His fragile back horribly distorted by a Civil War injury, William Henry Beltz bore the appearance of a hunchback for the rest of his long life, worsening as time went on. Born near Schellsburg, Bedford County, PA, he was the son of Lewis Beltz and stepson of Matilda (Comp) Beltz.
The slightly built William stood 5 feet, 2 inches tall in adulthood and weighed 123 lbs. After the Civil War broke out, he joined the Union Army, enlisting on his 17th birthday and was placed within the 55th Pennsylvania Infantry. In the spring of 1864, he saw action at the battles of Petersburg, Cold Harbor and Drewry’s Bluff, all near Richmond. While carrying heavy loads of ammunition in his knapsack one day, his undersized frame could not bear the weight, and his spinal column shifted out of place, causing debilitating pain. He “broke down completely” later that year and was admitted to Hampton Hospital at Fortress Monroe, where he spent the remainder of the war there.
In June 1868, back at home, he applied for and was awarded a military pension. John A. Livingston, his former company commander, wrote that “if any man in the country deserves a pension that man is William H. Beltz.” He and his wife Isabella moved to the Hazelwood section of Pittsburgh, where he taught penmanship, oratory and dramatic art in the city schools. He authored “True to the Flag,” which the Braddock Herald once said was “a play that lays hold of the motions and you must laugh and can’t help but cry.” In 1908, he spoke at a church event, reciting his poem, “The Battle of Cold Harbor,” which the Connellsville Daily Courier noted “was highly appreciated by everyone present. The house was filled.”
As the years progressed, William suffered increasingly from spinal pain. It was the equivalent, he claimed, of having lost a hand or foot, rendering him unable to perform manual labor. Physicians noted that the spinal column fully three inches out of alignment which caused his left lung to collapse. His condition was photographed from time to time, with the images provided to the government as further proof of his disability. This image, found in his pension file, was provided courtesy of the National Archives in St. Louis. More>>>
Ohio natives Harland Wynn Tucker of Toledo and Marie Walcamp of Dennison were movie stars of the silent film era who married each other. They met when acting together in a series produced by Universal Studios, known as The Dragon’s Net, and their wedding was held in 1920 in Tokyo, Japan. Here, the honeymooners are aboard ship en route back to the United States. Enlarge>>>
Harland was the son of Judge Robert Tucker of Portland, OR, of the family of Jones and Catherine (Welker) Tucker. He was considered a hearththrob although he never had starring movie part. Early in his career, he played leading roles in stage plays in Los Angeles. In 1935, he portrayed Lord Throgmorton in the play Mary of Scotland, authored by Maxwell Anderson and Helen Hayes and later made into an RKO Radio film starring Katharine Hepburn and Fredric March. In 1936, he was in the film Charlie Chan At the Opera for Twentieth Century Fox. Among his other movie appearances were in Kid Galahad (starring Edward G. Robinson, Bette Davis and Humphrey Bogart), Missing Witnesses (starring Dick Purcell, John Litel and Jean Dale) and Slim, all circa 1937.
Marie was the daughter of Arnold and Mary (Mackel) Walcamp. Her filmography included more than 100 productions between 1913 (The Werewolf) and 1927 (In a Moment of Temptation), many of them silent films where she often was a heroine of the action and Western genre. Reported one newspaper, “Her popularity in series and westerns during WWI was second to none in the industry.”
The Tuckers dwelled in Hollywood and are known to have performed together in films such as On the Ragged Edge (1928) and in carnivals with Jack Benny. They separated in February 1934 but within a few months were reconciled. For years, they are known to have traveled to Ohio to visit Marie’s brother Harry and to nearby Pittsburgh, leading Pittsburgh Sun-Telegraph columnist George Seibel to write in 1935 that “Marie Walcamp, who is a Pittsburgh girl, was famous before she married George Sharp’s leading man. She was the desperate cowgirl of the early Western movie serials; more redskins, greasers, and cattle-rustlers have bitten the dust before her trusty rifle than the total losses at Gettysburg.” At her tragic death at the age of 42, syndicated Hollywood columnist Robbin Coons wrote the following:
Marie Walcamp is dead, victim they said, of worry over poor health. The new generation of film fans would not remember the name. Once upon a time kids stomped and whistled and cheered when it flashed on the screen, usually on Saturday matinees, which was serial pictures. Marie, with her blonde curls streaming, dared death week after week with the brawly little Eddie Polo… When Marie went abroad the natives cheered as loudly as for Mary Pickford, then the queen of screen drama. They mobbed her and fought for her autograph. And when she died she rated a couple of sticks of type. Hollywood has no serial queens today to compare with those of the Marie Walcamp era.
For the second straight year, Minerd.com presents an unusual, almost 100-year-old image of Santa Claus on the cover of the Missouri Pacific Lines (MOPAC) railroad company magazine. Cousin Edward Harlan “E.H.” McReynolds, the grandson of Missouri pioneers, was its longtime editor until his tragic demise during the depths of the Great Depression. Enlarge>>>
Based in St. Louis, the MOPAC was a small regional midwestern railroad which dramatically expanded in the 1920s and ’30s. Edwin was hired in 1923 as assistant to the president and director of publicity-advertising. Over the span of his 14-year career, among other roles, he served as editor of the company magazine, and his name graced the masthead of each and every issue. Edward once wrote of his gratification in the “continuous publication of what has come to be widely acclaimed as one of the outstanding employe magazines in America.”
Here’s my updated list of news articles and blog posts which have impressed me most since April 2019, all originally posted on the “Favorite Links” page of my award-winning website, Minerd.com.
These stories have some connection to my favorite themes — Americana, culture, art, journalism, science, technology, faith, history/genealogy, German-ness … and my hometown of Pittsburgh. They cover important issues in our society but do more than just reporting on the who, what and when. The pieces go deeper into the how and why of issues and are worthy of sharing.
The lives of convicted horse thief Charles Pierce and deputy sheriff Henry B. “Teddy” Frank of Bloomington, IL collided and ended savagely on the evening of Oct. 1, 1881.
The son of Jacob and Catharine (Weyand) Frank of Somerset, PA and Bloomington, Henry one of four brothers who had served in the Civil War. At the time of his murder, he worked as McLean County jailkeeper and was considered a “well-known, well-liked and respected public servant,” said the loomington Pantagraph. On the fateful day, he was directed to escort Pierce from the courtroom to his jail cell. As they walked, Pierce grabbed Teddy’s .44 Smith & Wesson pistol and fired. His first shot hit Henry in the shoulder; the second struck directly in the chest, killing him instantly. Pierce quickly was apprehended and placed in his cell.
Word swept through the town, and a mob of outraged citizens formed within the hour, calling for frontier justice. A number of public officials, including future Illinois Governor Joseph W. Fifer, tried to calm the mob. But the townspeople would not be assuaged and continued to grow to several thousand in number. At some point they used telegraph poles to batter down the doors of the prison and then haul Pierce outside. Even though he asked for time to pray, a three-quarter inch thick rope was wrapped around the prisoner’s neck, and he was struck up on a tree limb across the street. One spectator climbed the tree and pulled the noose even higher, and then dropped it again, to amplify the suffocation process.
A Chicago newspaper reported that as he gasped for breath, Pierce was “subjected to the grossest insult not becoming the most brutal savage. The pants were ripped from the body, and a lighted cigar stuck in the gaping mouth. One plug-ugly, more atrocious than the rest, slid down the rope with great force to the shoulders of the struggling victim. Small boys hooted, yelled, and taunted [Pierce], calling him all manner of vile names.” It was “the county’s only documented lynching” in its history, said the Pantagraph.
The corpse was cut down and then displayed in the windows of the local funeral parlor for hundreds to see, and a photograph was taken. A scanned copy of the image graciously has been provided to Minerd.com by the McLean County History Museum.
This blog actually has nothing to do with marine biology, except in the inspiration.
Rather, it’s about a September 2019 genealogy research trip I made to Longswamp Township and other communities in the Reading-to-Allentown corridor of Pennsylvania. My objective was to find and photograph grave markers of early generations of our Pennsylvania German cousins of the Gaumer surname, who did not migrate westward, especially those in the old German gothic script. I also wanted to document the extent to which generations of cousins continued to use the German language over many decades.
It took several weeks to process and name all of the digital image files; color-correct, crop, resize and add each to its respective biography on the Minerd.com website; and then sort and place all of them into permanent digital folders for easy access in the future.
The trip was inspired by John Steinbeck’s non-fiction book, The Log from the Sea of Cortez, which I first read in 1991 and have consumed several more times since then. It’s a recap of a trawler boat trip which he and marine biologist Ed Ricketts made in 1940, on the eve of World War II, down the California and Mexico coastline and then up into the Mexican Gulf of California. Their goal was to make frequent stops and go ashore to explore the vast diversity of rich marine life – sea cucumbers, starfish, mollusks – found teeming in the coastal tide pools, rocks and sand. They took specimens and recorded color, size and shape characteristics and noted their geographic distribution as compared with other parts of the region.
The offbeat, often-philosophical book reinforced to me that, if I were to truly shoot the moon and learn about the totality of our Meinert/Minerd family within Americana, I’d need to regularly travel and find and excavate the paper trail of the nooks and crannies where they lived their lives – their “tide pools.” Since then, often in company with cousin-researcher Eugene Podraza, I’ve made annual summertime treks to Ohio, West Virginia, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri and Kansas, as well as to the National Archives in Washington, DC.
And over the past few years, I’ve immersed myself more deeply into early cousins’ Pennsylvania-German lifestyles and customs, even reading further back about Martin Luther, Goethe and the Thirty Years War to try to figure out what our forefathers brought with them from the old country. From their life stories, we can learn the German folkways of our cousins which were otherwise lost over time.
Here’s one of my favorite excerpts from Steinbeck’s book:
A number of times we were asked, Why do you do this thing, this picking up and pickling of little animals? To our own people we could have said any one of a number of meaningless things, which by sanction have been accepted as meaningful. We could have said, ‘We wish to fill in certain gaps in the knowledge of the Gulf fauna.’… The lies we tell about our duty and our purposes, the meaningless words of science and philosophy, are walls that topple before a bewildered little ‘why.’ … [W]e did these things because it was pleasant to do them.
10 Findings from the Longswamp ‘Tide Pools:’
1. The Pennsylvania German language can be viewed in three perspectives, as spoken, written and read. The grave markers certainly reflect the latter two as inscribed on stones throughout the 1700s, 1800s and even into the 1900s. Surprisingly, in researching the lives of these families, it’s clear that the spoken version remained in the common speech well into the 20th century. I’ve found one story in 1914 where four-year-old cousin Herbert Acker, who accidentally wandered onto trolley tracks 60 feet above ground in Allentown, was warned by a panicked vehicle operator in both English and German to “stand still” so he would not fall.
2. The German language had looooong staying power. It was humbling to stand at the grave of Elizabeth Meinert’s husband, Revolutionary War veteran Johannes “Dietrich” Gaumer (1722-1794), in Zions Lehigh Evangelical Lutheran Church Cemetery in Alburtis, Lehigh County. At least five generations of their descendants, over the span of some 200 years in Pennsylvania, used German as their primary tongue. In his day, Benjamin Franklin was so afraid of the strength of German culture that he wrote the following:
Why should the Palatine boors be suffered to swarm into our settlements and, by herding together, establish their language and manners to the exclusion of ours? Why should Pennsylvania, founded by the English, become a colony of aliens, who will shortly be so numerous as to Germanize us, instead of our Anglifying them?”
The Gaumers’ great-great grandson Henry S. Miller (1872-1949), of the Heimbach branch, was a talented stone cutter who inscribed hundreds of grave markers over the years in the Allentown area. Reported the Allentown Morning Call dryly in 1945, after Nazi Germany’s defeat in World War II, “Mr. Miller specializes in raised lettering. In former years he also worked much on German script for monuments. He did the last one five years ago. There is no longer a demand for it.”
3. These families held strong Christian beliefs. Across the top of many of the markers is carved the phrase “Zum Undenten An,” which in English roughly means “For the moment” … here lies the body of, which reflects their belief in the Christian Resurrection of the dead. At the base of many of the markers also is inscribed a brief Bible reference. One example is the grave of Leah Lovina (Conrad) Wetzel — of the family of Johan “George Wetzel — in Longswamp Cemetery, Berks County. The text reads “Psalm 73:23, 24, 25.” One has to actually look up the passage. The King James Version reads: “Nevertheless I am continually with thee: thou hast holden me by my right hand. Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory. Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee.”
4. Cousins of the 1800s and early 1900s were fluent in both German and English. As they evolved to English over time, names and spellings changed, potentially creating confusion for future generations and genealogy researchers like me. One example was the couple William and Caroline (Gaumer) Fuchs. William and two of their daughters became deathly ill in 1861. On Oct. 23, he succumbed at the age of 37, and the daughters followed him to the grave shortly after. All three were buried in Huff’s Union Church Cemetery, Berks County, with their grave markers inscribed in the old German script, their surnames written as “Fuchs.” Caroline outlived her husband and daughters by nearly a half-century. In June 1910, she died at the age of 79 after a stroke. Her name as inscribed on the grave marker was spelled the English way, “Fox,” on a stone located many rows away from his.
The pattern of language evolution was uneven. An example was the story of Nathan Alfred Leibensperger, of the family of Sarah “Sally” (Wetzel) Heimbach. At the age of 12, in 1886, he was confirmed in the family house of worship, Huff’s Reformed Church. In joining the congregation, as had his brothers David and William Henry in previous years, he received a confirmation schein (certificate), signed by the church pastor, Rev. Eli Keller. Unlike his brothers’ German certificates, his was printed entirely in English. But sadly, when he died in 1891 at the age of 16, his grave marker was inscribed in German.
5. Pennsylvania Germans placed an importance on maiden names. Many of the married women’s grave markers included such a reference. One example is the aforementioned “Sarah Heimbach, geborn Wetzel” found in the Huff’s Church Cemetery. It translates to “Sarah Heimbach, born Wetzel.” This practice continued even after stones began to be cut in English.
6. Pennsylvania Germans’ churches evolved beyond the traditional Lutheran, reflecting some of the cultural tensions of the time in the struggle over losing their identity. Certain Lutheran factions wanted their worship services to be in English rather than German and to do away with outdated practices. Some splintered off and formed their own Reformed church congregations but, alas, could not always afford their own buildings. Thus the two would share facilities and burying grounds even with different governing bodies and pastors.
Over time, these became known as “Union” churches and, at some point, some of the Reformed congregations merged with the Church of Christ. This led to all sorts of confusion over governance issues. One example is the case of cousin Victor Franklin Fegely (1876-1941), of the family of Jesse Fegley. Circa 1923, Victor served as secretary of the joint congregations of the Longswamp Church. He also helped to formally incorporate a Union Cemetery Board, and was named in the association’s By-Laws, Rules and Regulations booklet.
7. While some of Elizabeth Meinert Gaumer’s children migrated into Ohio, many more chose to stay in Berks and Lehigh Counties. After the span of a dozen generations, their offspring are still there. In the hundreds. In the thousands. Or more, all living in the region today.
8. Despite the image of Germans as iron-willed and stoic, they were filled with emotion, especially in grief. One of the more poignant examples is shown by the grave marker for William “Henry” Leibensperger, of the Heimbach branch, who died at the age of 24 in 1885. The funeral text was based on Psalms 102: 24-25, a reference inscribed on the face of his marker. When looked up, the verse reads (King James Version): I said, O my God, take me not away in the midst of my days: thy years are throughout all generations. Of old hast thou laid the foundation of the earth: and the heavens are the work of thy hands.
9. Pennsylvania German cousins, like their counterparts from other cultures, suffered from anxiety, heartache and mental illnesses which seem familiar today. It was heartbreaking to research the story of Mertztown residents Hiram R. and Katie (Miller) Fegely of the Heinrich “Henry Harrison” Fegely branch after photographing their and their family’s grave markers. Sadly, infant son Henry died in 1894 and one-month-old son James in 1907. After Katie at age 33 began to show symptoms of mental/emotional depression, she was admitted to the Pennsylvania State Lunatic Hospital in Harrisburg, diagnosed with “Melancholia recurrent exhaustion” and spent the final nine months of her life in the institution. She succumbed to her illness on Oct. 6, 1908. Hiram lived for another 19 years. On Christmas Day 1927, he used a razor to slice the common femoral artery on his left thigh, about six inches above the knee, and proceeded to bleed to death. Their markers, in English, are in the St. Pauls Union Church Cemetery in Mertztown.
10. The speed and technology of collecting have changed vastly since Steinbeck’s time. My trip depended heavily on my smartphone. On Steinbeck’s voyage, photography was an afterthought, and their attempted images and especially films were unusable. Maps were based on data which were years old. The camera on my phone was essential for instantaneous confirmation that my pictures were sharp and well-composed. When I could not find graves that I knew should be in a given cemetery, I was able to query Minerd.com and FindAGrave.com on my phone to confirm names, details, relationships and others’ research. The GPS feature on my phone also made it easy for me to easily navigate the country roads, twists and turns to arrive precisely at the desired location in the time GPS had estimated. This also allowed me to move quickly through the cemeteries in the shortest span of time possible, allowing me to complete the walking and photography in 10 burying grounds in about 24 hours (afternoon on Saturday and morning on Sunday).
Berks/Lehigh County Churchyards Visited the Weekend of Sept. 21-22, 2019:
Longswamp United Church of Christ, Clay Road, Mertztown
Christian Congregation Church, a.k.a. St. Pauls Union Church, Barclay/Chestnut Streets, Mertztown
Huff’s Union Church, Conrad Road, Alburtis
Zion Lehigh Evangelical Lutheran Church, Spring Creek Road, Alburtis
Greenwood Cemetery, West Chew Street, Allentown – drive through only
Union-West End Cemetery, North 10th Street, Allentown – drive-through
Zion’s Evangelical Lutheran Church, Kings Highway, Old Zionsville
Old Zionsville United Church of Christ, Fountain Road, Old Zionsville
Upper Milford Mennonite Church, Zionsville
Solomon’s United Church of Christ, South Church Street, Macungie
It originally was published in the 1889 book, Portrait and Biographical Album of Vermilion and Edgar Counties Illinois, Vol. 1, by Chapman Brothers.
Visible are his home and barns, livestock, windmill, buggy and many more elements of farm life. The marking in the caption shows that the farm was located in Section 7, Township 18, Range 12.
William served in the 125th Illinois Infantry during the war. While on picket duty one day in Dallas, GA, he used his wits to elude capture by the enemy and was able to remain with his unit for the balance of the conflict. He returned to Illinois after his discharge and purchased a farm in Catlin Township, Vermilion County. He received a nearly full-page biographical profile in the 1889 history, which said:
He is actively engaged in tilling the soil and raising stock… as finely improved and well cultivated a farm as is to be found throughout the length and breadth of this rich agricultural region…. He of whom we write was the eldest of the family, and was bred to the life of a farmer, and habits of industry and frugality were early taught him by precept and example. He engaged in farming, tending sawmill, and in other occupations till he had obtained man’s estate, and in the spring of 1860 sought the fertile prairies of Vermilion County, this State, accompanied by his wife and child, with a view of establishing a home here permanently. He has since been a valued resident of Catlin Township, with the exception of the bitter years spent on Southern battlefields, when with true patriotism he heroically gave up home and tore himself from his loved ones to aid his country in the time of her greatest trial… [For] three long and weary years [he] served faithfully and efficiently through many hard campaigns and suffered the hardships and privations of a soldier’s life without a murmur… He owns 170 acres of choice, ell-tilled land, on which he has erected a fine set of buildings, including a roomy, substantially built residence, a view of which with the surrounding lawns, beautified by lovely shade trees, is an attractive addition to this volume…. Mr. Hawkins is a valued member of this community, and his loyalty to his country is as marked as in the days when he courageously took his life in his hands and marched forth to do battle for its honor and the preservation of its integrity.