By Joann M. Ringelstetter
In the spring of 2017, we returned to Ohio for our fifth 10-day photography trip in that beautiful and historical state. One of the subjects Ruth had researched was the history of Annie Oakley, so she had several locations marked having to do with this world famous sharpshooter. We spent the first two days photographing our way across Illinois and Indiana. On the third day, we crossed into Ohio and were soon in the Willowdell area, Annie's birthplace.
Annie Oakley was born Phoebe Ann Moses (or Mosey) on August 13, 1860. Her family called her Annie. According to the Annie Oakley Center Foundation, there has always been confusion over the family name. In fact, the historical sign at her birthplace said “Moses” and the one at her gravesite said “Mosey.”
Annie’s father Jacob fought at a very young age in the War of 1812. In 1848, at the age of 49, he married Susan Wise, who was 16 years old. Jacob and Susan were Quakers who came from Pennsylvania to settle on a farm in rural Darke County, Ohio, near the Indiana border. By 1865, they had nine children (two of whom died as infants). The photo below shows a simple memorial that marks the location where Annie was born.
Jacob and Susan worked hard to feed and clothe their family. They raised corn and wheat, which Jacob hauled 20 miles with a horse-drawn wagon to Bear’s Mill to be ground. Sometime during the winter of 1865, Jacob made this trip to purchase supplies and to have his grain ground. During the trip, a snowstorm blew in and Jacob struggled to get home. He fell ill with pneumonia from the overexposure to freezing temperatures and died on February 11, 1866 at the age of 66. When I discovered this fact about Bear’s Mill, I realized that we had visited the mill on a short 3-day trip to Ohio in 2004 on our way to see the Christmas lights at Clifton Mill.
At the time of Jacob’s death, Annie’s mother Susan was left with seven children, aged one to 14. Annie was only five years old. Susan moved the family to a smaller home and everyone pitched in to support the family. And then another tragedy hit. A mere 14 months after Jacob died, their oldest child, Mary Jane, died of tuberculosis 11 days before her 16th birthday. Susan didn’t have the money to pay Mary Jane’s doctor and funeral expenses, so she sold their pet milk cow.
Annie helped feed her family by trapping birds and small animals. Around age seven, she began using the muzzle-loading gun that had belonged to her father and discovered she had a natural talent for shooting. In fact, Annie was so good at shooting game that she was able to contribute financially to her family by selling it to the Katzenberger Brothers’ Grocery Store in Greenville. They distributed it to restaurants and hotels in Cincinnati. By the age of 15, Annie had paid off the mortgage on her family’s home.
On Thanksgiving Day, 1875, 15-year-old Annie was invited to participate in a shooting contest with champion marksman Frank E. Butler, who was in a traveling show in Cincinnati. Butler, in his mid-twenties, was astonished when Annie beat him by making 25 shots out of her 25 attempts, while he missed one of his 25 attempts. Not only did Annie win the shooting match, but she captured Frank’s heart. On August 23, 1876, they were married. Annie had just turned 16, the same age her mother was when she married Annie’s father.
In May 1882, Annie and Frank began performing together and Annie chose the stage name “Annie Oakley.” No one is sure about the origin of this name, but Oakley was a neighborhood in Cincinnati where she and Frank lived. For three years, either Frank received top billing or he and Annie shared it. In April 1885, Annie and Frank began performing in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show. Annie quickly became the star, with posters advertising her as “Champion Markswoman.” Frank was proud of his wife and gladly stepped back to manage her career and assist with her shooting tricks.
From 75 feet away, Annie could hit the thin edge of a playing card. She could also shoot off the end of a cigarette that Frank held between his lips and hit distant targets by looking at them in a mirror. From 90 feet, she could shoot the cork out of a bottle or put out a candle flame. If Frank tossed playing cards into the air, Annie could shoot holes in them before they hit the ground. At only five feet tall, and because of her talent and confidence, Annie earned the name “Little Sure Shot,” which was given to her by Sitting Bull, the Sioux (Lakota) leader.
Annie and Frank performed in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show for 16 seasons. They left the show in 1901 after a serious train accident injured Annie’s back. The couple continued to perform on a less demanding schedule, retiring from show business in 1913. In retirement, Annie spent her time giving shooting lessons to women, performing at charity events, and hunting (which she had enjoyed since she was a small child). On November 3, 1926, Annie died of pernicious anemia at the age of 66 (the same age at which her father had died).
At the time of Annie’s death, she and Frank had been happily married for fifty years. Frank was heartbroken and just stopped eating. He died 18 days after Annie on November 21, 1926. They are both buried in the Moses family plot in beautiful Brock Cemetery, about 8 miles from where Annie was born.
At Annie Oakley Park in Greenville, Ohio, the following quote is attributed to Annie Oakley, a Legend in Her Own Time - "Aim at a high mark and you'll hit it. No, not the first time, nor the second time and maybe not the third, but keep on aiming and keep on shooting for only practice will make you perfect. Finally you'll hit the bull's eye of success."
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Shunpiking To Heaven Backroads Blog
Showing posts with label cemeteries. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cemeteries. Show all posts
Sunday, April 26, 2020
Monday, September 9, 2019
The Kohlmann Cemetery Murder
By Phyllis Ringelstetter Buskager
(Note from Joann and Ruth: We are pleased to announce that our sister, Phyllis, will be joining us occasionally in telling the stories we love to share with you. We also plan to begin sharing some of our family history and photographs. We know you will enjoy reading her first blog post about a discovery she made recently in a local rural cemetery.)
Earlier this summer, Joann and I had a family photo session with our Aunts (our mother’s sisters). We’ve been meeting with them once or twice a year for the past few years to get their help in identifying the people and places in a large collection of family photos. A bonus is that the photos jog their memories about family stories and anecdotes! More recently, they have also been sharing a lot of family history information with us. The photo below shows our mother, Dorothy Barman (top left), with seven of her siblings, circa 1945.
Part of the family history that we recently received included information about farms in the Township of Springfield in Dane County, Wisconsin, where our grandparents grew up. On a drive that my husband Vern and I took to locate those farms after that photo review session, we came upon an interesting little cemetery. Vern knows that I’m always interested in the stories that are told in old cemeteries so he asked if I wanted to stop. And, of course, I did.
Right away we noticed the black granite Kohlmann Cemetery monument, indicating that the cemetery was established in 1848. As we walked through the small cemetery, we noticed a story on the back of the monument, which states that the cemetery actually has multiple names, including Methodist, Yankee, and Kohlmann Buckel Cemetery.
The back of the monument also indicates that the cemetery was created as the first cemetery in Springfield Township when a man named Charles Kohlmann was murdered near the spot he is buried. So, we walked around looking for his grave. Finding a black metal cross with his name on it, we noticed that it is somewhat unusual in that it actually says that he was murdered! His grave marker shows “Murd. 1848.”
When we got home that evening, I decided to see what information I could find about that murder, which occurred back in the mid-1800’s in this rural Wisconsin community. I located several different sources, including some newspaper articles and a document prepared by the township, which all told the same story. Charles and Wilhelmine Kohlmann and their four children came to America in 1847 from Prussia, Germany. After arriving in America, the Kohlmanns came to Springfield Township, bought some farmland from the US Government, and settled into a new log cabin on the land.
Soon after arriving in the area, Charles set out on foot for Milwaukee, Wisconsin, with a yoke of oxen and about $140 worth of gold coins. This was enough to buy a wagon and other necessities such as tools and household provisions. When Charles said goodbye to his family to leave for that lengthy on-foot trip, it proved to be the last time they saw him alive. And though his grave marker shows “Murd. 1848,” the articles and documents that I found indicate that he was actually murdered in October of 1847.
A local Madison newspaper article dated October 23, 1847 says that the oxen returned home without him on the afternoon of the day he left, which was Thursday, October 14. The article goes on to say that a search was initiated and it went on until the next Tuesday, when his body was found in some bushes about 100 feet off the road and less than two miles from his home. His throat had been cut and his money was gone.
The article concludes by saying that various circumstances cast suspicion upon a man named Jacob Gross, a Frenchman living in the area. Apparently, a search turned up the missing money in Jacob’s possession. The article writer also says he was informed that Gross had confessed. Jacob Gross was arrested and placed in the local jail, awaiting trial.
The second newspaper article that I located was from May, 1848. It summarized the results of the trial of The United States vs. Jacob Gross. It turns out that the jury, after a brief deliberation, acquitted Jacob Gross to the dismay of many who believed he was guilty of the dastardly deed. There is no information to indicate that anyone else was ever tried for the murder. Jacob Gross continued to live in the township and is actually buried in the Kohlmann cemetery several feet away from the grave of Charles Kohlmann.
When you’re out for a drive and come across an old country cemetery, stop and walk through it. You never know what stories may be told in those old cemeteries.
Happy Shunpiking!
Phyllis
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
(Note from Joann and Ruth: We are pleased to announce that our sister, Phyllis, will be joining us occasionally in telling the stories we love to share with you. We also plan to begin sharing some of our family history and photographs. We know you will enjoy reading her first blog post about a discovery she made recently in a local rural cemetery.)
Earlier this summer, Joann and I had a family photo session with our Aunts (our mother’s sisters). We’ve been meeting with them once or twice a year for the past few years to get their help in identifying the people and places in a large collection of family photos. A bonus is that the photos jog their memories about family stories and anecdotes! More recently, they have also been sharing a lot of family history information with us. The photo below shows our mother, Dorothy Barman (top left), with seven of her siblings, circa 1945.
Part of the family history that we recently received included information about farms in the Township of Springfield in Dane County, Wisconsin, where our grandparents grew up. On a drive that my husband Vern and I took to locate those farms after that photo review session, we came upon an interesting little cemetery. Vern knows that I’m always interested in the stories that are told in old cemeteries so he asked if I wanted to stop. And, of course, I did.
Right away we noticed the black granite Kohlmann Cemetery monument, indicating that the cemetery was established in 1848. As we walked through the small cemetery, we noticed a story on the back of the monument, which states that the cemetery actually has multiple names, including Methodist, Yankee, and Kohlmann Buckel Cemetery.
The back of the monument also indicates that the cemetery was created as the first cemetery in Springfield Township when a man named Charles Kohlmann was murdered near the spot he is buried. So, we walked around looking for his grave. Finding a black metal cross with his name on it, we noticed that it is somewhat unusual in that it actually says that he was murdered! His grave marker shows “Murd. 1848.”
When we got home that evening, I decided to see what information I could find about that murder, which occurred back in the mid-1800’s in this rural Wisconsin community. I located several different sources, including some newspaper articles and a document prepared by the township, which all told the same story. Charles and Wilhelmine Kohlmann and their four children came to America in 1847 from Prussia, Germany. After arriving in America, the Kohlmanns came to Springfield Township, bought some farmland from the US Government, and settled into a new log cabin on the land.
Soon after arriving in the area, Charles set out on foot for Milwaukee, Wisconsin, with a yoke of oxen and about $140 worth of gold coins. This was enough to buy a wagon and other necessities such as tools and household provisions. When Charles said goodbye to his family to leave for that lengthy on-foot trip, it proved to be the last time they saw him alive. And though his grave marker shows “Murd. 1848,” the articles and documents that I found indicate that he was actually murdered in October of 1847.
A local Madison newspaper article dated October 23, 1847 says that the oxen returned home without him on the afternoon of the day he left, which was Thursday, October 14. The article goes on to say that a search was initiated and it went on until the next Tuesday, when his body was found in some bushes about 100 feet off the road and less than two miles from his home. His throat had been cut and his money was gone.
The article concludes by saying that various circumstances cast suspicion upon a man named Jacob Gross, a Frenchman living in the area. Apparently, a search turned up the missing money in Jacob’s possession. The article writer also says he was informed that Gross had confessed. Jacob Gross was arrested and placed in the local jail, awaiting trial.
The second newspaper article that I located was from May, 1848. It summarized the results of the trial of The United States vs. Jacob Gross. It turns out that the jury, after a brief deliberation, acquitted Jacob Gross to the dismay of many who believed he was guilty of the dastardly deed. There is no information to indicate that anyone else was ever tried for the murder. Jacob Gross continued to live in the township and is actually buried in the Kohlmann cemetery several feet away from the grave of Charles Kohlmann.
When you’re out for a drive and come across an old country cemetery, stop and walk through it. You never know what stories may be told in those old cemeteries.
Happy Shunpiking!
Phyllis
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Monday, July 15, 2019
Ojibwa Mission Cemetery
By Joann M. Ringelstetter
Ruth and I usually take our longer photography trips in the spring because we love taking one or two-day trips around Wisconsin in the fall. However, in 2012, we decided to take a lengthy fall trip and one of the subjects on Ruth’s never-ending list was an old Ojibwa cemetery that she had stumbled on in her research. The only problem was that it was from an old historical list from the 1970s and the directions weren’t specific at all. They just said it was on a dirt road off an old highway.
Ruth is always very resourceful and a pretty good detective when it comes to figuring out where something might be located, so she took her best guess and we found the dead-end dirt road she had in mind. The road looked something like this fall color road scene from Wisconsin, only it was a much sunnier day. We slowly crept down the road looking carefully on both sides, but everything was so wooded, and we didn’t see any sign of the cemetery.
When we reached the end of the road, we were sitting in the car discussing which road we would try next if we didn’t find it on the way back from the dead end. As we were turning the car around, we saw a man in the yard of the house at the end of the road. We told him what we were looking for and he laughed and told us that we had driven right by it. He said that it was very hidden in the woods, but we would find it on the right side as we headed back down the road. Sure enough, it was there, but not easily spotted.
A simple homemade sign at the entrance stated that this was an area where a battle had taken place between the Chippewa (another name for Ojibwa) and the Sioux in 1840. It also said that the cemetery contained the graves of the chiefs of each tribe, buried facing each other, along with their tomahawks. There were a few traditional stones with names on them, but most of the grave markers were simple wooden crosses with no names. They were in rows that led to a large unadorned wooden cross.
As we walked among the crosses, it felt like we were standing on very sacred ground. We found ourselves whispering to each other. And we tried to determine where the two chiefs might be buried, but we couldn’t figure it out.
And then we noticed something we had never seen in any of the cemeteries we’ve visited over the years. Most of the crosses and gravestones had coins on top of them or around the base; lots of coins. We wondered what it could mean.
Although we didn’t have an understanding about this custom, we felt compelled to participate in it. So, I ran back to the car and gathered up some change. I returned to the cemetery and Ruth and I respectfully placed coins on some of the crosses. There was something about this place and the Native Americans who called this country their own before our ancestors arrived from Europe that touched our hearts.
In researching for this blog post, we found a bit of information about this custom. According to a cemetery director, there is an old superstition that if you leave a coin on a grave, the spirit will grant you a wish, such as wealth, love, or health. And if there are evil spirits around, they will be more interested in taking the coins than the soul of the deceased.
As we left the cemetery, we reflected on the Ojibwa Prayer that was posted on a sign at the entrance. In part, it said:
Oh, Great Spirit, whose voice I hear in the winds
And whose breath gives life to everyone,
Hear me.
Let me walk in beauty, and make my eyes ever
behold the red and purple sunsets.
Make my hands respect the things you have made.
And make my ears sharp so I may hear your voice.
Make me wise, so that I may understand what you
have taught my people and
the lessons you have hidden in each leaf
and each rock.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Ruth and I usually take our longer photography trips in the spring because we love taking one or two-day trips around Wisconsin in the fall. However, in 2012, we decided to take a lengthy fall trip and one of the subjects on Ruth’s never-ending list was an old Ojibwa cemetery that she had stumbled on in her research. The only problem was that it was from an old historical list from the 1970s and the directions weren’t specific at all. They just said it was on a dirt road off an old highway.
Ruth is always very resourceful and a pretty good detective when it comes to figuring out where something might be located, so she took her best guess and we found the dead-end dirt road she had in mind. The road looked something like this fall color road scene from Wisconsin, only it was a much sunnier day. We slowly crept down the road looking carefully on both sides, but everything was so wooded, and we didn’t see any sign of the cemetery.
When we reached the end of the road, we were sitting in the car discussing which road we would try next if we didn’t find it on the way back from the dead end. As we were turning the car around, we saw a man in the yard of the house at the end of the road. We told him what we were looking for and he laughed and told us that we had driven right by it. He said that it was very hidden in the woods, but we would find it on the right side as we headed back down the road. Sure enough, it was there, but not easily spotted.
A simple homemade sign at the entrance stated that this was an area where a battle had taken place between the Chippewa (another name for Ojibwa) and the Sioux in 1840. It also said that the cemetery contained the graves of the chiefs of each tribe, buried facing each other, along with their tomahawks. There were a few traditional stones with names on them, but most of the grave markers were simple wooden crosses with no names. They were in rows that led to a large unadorned wooden cross.
As we walked among the crosses, it felt like we were standing on very sacred ground. We found ourselves whispering to each other. And we tried to determine where the two chiefs might be buried, but we couldn’t figure it out.
And then we noticed something we had never seen in any of the cemeteries we’ve visited over the years. Most of the crosses and gravestones had coins on top of them or around the base; lots of coins. We wondered what it could mean.
Although we didn’t have an understanding about this custom, we felt compelled to participate in it. So, I ran back to the car and gathered up some change. I returned to the cemetery and Ruth and I respectfully placed coins on some of the crosses. There was something about this place and the Native Americans who called this country their own before our ancestors arrived from Europe that touched our hearts.
In researching for this blog post, we found a bit of information about this custom. According to a cemetery director, there is an old superstition that if you leave a coin on a grave, the spirit will grant you a wish, such as wealth, love, or health. And if there are evil spirits around, they will be more interested in taking the coins than the soul of the deceased.
As we left the cemetery, we reflected on the Ojibwa Prayer that was posted on a sign at the entrance. In part, it said:
Oh, Great Spirit, whose voice I hear in the winds
And whose breath gives life to everyone,
Hear me.
Let me walk in beauty, and make my eyes ever
behold the red and purple sunsets.
Make my hands respect the things you have made.
And make my ears sharp so I may hear your voice.
Make me wise, so that I may understand what you
have taught my people and
the lessons you have hidden in each leaf
and each rock.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Wednesday, March 27, 2019
Indian Baby, 1854
By Joann M. Ringelstetter
Last September, on a beautiful autumn day, Ruth and I kicked off our annual fall photography with some exploring in Adams County, Wisconsin. One of the things we had on our list was the gravestone of a Native American baby on the shore of Petenwell Lake.
Ruth had stumbled on this unique gravestone in her research, so we just had to go check it out, but we didn’t know anything about it at the time. The gravestone sits inside a wrought iron fence and says simply “Indian Baby 1854.” After some additional research, I was thrilled to find a bit of history in the book entitled, “Weird Wisconsin: Your Travel Guide to Wisconsin’s Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets,” by Linda S. Godfrey and Richard D. Hendricks. According to the book, the original marker was wooden, but it was replaced by a stone marker after the original one was destroyed by vandals.
To add some historical context to this story, I studied the chronology of Adams County, which added meaning to this sad tale. In 1837, seventeen years before the death of this baby, the first non-Indian child was born on Fourteen Mile Creek in what would become Adams County. In that same year, the Wisconsin Ho-Chunk tribe was coerced into signing a treaty by which they gave up all their remaining land in Wisconsin.
From 1840 to 1844, federal troops attempted to force the Ho Chunk people out of central Wisconsin and onto reservations in Iowa. And in 1848, the Menominee Indians relinquished their rights to land in east central Wisconsin, including Adams County, which had been created that year by the Wisconsin Territorial Legislature.
Meanwhile, white settlers continued to arrive in Adams County. In 1850, the population (on both sides of the Wisconsin River) was 187 and the first post office was established at the Marsh House tavern, which had opened five years earlier. By 1852, all of Adams County had been surveyed and the land was ready for sale.
Now, back to the story of this little Indian baby which, according to the book “Weird Wisconsin,” comes from a pioneer woman named Emily Winters St. Clair. In 1854, she and her family traveled from Pennsylvania to settle in Wisconsin. As they made this difficult journey, their infant daughter died, so they buried her in Petenwell Lake as they crossed it to continue their journey to their new home.
Upon reaching the shore, Emily and her family heard the mournful cries of a grieving mother coming from a Native American campsite near the lakeshore. What they discovered was an Indian mother who had just lost an infant son. They decided to delay their travels to attend the burial of this little Indian baby.
Over the next six years, settlers continued to pour into Adams County. They built mills and schools, opened businesses, and created towns with post offices and courthouses. By 1860, the population of Adams County had increased to 6,492 (which is an increase of over 3,000% in just ten years). I have to assume that the Native American mother of this little baby boy was forced, along with her tribe, to leave central Wisconsin.
And what about the St. Clair family? Well, they settled in the area and Emily faithfully tended to the grave in honor of both the Native American boy and her little girl who both rest forever at Petenwell Lake.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Last September, on a beautiful autumn day, Ruth and I kicked off our annual fall photography with some exploring in Adams County, Wisconsin. One of the things we had on our list was the gravestone of a Native American baby on the shore of Petenwell Lake.
Ruth had stumbled on this unique gravestone in her research, so we just had to go check it out, but we didn’t know anything about it at the time. The gravestone sits inside a wrought iron fence and says simply “Indian Baby 1854.” After some additional research, I was thrilled to find a bit of history in the book entitled, “Weird Wisconsin: Your Travel Guide to Wisconsin’s Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets,” by Linda S. Godfrey and Richard D. Hendricks. According to the book, the original marker was wooden, but it was replaced by a stone marker after the original one was destroyed by vandals.
To add some historical context to this story, I studied the chronology of Adams County, which added meaning to this sad tale. In 1837, seventeen years before the death of this baby, the first non-Indian child was born on Fourteen Mile Creek in what would become Adams County. In that same year, the Wisconsin Ho-Chunk tribe was coerced into signing a treaty by which they gave up all their remaining land in Wisconsin.
From 1840 to 1844, federal troops attempted to force the Ho Chunk people out of central Wisconsin and onto reservations in Iowa. And in 1848, the Menominee Indians relinquished their rights to land in east central Wisconsin, including Adams County, which had been created that year by the Wisconsin Territorial Legislature.
Meanwhile, white settlers continued to arrive in Adams County. In 1850, the population (on both sides of the Wisconsin River) was 187 and the first post office was established at the Marsh House tavern, which had opened five years earlier. By 1852, all of Adams County had been surveyed and the land was ready for sale.
Now, back to the story of this little Indian baby which, according to the book “Weird Wisconsin,” comes from a pioneer woman named Emily Winters St. Clair. In 1854, she and her family traveled from Pennsylvania to settle in Wisconsin. As they made this difficult journey, their infant daughter died, so they buried her in Petenwell Lake as they crossed it to continue their journey to their new home.
Upon reaching the shore, Emily and her family heard the mournful cries of a grieving mother coming from a Native American campsite near the lakeshore. What they discovered was an Indian mother who had just lost an infant son. They decided to delay their travels to attend the burial of this little Indian baby.
Over the next six years, settlers continued to pour into Adams County. They built mills and schools, opened businesses, and created towns with post offices and courthouses. By 1860, the population of Adams County had increased to 6,492 (which is an increase of over 3,000% in just ten years). I have to assume that the Native American mother of this little baby boy was forced, along with her tribe, to leave central Wisconsin.
And what about the St. Clair family? Well, they settled in the area and Emily faithfully tended to the grave in honor of both the Native American boy and her little girl who both rest forever at Petenwell Lake.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Thursday, April 12, 2018
St John’s Church and Cemetery
By Ruth A. Ringelstetter
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes. Just click on the desired photo and look for the blue “BUY” button.
It was the third morning of our 2010 trip to North Carolina, but our first morning there in the mountains. It was raining heavily that morning as we arrived at our first stop -- the historic Mast General Store.
As soon as we finished at the store, we moved on. Our next stop was the historic St. John’s Episcopal Church and Cemetery. It was still raining a little when we arrived at the church, but at least it wasn’t pouring.
The little frame church, built in the Gothic style, with simple stained glass windows was completed in 1860. William West Skiles, who was a deacon, was the driving force behind the building of the church. The church was completed for a cost of $700, including $40 paid for the stained glass windows, shipped in from New York.
The church was consecrated two years later in August of 1862. This celebration was the last time William Skiles would see his beloved church as his health was failing and he died two short months later. He was buried in the churchyard.
In 1882, the church was removed in sections to a spot higher up on the Watauga River, and put together again. This is the spot where the church stands today. In 1889, the remains of Reverend Skiles were removed from the old site and moved to the new church and cemetery location.
Even though it was a rainy morning, we knew this could be our only visit to this church, so Joann made her way around the church photographing as she went. Behind the church, and unseen from the road, stands an old outhouse.
From the cemetery, you can look off into the Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance. The cemetery is small, but it is one of the oldest in the area.
The church went through several decades of neglect before it was totally restored and now is used for a Sunday mass from Memorial Day to Labor Day, as well as being a wedding venue. Summer concerts are also held in the church with a picnic supper afterwards.
Just across the road from the church was an old gambrel-roof barn. There didn’t appear to be any other remnants of a farm, and we just couldn’t resist taking some photos before moving on down the road.
If you get to the Valle Crucis area, be sure to do some backroads exploring. It would be well worth your time!
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes. Just click on the desired photo and look for the blue “BUY” button.
It was the third morning of our 2010 trip to North Carolina, but our first morning there in the mountains. It was raining heavily that morning as we arrived at our first stop -- the historic Mast General Store.
As soon as we finished at the store, we moved on. Our next stop was the historic St. John’s Episcopal Church and Cemetery. It was still raining a little when we arrived at the church, but at least it wasn’t pouring.
The little frame church, built in the Gothic style, with simple stained glass windows was completed in 1860. William West Skiles, who was a deacon, was the driving force behind the building of the church. The church was completed for a cost of $700, including $40 paid for the stained glass windows, shipped in from New York.
The church was consecrated two years later in August of 1862. This celebration was the last time William Skiles would see his beloved church as his health was failing and he died two short months later. He was buried in the churchyard.
In 1882, the church was removed in sections to a spot higher up on the Watauga River, and put together again. This is the spot where the church stands today. In 1889, the remains of Reverend Skiles were removed from the old site and moved to the new church and cemetery location.
Even though it was a rainy morning, we knew this could be our only visit to this church, so Joann made her way around the church photographing as she went. Behind the church, and unseen from the road, stands an old outhouse.
From the cemetery, you can look off into the Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance. The cemetery is small, but it is one of the oldest in the area.
The church went through several decades of neglect before it was totally restored and now is used for a Sunday mass from Memorial Day to Labor Day, as well as being a wedding venue. Summer concerts are also held in the church with a picnic supper afterwards.
Just across the road from the church was an old gambrel-roof barn. There didn’t appear to be any other remnants of a farm, and we just couldn’t resist taking some photos before moving on down the road.
If you get to the Valle Crucis area, be sure to do some backroads exploring. It would be well worth your time!
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Tuesday, February 13, 2018
The Red Balloon
By Joann M. Ringelstetter
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes. Just click on the desired photo and look for the blue “BUY” button.
In the late 60’s, we used to watch a TV program called CBS Children’s Film Festival, which featured children’s films from around the world. The show was hosted by Kukla, Fran, and Ollie (actress Fran Allison and puppets Kukla and Ollie).
I used to love that show but, surprisingly, the only film that stuck with me over the years was the 1956 Oscar-winning children’s film, “The Red Balloon.” This 34-minute film, which contains almost no dialogue, follows the adventures of a young boy who finds a red balloon in the streets of Paris on his way to school. The balloon seems to take a fancy to young Pascal and follows him everywhere, as if it has a mind of its own.
In the spring of 2017, on a photography trip to northern Ohio, Ruth and I decided to explore Cleveland’s historic Riverside Cemetery. Established in 1876 on 102.5 acres overlooking the Cuyahoga River, Riverside Cemetery was the first major-sized, non-sectarian, burial park established west of the Cuyahoga River. We arrived at dawn and, before we could even begin to explore the grounds, a steady rain began to fall.
There are many roads throughout this cemetery, so we chose one directly across from the entrance. The first thing we came to was the Urn Garden, set against a wooded hillside.
As I got out of the car into the rain to capture a few shots of the Urn Garden, we noticed that a group of deer were lounging and eating in the garden.
Beyond the Urn Garden was a section of the cemetery called Babyland. Burial grounds such as these always bring a sadness to my heart. So, I got out of the car to walk in the rain and contemplate.
Just then, way off in the distance, a red heart-shaped mylar balloon floated over the hill. In my contemplation, I hadn’t noticed it, but Ruth did. It was so far away that she had to look at it with her binoculars to see what it was. As she did this, she saw that it was floating in our direction. So, she pointed it out to me.
The wind had begun to pick up and gravesite decorations were beginning to move and spin. Miniature windchimes were ringing in the wind and rain. The little Muppet at the base of a colorful pinwheel seemed to be hanging on as the pinwheel rotated in the wind.
And all the while, the red heart-shaped balloon picked up speed as it floated on the wind toward us. It seemed to have a mind of its own, just like “The Red Balloon” in the children’s movie that I mentioned at the start of this story. I watched the red balloon with fascination as it floated down to the ground in front of me as if to greet me and eventually came to rest in the branches above me.
Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and whatever you’re doing, celebrating or not, Ruth and I wish you an enjoyable day!
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes. Just click on the desired photo and look for the blue “BUY” button.
In the late 60’s, we used to watch a TV program called CBS Children’s Film Festival, which featured children’s films from around the world. The show was hosted by Kukla, Fran, and Ollie (actress Fran Allison and puppets Kukla and Ollie).
I used to love that show but, surprisingly, the only film that stuck with me over the years was the 1956 Oscar-winning children’s film, “The Red Balloon.” This 34-minute film, which contains almost no dialogue, follows the adventures of a young boy who finds a red balloon in the streets of Paris on his way to school. The balloon seems to take a fancy to young Pascal and follows him everywhere, as if it has a mind of its own.
In the spring of 2017, on a photography trip to northern Ohio, Ruth and I decided to explore Cleveland’s historic Riverside Cemetery. Established in 1876 on 102.5 acres overlooking the Cuyahoga River, Riverside Cemetery was the first major-sized, non-sectarian, burial park established west of the Cuyahoga River. We arrived at dawn and, before we could even begin to explore the grounds, a steady rain began to fall.
There are many roads throughout this cemetery, so we chose one directly across from the entrance. The first thing we came to was the Urn Garden, set against a wooded hillside.
As I got out of the car into the rain to capture a few shots of the Urn Garden, we noticed that a group of deer were lounging and eating in the garden.
Beyond the Urn Garden was a section of the cemetery called Babyland. Burial grounds such as these always bring a sadness to my heart. So, I got out of the car to walk in the rain and contemplate.
Just then, way off in the distance, a red heart-shaped mylar balloon floated over the hill. In my contemplation, I hadn’t noticed it, but Ruth did. It was so far away that she had to look at it with her binoculars to see what it was. As she did this, she saw that it was floating in our direction. So, she pointed it out to me.
The wind had begun to pick up and gravesite decorations were beginning to move and spin. Miniature windchimes were ringing in the wind and rain. The little Muppet at the base of a colorful pinwheel seemed to be hanging on as the pinwheel rotated in the wind.
And all the while, the red heart-shaped balloon picked up speed as it floated on the wind toward us. It seemed to have a mind of its own, just like “The Red Balloon” in the children’s movie that I mentioned at the start of this story. I watched the red balloon with fascination as it floated down to the ground in front of me as if to greet me and eventually came to rest in the branches above me.
Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and whatever you’re doing, celebrating or not, Ruth and I wish you an enjoyable day!
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
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