The Howdy Doody Show.” I've never liked clowns and to this day just seeing a picture of Clarabell makes my stomach hurt. But I was too young, and the actual memory has long since dissipated. 

I know for years that the annual showing of “The Wizard of Oz” would necessitate my hiding behind the couch when the Wicked Witch of the West appeared calling Dorothy “my pretty.” Really, I hated that show — even though I watched it year after year. The sight of those beautiful ruby red slippers kept me coming back. But if I were to nominate the scariest moment of all, it would have to be what I witnessed on TV at the age of 10.

To this day, I don't know if I witnessed the actual event as it happened, or if I just saw one of the many replays that flooded the television later. All I can say for sure is that when I saw it that very first time, I didn't realize what was actually happening until it was over. At 10, before I had become hardened to the violence that the magic living room box could bring nightly into our home, I was inconsolably horrified.

As I watched unsuspectingly, the Dallas police brought Lee Harvey Oswald, arrested for the assassination of President Kennedy, out through the basement door of the police station. Jack Ruby, a local nightclub owner, stepped up and shot Oswald in the abdomen, on television, in front of a shocked nation. Those three days in November, almost 45 years ago, with the shooting of an American President, and the subsequent shooting of his accused killer two days later, shook the very core of my emotional being. 

It stripped from me that gentle cloak of childhood innocence, and I remember quite clearly thinking if no one could keep a President from being shot and a group of policemen could not keep his killer from being shot, then how safe could anyone, like, say, my father be? Before those three days, I did not run out into traffic, not because I really thought a car would hit me, but because I knew if my parents found out there would be lectures and some sort of punishment.

I didn't accept candy from strangers, not because I feared poison or some pedophilic lure, but because again, I knew my mother would know and again there would be a lecture and punishment. The world became a darker place for me after those three days in November, and I adjusted my life and my thinking accordingly. Did this in some fundamental way change the person I became? I don't know — maybe, probably. But the sight of a real living, breathing man being shot on television certainly was my earliest, scariest TV moment. So, what was it for you? What was your earliest, scariest TV moment?

Note this post first published online, April 24, 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 24 August 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Pension File Stories: The Mystery of the Missing Bible

Last month, in my first installment of pension file stories, I introduced you to my great great grandparents, Louisa Ish Smathers and Henry Smathers. Their story was a sobering account of life in the aftermath of war. But not all information found in a soldier's pension file requires such somber thought. Sometimes you come across a piece of family history that will cause a smile.

Take the case of the missing family Bible. Henry had several brothers who served with Union forces. Two of those brothers, Reuben and Franklin, served, like Henry, in Company E 53rd Infantry Regiment Ohio. Henry enlisted November 21, 1861, followed by Reuben on January 6, 1862, with Franklin enlisting on February 29, 1864. According to their military records, the brothers were 23, 20, and 18, respectively, on their dates of enlistment. 

Congress passed one of several pension acts in 1907, specifically the Act of February 6, 1907, setting the monthly pension payments for veterans of both the Civil War and the Mexican-American War based on the age of the veteran. At age 62, provided the veteran met the other requirements of this act, he would be entitled to $12 a month, while at 70 the amount increased to $15 and at age 75, the amount topped out at $20 a month. 

On April 1, 1909, Reuben applied for an increase in monthly pension, claiming that he had turned 70 earlier that year in February. One problem — he had stated his age at enlistment as 20 years old in January of 1862. A February birthday would mean that he would have been born in 1841 and therefore was only 68 years old in 1909. According to the pension papers, Reuben's testimony was:

He was born in (the) Month of February in year 1839, and the way I fix the date of my birth is that I voted my first time for Abraham Lincoln for President of the United States in the fall of 1860. There was a family record of my birth but it has long since been lost, and I know of no public record of my birth. Was baptized when quite a small child but am not able to give a record of it as it has been so long ago. It seems that the Officers made a mistake in my age when I enlisted in the Army and I thought it not necessary to ever have it corrected, and can only make affidavit that I am positive I am over 70 years of age. 

The pension board was not content with Reuben's testimony and on April 27, 1909, his brother, Lawson Smathers appeared in neighboring Athens County and testified to Reuben's age. The following statement is found in Reuben's pension file derived from Lawson's (whom the record listed as Losen Smathers) statement. 

He is a Brother of the above named Reuben Smathers, of Co. E. 53rd, Ohio Volunteers Infantry. And that he is the youngest of the Smathers Family and that the family record was left in his care and that his children got hold of it through some means and destroyed the records. And that his brother Reuben Smathers was born in the month of February 1839 in Clarion County, Penn. 

In truth, Reuben probably was not certain himself of his actual age. In the 1850 census, his age is listed as 10. The 1860 census has him as 21. The 1870 census finds him at 28. In the 1880 census, he is listed at 39. The 1900 census shows him at 54 and in his final appearance in a census, he is listed as 71 in 1910. It's interesting to see that he aged 16 years in the 10 years between 1900 and 1910. 

Franklin Smathers, the younger brother, also makes a statement about the family Bible in his application dated October 30, 1915. He states that there is no public or family record that proves his date of birth, which Franklin states was January 20, 1846. 

Affiant further alleges that his brother, Lawson at one time put a sum of money in the family Bible and during the night season the house was burglarized and the said family Bible together with the money was taken and never recovered.

Same brother, same record, different story. Maybe family Bibles were hot commodities for thieves at the turn of the century, but my hunch is that if the Bible had indeed ever existed, the first version of the missing Bible would probably have been closer to the truth. 

Though my goal in poring over page after page of pension file papers is that of finding some vital statistic to add to the family tree, these well-mined anecdotal nuggets are the true reward. They fuel the imagination and add to the “color” of my family portrait. For each unexpected find, I am always delighted and grateful. 

Until Next Time - Happy Ancestral Digging! 

1. Reuben Smathers (Pvt., Co. E, 53rd Ohio Inf., Civil War) pension no. 414111, certificate no. 509149, Case Files of Approved Pension Applications, 1863-1934, Civil War and Later pension files, Dept of Veteran Affairs National Archives, Washington D.C. 
2. Franklin Smathers (Pvt., Co. E, 53rd Ohio Inf., Civil War) pension no. 896663, certificate no. 676404, Case Files of Approved Pension Applications, 1864-1934; Civil War and Later pension Files; Dept of Veteran Affairs National Archives, Washington, D.C. 
3. 1850 US Federal Census, State of Pennsylvania, Clarion County, Madison Township, v 1319, Head of Household, Jacob Smathers, online digital image, Ancestry.com.
4. 1860 US Federal Census, State of Ohio, Vinton County, Clinton Township, v 498, Head of Household, Jacob Smathers, online digital image, Ancestry.com. 
5. 1870 US Federal Census, State of Ohio, Jackson County, Milton Township, v 238, Head of Household, Reuben Smathers, online digital image, Ancestry.com.
6. 1880 US Federal Census, State of Ohio, Jackson County, Milton Township, v 284, Head of Household, Reuben Smathers, online digital image, Ancestry.com. 
7. 1900 US Federal Census, State of Ohio, Jackson County, Madison Township, v 90, Head of Household, Reuben, Smathers, online digital image, Ancestry.com. 
8. 1910 US Federal Census, State of Ohio, Jackson County, Madison Township, v113, Head of Household, Ruben (sic) Smathers, online digital image, Ancestry.com. 

Note this post first published online, April 22, 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 22 April 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

Terry

Terry

Labels