Not much is known about my 2nd great-grandfather, Silas H. Logan. As I wrote on his son’s blog, James Lemuel Logan, from the History of Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania Genealogy Memoirs – Illustrated – Vol. II
“Silas Logan, father of James L. Logan, of Vandergrift, born about 1825, in Corry, Erie county, Pennsylvania, and as a young man went to Wisconsin, then situated on the frontier. He settled among the Indians, but after a shore time returned to Pennsylvania, having made both the outward and homeward trips by wagon. On his return he settled in Titusville, where he engaged in the oil business, later removing to Blairsville, where he did some oil prospecting. Subsequently he took up his abode in Greensburg, and some time in the eighties went to Detroit, where he has since resided on a farm in the suburbs. Mr. Logan married Elizabeth Rowan, and the following are their children: James L., see forward: Henry, head bookkeeper for the American Harrow Company, of Detroit: Elsie, and Lena, both at home.”
Although the above article says he was born in Pennsylvania, five of the census records say he was born in New York, while his death record says Ohio. Regardless, he was born to Lemuel H. Logan and Lois Louise Bean on 10 Mar 1833. He was the second child of eight whole siblings and four half-siblings. By age four, they had moved to Pennsylvania from New York, where five of his siblings were born by the time he was 16.
At the age of 17, his sister Mary Jane died. She was only 4 yrs, 5 mos. and 18 days old. Seven days later, his brother Herman died as well. He was just 7 months old. We don’t know why they died, although there was an influenza epidemic during that year.
Two years later, his brother Ryland was born. Silas was 19. Just twenty-four days later, his mother, Lois, dies. We can only guess that she had difficulty recovering after the birth of Ryland. This same year, 1852, there was a Yellow Fever epidemic.
Records show that in 1859, Silas married my 2nd great-grandmother, Sarah Elizabeth Rowan, in Wisconsin when she was 16. Here is where our great-grandfather, Lemuel, was born. Silas farmed land with his in-laws for about a year before moving to Pennsylvania to begin working for the railroad. The 1870 census shows him as an engineer living in Oil Creek, Pennsylvania, on his sister-in-law’s family’s land (John Bean married Clara Armitage, and they owned Oil Creek). His other brother, Stephen, is shown as an “Oil Producer” in the same area and time period.
In 1879, his daughter Birdie was born in New York. A year later, they are back in Pennsylvania. The census shows he only worked the railroad 6 months out of the year, so he must have been doing the oil prospecting the other 6 months, traveling back and forth by wagon during this time.
By the 1900s, Silas and his family were farming in Michigan, and they remained there until he died of bronchopneumonia in 1917 at age 84.He is buried at Union Corners Cemetery in Troy, Oakland County, Michigan.
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My 2nd Great Grandfather- This is one gentleman whom I wish I had the honor of meeting. Those strong Wescott genes are surely evident in this man. I warn you, this is one of my longer blogs. How can you shorten a man’s life with two full-time careers and several business ventures in his 86 years? Did you know he designed many things still used in the Coast Guard today?
You will also see in many articles where Wescott is spelled Westcott. In my research, I had to learn to put in varied spellings (Wescott, Westcott, Westcoat, Weskitt)
John Thomas Wescott was born on August 31, 1853, in Currituck, North Carolina, his father, John, was 28, and his mother, Lovie, was 21. He had an older brother, William, born the year and a half before. His sister, Matilda Mann Wescott, was born when he was two. His brother Josiah Holley Wescott was born when “Little JT” was four years old.
Wescott Family Bible Sent to Virginia Spence Westlake from Mabel Wescott Martin Spring 1989
Copyright 1829
His father was a fisherman, and John started attending school when he was 6 years old. Unfortunately, his brother, William, died at the young age of 8 years old when JT was only 7. A year later, another brother came along, Charles Davis Wescott.
Around that year, the American Civil War came to North Carolina. JT recalls the Burnside Expedition, The Battle of Roanoke Island. In a newspaper article dated June 1, 1939, he states his father became a prisoner because they harbored two injured Confederate soldiers. In the article below, he refers to Virginia Dare, the first English-born child in the Americas. We, my genealogical cousins and I have been unable to find any record of John Sr. being a POW, but that does not mean he wasn’t one. It could have been an overnight stay in jail, or he had to pay a fine, or he was part of the prisoner exchange.
When John was 10, his sister Virginia Caroline was born. Three years later, another brother, Obediah Jennings, was born, and three years after that, Robert Edward Lee was born. By this time, JT was 16 years old.
He engaged in the Life Saving Service as a Surfman in the Nags Head Station- then known as No. 7- at 22 and served there for 5 years.
John Thomas Wescott married Lovey C. Tillett (his 3rd cousin) in Dare, North Carolina, on October 19, 1876, when he was 23. Lovey was just 16. A year later, their daughter, Dora D. Wescott, was born. Sadly, Lovey died just 11 months later. There is no death certificate on her, but many think she had complications with her birth and could not overcome them. John found himself with a new career, farming land, and a widow with an 11-month-old baby.
In 1880, his Aunt, Sabra Hackett, is shown as living with him and helping him raise Dora. With the help of his aunt, his career started thriving, and his brothers soon joined him.
Left: Charles Davis Wescott. The three men above right are Edgar Chadwick, Obadiah Wescott, and John Thomas Wescott. (Edgar is Martha Chadwick’s brother)
updated 11/25/17 due to another picture of Edgar being found
Josiah Holly Wescott
This same year, John’s position is shown as a boatswain of the Revenue Cutter, delivering supplies to the life-saving stations along the coast. He served in this position for 6 years. (A Boatswain is a ship’s officer in charge of equipment and the crew.)
By 1883, he married Martha Ann Chadwick, our ancestor, when she was 18 and John was 30. They had five children, plus Dora. A year after the marriage, his father died.
I see a lot of Wescott features in her, so I guess they’re Chadwick features!
By 1884, John was shown in Branson’s North Carolina Business Directory as the proprietor of the Wescott Hotel in Roanoke Island, NC. This same directory shows WD Chaddic (Martha’s father) as a lawyer in Manteo. It also shows he owns the Manteo Hotel in Manteo. We do not know much about the hotel he owned besides what is in the directory.
This same year, they moved to Elizabeth City, and his daughter Laura Chadwick Wescott was born.
In 1887, he was appointed Keeper of the Poyner’s Hill Lifesaving Station at the rate of $700.00 per year.
John T. Wescott’s Poyner’s Hill Lifesaving badge.
During his tenure here, he helped to save over twenty-five lives, all under very difficult and perilous conditions.
This same beach is owned by the Currituck Shooting Club. It was an exclusive club for hunters of fowl from all over. The fees were $3,000 to $5,000 a year. You can read more about the club here. I do not believe the Wescott’s were members, but the lifesaving station was on land owned by the Shooting Club. In fact, when Mary was younger, she wrote this letter to the St. Nicholas Magazine: An Illustrated Book For Young Folks by Mary Mapes Dodge.
In Albert Wescott Sr.’s things were some pictures of the club.
The Currituck Shooting Club owned the land where the Poyners Hill Lifesaving Sation was constructed. The shooting club, one of the oldest of its kind, burned to the ground in 2003, destroying valuable guns and artifacts about members such as J P Morgan and William Vanderbilt.
The Wescott name is written in the US Coast Guard’s website archives numerous times. I wrote to them after discovering there was an article written on John Thomas. Click on the link below to read what was sent to me from their archives.
A year later, Albert Read Wescott, Sr. was born in Poyner’s Hill. A year after that, in 1889, JT’s brother, Charles, was murdered.
Capt. C. D. Wescott of the steamer Cleopatra was stabbed in the shoulder by Mordica Hudson at Trenton, Jones County, last Saturday night. Causes: whiskey. The parties got into a dispute, ending in a fight, and Hudson stabbed Wescott in the shoulder with a knife, severing an artery, from which Wescott bled to death in an hour. ~December 12, 1889 The Tarborough Southerner from Tarboro, North Carolina · Page 1
The trial of Mordecai Hudson for the killing of Capt. Charles D. Wescott last November, at Trenton, was begun at Trenton on Tuesday morning, and Hudson was sentenced by the Judge to five years in the penitentiary. ~April 8, 1890 The Progressive Farmer from Winston-Salem, North Carolina · Page 3
All the Wescott brothers attended the trial.
Mary Yuela was born that same year, and Cora Virginia a few years later. I have never been able to determine where the name Yeula came from. The closest I found was that it could be an Indian word meaning Upward slope.
And in 1890, his son, Albert, was diagnosed with polio.
In 1892, John designed the box for Coston signals.
The Surfmen were supplied with appropriate clothing and boots, a lantern, a Coston Signal Kit, and a Surfman’s brass badge or token on which was noted his station and number. The Coston Signal was not unlike today’s flare gun and was to be used as a warning device when necessary. It was the duty of the Surfman to constantly look seaward as he walked, looking for ships in distress. If he saw a vessel that was headed into danger, he fired a Coston Signal in the hope the master of the ship would realize his error and turn seaward. If the vessel was already in the process of foundering, the signal was deployed to indicate they had been discovered and help was on the way. In such a circumstance, it was critical that the patrolman take accurate note of the circumstances and quickly return to the station to apprise the Keeper of the details. Accurate information was essential to allow the Keeper to decide what apparatus should be transported to the scene.
~History of The U.S. Life-Saving Service – III, Life At The Station by Tom Wimbrow
By 1900, JT was Secretary and Treasurer of the newly founded North Carolina Surfman’s Mutual Benefit Association, and JT designed a Cartouch Box.
Similar to this one
In researching his designs, I discovered that the Coston Signal was invented by a woman, MADAME MARTHA J. COSTON.
I am unsure if this is the box John designed, but it must be similar. These designs are still used in the military services as of this day.
His mother died in 1902, and Mabel Agassiz Wescott was born shortly afterward. Her middle name has always fascinated me, so I researched. Alexander Agassiz made three expeditions aboard the Albatross to collect specimens, explore the ocean depths, and study coral islands and reefs. John was such a lover of the sea and ships, so maybe he named her after Alexander.
Captain John Wescott is second to the right, standing, and Captain Josiah Wescott is second to the right, sitting.
In 1903, the Wright Brothers came calling to the Kill Devils Hill Life Saving Station in Kitty Hawk. Although family lore states that John T. was taking a nap during the flight, it is undocumented that he was there. However, his brothers and cousins were.
In “Conquering the Sky” by Larry E. Tise, several Keepers are mentioned along with Robert L. Wescott and others listed below. Read some here.
Commanded by Capt. Jesse Etheridge Ward (possible cousin), the surfmen;
Will S. Dough (another possible cousin),
Adam D. Etheridge (father-in-law of 5th great-grandmother),
Bob L. Wescott (John T’s brother),
Tom Beacham (another cousin),
“Uncle Benny” O’Neal and,
click —> John T. Daniels (our 1st cousin 3x removed- married Amanda Wescott, John T’s Aunt!) He is now famous for taking the first picture of the Wright Brother’s flight, and for a few “minutes, though unconventional, Daniels “flew” with the flyer, becoming the third man to fly in the Wright Flyer and the first man to be involved in an airplane accident.”
In 1909, his brother, Josiah, died while working as a Captain in the New Inlet Life Saving Station. He had served at the station since 1894. He had a heart attack while waiting for the mail boat in Rodanthe. The postmaster sent for Keeper Midgett, who brought other surfmen. The crew respectively escorted him back to Manteo, where he lived. All drills were ceased for the day.
Martha, Captain Wescott, and Mabel in 1910.
In 1915, the U.S. Revenue Cutter Service and the U.S. Lifesaving Service were merged to form a new agency, the U.S. Coast Guard. In 1939, the Coast Guard absorbed the U.S. Lighthouse Service, and by 1946, it had also absorbed the Steamboat Inspection Service.
Two years later, in 1917, at age 63, Captain John Thomas Wescott retired. I have a feeling if he was not made to retire, he would have continued in the Coast Guard. But retirement did not stop JT. On to another career…
Captain Wescott moved his family to Wayneville, North Carolina, better known as Lake Junaluska, by the next year. During this time, the Lake Junaluska Assembly, Inc. was being established. The Laymen’s Missionary Movement was created in 1908. The Second General Missionary Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, was held at Lake Junaluska on June 25-29, 1913, and this constituted the official opening of the Southern Assembly.
Chief Junaluska, for whom the Assembly, community, and adjoining mountain are named, was a Cherokee chief among the exiles of 1838. It is said that his name was originally Tsunulahunski or Gulkalaski. He fought under Jackson in the War of 1812 and saved the General’s life at the Battle of Horse Shoe Bend; in later life, he was quoted as saying that if he had known Jackson would drive his people from their home, he would not have saved his life at the Bend. He was the friend of the white man and so remained even after the deportation. Junaluska died on November 20, 1858, when he was over a hundred years old. He and his wife, Nicie, are buried near Robbinsville, North Carolina, where their graves are surrounded by an iron fence and a bronze tablet erected in 1910 bears an inscription that recites his story and service to the State and nation.
Despite the program’s excellence and the collection’s success, the Southern Assembly in 1913 seems to have been a dismal place. The lake had not been filled, and early attendants spoke of mud all over the place and walking across the dry lake bed where a corn crop was being harvested.
Most people stayed at Waynesville, and the Southern Railway ran a shuttle train back and forth. Hand baggage could be carried, but wagons had to be found to transport trunks and heavy luggage. Captain Wescott was in the right place at the right time, for the first passenger boat was put on the lake, operated by Captain Wescott, and was named “Unagusta.” Captain Wescott started his new career at age 64. A boat was built to ply the lake and transport visitors from the railway station to the Terrace Hotel. Captain Wescott, who for a period was manager of the Terrace. The name was later changed to Cherokee; this boat became obsolete, and in 1952, the Cherokee II was built. ~Source: “Junaluska Jubilee: A short history of the Lake Junaluska Assembly, Inc. on the occasion of its Fiftieth Anniversary.”
Photos in possession of Marlee Logan passed down by Albert Read Wescott, Sr. to Sharon Wescott Gibbs.
Lake Junaluska and The Cherokee about 1920.
The Cherokee boathouse.
Captain Wescott, Albert Read Wescott Jr. with Bucky, Mary W sitting 1919-20
1920s -Rebecca Carver: My father had a dairy farm, and we furnished the milk that went to the families at the Assembly. They didn’t have swimming pools in the 1920 ‘s and ’30s, so the Assembly let Camp Junaluska, which was above Long’s Chapel United Methodist church, build boat docks and let us go swimming in the lake just down below the depot station. That’s how I learned to swim. Captain Wescott owned the Cherokee Inn, and he was a very good friend of my father. Back then, the children and youth stayed fully clothed until they got to the bath house, and then they went into a little room and changed into a bathing suit. Well, we didn’t have the ten or fifteen cents to pay for that little room, so Captain Wescott let us have a boat. We’d go out on that little boat and change into our bathing suits, and go over to swim near the bath house. Then we’d go back out in the boat and change back into our clothes, and then bring the boat back to Captain Wescott. He was a very dear friend.
About 1923, the annual election of the Queen of Junaluska was inaugurated. The first queen was Miss Mabel Wescott, daughter of Captain Wescott, and with three exceptions, there was an annual election thereafter. The crowning was always an important social event, preceded in the afternoon by a boat pageant in which the Queen, her court, and many other young people rode in boats towed by the Cherokee. As recalled by one resident, “Closely related to the coronation ceremonies is the water pageant. This is usually set for the day of the crowning of the Queen. The decorated boats are as beautiful as delicate petals drifting on a quiet stream. Everyone in the community gathers along the lake shore or in the reviewing stand at the boathouse to see the prize floats go by. In former years, Captain Wescott, with a big Cherokee boat, drew all the decorated craft, tied together like a giant daisy chain, before the reviewing stand. Along the shore and upon the green lawn near the auditorium, Junaluska neighbors and visiting friends gather annually to watch the water sports.”
As written in “The Waynesville Mountaineer” on June 16, 1926:
“The Cherokee,” a picture courtesy of the Spence/Wescott family. Circa 1920.
1923, John ran a hotel, and in 1926, at age 76, Captain Wescott was still going strong. The Duke Alumni held their reunion at Lake Junaluska, where the Captain took them on a tour of the lake before their retreat.
In 1925, his brother, Captain Robert E. Lee, died in Kitty Hawk from thoracic actinomycosis, which he had suffered since 1918. Two years later, his sister Matilda died of a ruptured gall bladder in Virginia.
Back Row: Mabel A. Wescott, Cora Wescott Spence, Mary Y. Wescott, John Albert Coggins, Laura Wescott Coggins Middle Row: Ruby Wescott (holding dau. Jean) Albert R. Wescott, Martha Ann Chadwick Wescott, Capt. John Thomas Wescott Front Row: Albert R. Wescott, Jr., (son of Ruby & Albert, Sr) Mary Virginia Spence,
On December 26, 1933, Captain Wescott, age 80, and Martha, age 68, celebrated their Golden Wedding Anniversary.
Two years later, Martha died of a kidney disorder. (Chronic valvular disease, chronic nephritis)
1938- John Thomas Wescott, Jr., Albert Read Wescott, Sr., Albert Read Wescott, Jr.
In June of 1939, at age 85, Captain Wescott began “grooming” for his 22nd season with the Cherokee. Among Ruby and Albert Wescott, Sr.’s are two original newspaper articles. One of which I’ve agreed to give our cousin, descendant of Josiah Holly, for the archives in North Carolina. Although he lived in Norfolk, VA, he would come to Lake Junaluska during the summers.
WHEREAS, the Wescott Family arrived in Currituck, North Carolina ( Manteo was a part of Currituck County until 1870 ) in 1755, and Stuckley Wescott believed to be the first Wescott in 1635 to arrive in America; and WHEREAS, the Wescotts were one of 7 original families that settled on Roanoke Island, and donated one acre in 1870 for the Old Courthouse in downtown Manteo.” WHEREAS, the Wescotts were hardworking people, farmers, seamen, postmasters, fishermen, boat builders, merchants, hunters, and guides, the most famous job of the Wescott men is they served as Lifesavers and served the highest rank, Keepers of the Stations. Later many joined the Coast Guard and served for years. And
WHEREAS, the Wescotts were known for their sense of humor, it was said in the Observer June 19, 1878, “Practical jokers, general rule they obey the Bible” and are proud of their heritage and contributions to the Town of Manteo.
WHEREAS, on July 7, 1899 the “Fisherman and Farmer” stated that Josiah Holly Wescott was “an all around good fellow and we are proud to have such a man in a humane service watching and rescuing the imperiled when in shipwreck”.
NOW THEREFORE BE IT PROCLAIMED on behalf of the humble members of the Wescott Family, that I Jamie Daniels, Mayor of the Town of Manteo, and on behalf of the Board of Commissioners, do hereby recognize October 28, 2017 as the “Wescott Family Day”.
On October 28, 2017 there was the first Wescott’s of Manteo Family Reunion. Unfortunately, I could not attend, but hope to next year. With information from myself, Lou Ellen Daniels (4th cousin; descendant of Josiah Holly Wescott), Juanita Wescott (wife of my 2nd cousin, Colon Wayne Wescott; descendant of Josiah Holly Wescott), and others from the descendant’s of Captain John Thomas Wescott’s brothers, cousins were brought together to discuss their Wescott heritage.
Below are the pages of JT’s siblings displayed at the reunion with contributions from each family.
They visited the cemetery being preserved in the middle of the Manteo Airport. The stone on the outside of the white fence is John Wescott’s headstone (my 3rd great grandfather), Captain JT’s father. Wescott Cemetery
From the Wescott Cemetery link above, you will see that several markers are unclear. This is what Juanita wrote to me after her visit there.
“Theo Fitzpatrick was a confederate soldier. His grave is clear. Many of the grave sites are cement slabs, put there by the government in WWII , about 1940. They say there are slaves buried here. We have been told that some stones were removed and thrown away. William Wescott saw them at the end of a road used as a dump, then one day they disappeared. Also, Malcolm Fearing told me the same story as he was told by his father, Keith Fearing. I believe they were Barbry and John “Jackie” and others as I see Barbry still living beside John and Lovie in 1850 on the census. I can’t find the brothers and sisters of John “Wellington” anywhere. We keep the name Wellington just to differentiate between the Johns. Don’t know where it came from. I only find the name John in signed documents and historical records.”
The “Wellington” reference is from a discussion I had with Juanita and Lou Ellen as to Captain JT’s father, John. Many people refer to his middle name being “Wellington”, but we’ve never had any proof of that and in a newspaper article, John Thomas refers to his father as John T. Wescott, Sr.
Uncle Read will have to go with me next October. I have a feeling he and his third cousin, Wilton Wescott, would get along famously!
Wilton is an amazing photographer, Wilton C. Photography (view his site), but his life is the Salt Life for sure.
Juanita said, “My favorite moment from the reunion was when the three oldest Wescott men from three of John Thomas’ brothers met for the first time. They were all raised here on the same 12 mile island but did not know each other. “
Charles Wescott (99 yrs old), William Wescott, and Roy Wescott.
The next reunion is the third weekend of October 2018. Who’s going with me?
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Sometimes a person carries a whole world inside them—memories of language, land, loss, hope. One of those people in our family was my 2nd great-grandmother, Marija Švegelj, known in the U.S. as Mary Swegel. Her life bridges two worlds: the rugged past of Gottschee and the new land she came to love.
Roots in Gottschee, Childhood in Change
Marija was born on November 19, 1867, in Stari Trg ob Kolpi, Slovenia. Her dad, Jožef Švegelj, was about 20; her mother, Marija Koce, was 27. She wasn’t alone for long—she had a younger sister, Katarina, born in 1870, and brothers Jožef and Peter.
When Marija was nine, tragedy struck: her mother died in June 1877. Little Katarina had already died earlier. Her father, just 30, was left with three children under the age of ten. Only two months later, he married again—to another Marija (Marija Sterk)—and together they had seven more children. Change came early in Marija’s life; responsibility, too.
Both sides of Marija’s family were Gottscheers—her mother’s Koce and Fugina families; her father’s second wife’s Sterk line; her grandmother’s Ilić line. Gottschee wasn’t just a place; it was a patchwork of culture, dialect, and a sense of identity folded into every conversation at home.
Crossing Borders, Holding Identity
Though several of Marija’s siblings immigrated in the late 1890s, she stayed. She came over in 1914, after her children were already in America. By then, the world she was born into had twisted: Austria became something else; political crises bubbled; states shifted. Identity was being reshaped fast—not always by choice.
Gottschee was German-speaking, settled long ago under the Habsburgs, but with the fall of empires and the rise of new nations, what “home” meant got complicated. Borders changed; citizenship changed. But family stories, language at the dinner table, the tastes of childhood—those are harder to change.
Hard Times, Strong Roots
World events were anything but kind to Gottscheers. As years passed, political pressure increased, language laws shifted, national boundaries wobbled, and finally, during World War II, the community was forced to uproot in ways no one should have to. Homes were lost, families scattered.
For Marija, it meant she never saw her homeland—or many of her family—again after leaving. But she carried the smells, the songs, the family recipes, the whisper of Gottscheer German dialects, deep inside her. She carried community and faith and family, even when geography said “you are far.”
What Marija’s Journey Gives Us
Heritage is not just a place of birth—it’s what you carry across oceans. The stories, the lullabies, the names.
Change isn’t sudden. It builds gradually: loss, shifting borders, new languages. But identity can survive that, thrive even.
Love and belonging are powerful. Even though she couldn’t return, Marija helped us remember. She helped bridge “there” and “here.”
Looking Back, Moving Forward Marija’s life is a reminder: roots matter, even when they’re hidden beneath the surface. Hers reminds us that though borders change and homes can be lost, what we pass down—our family values, our memory, our voice—are ours forever. We are living proof of persistence, love, and the invisible threads that keep families whole.
Gottschee refers to a former German-speaking region in Carniola, now in Slovenia. The original German settlers of the region are called Gottschee Germans or Gottscheers, and they also developed a distinct German dialect called Gottschee German or Gottscheerish. It is like comparing Old English to our current English. (Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gottschee)
Seal of the City of Gottschee
The city of Gottschee was granted city status in 1471. The seal of the city shows Saint Bartholomew, the patron saint of the parish church.
The inscription on the old seal, Sigilum Civitatis in Kotschew 1471, is translated, Seal of the City of Gottschee 1471.
From some Gottscheer’s : In school, Belay had to learn three alphabets: Cyrillic, Roman, and Old German—a sign of the many cultures that shared the lands around Gottschee. In high school, he had to learn Slovenian in just one year, because it became the language of instruction.
Teachers who spoke German were removed and replaced by teachers who would only speak Slovenian to the school children. This presented a huge difficulty for the Gottscheers since most of them did not speak Slovenian. Problems arose and a feeling of ill will was created.
Edward Eppich lived on his father’s farm in Gottschee until he was 11. “You had only maybe one or two horses and a pig, and that’s what you lived on,” Eppich recalls. When Austrians first settled Gottschee in the 1300s, they found the land rocky and difficult to sow. “It was not that easy,” he says.
A camp for displaced Gottcheers in Austria after World War II
From the time of their arrival until the end of the war, Gottschee farmers were harassed and sometimes killed by partisans who saw them as an instrument of the occupying regime. (Source: http://alpineclub.ca/our-story/history-of-the-gottscheers/
The horrible things that happened during Hitler and Tito’s reigns are unimaginable. Some say that Tito was worse than Hitler, but evil is evil. Many could not return to their country for fear of Tito’s “purge”. The Kočevski Rog massacre and killings continued after the war, through 1945.
It is no wonder that Marija would never again see her homeland or her family again. Her country was torn apart. The once privileged Gottscheers were now a minority in a war-ravaged country.
Adolf Eppich says in his memoir, Memories of a Gottscheer Refugee“Gottscheers are blessed to have been part of a heritage that focuses on God and neighbor and strong family values.” They carried this heritage and faith to America for their descendants to carry on.
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Want to dive deeper? I’m here for it. Because family history isn’t just about knowing who came before — it’s about seeing ourselves in them, feeling their triumphs and struggles, and finding what they left that’s still alive in us.
External links www.gottschee.at Website of Gottscheer societies www.gottschee.de Information on history and culture of the Gottscheer Germans. www.gottschee.com Website with audio folklore samples from Gottscheers in the United States. Gottscheer Heritage and Genealogy Association (GHGA) website “founded in 1992 to preserve the culture, history, and genealogical records of Gottscheers and Gottschee (1330-1941)”
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William Henry Logan (1826-1899): A Pioneer’s Roots & Resilience
Every branch on the family tree begins with someone who carved out a life on raw land, who planted roots where none existed. For us, one of those roots is William Henry Logan — the man who helped turn northern Wisconsin’s wilderness into something his children and grandchildren could call home.
Early Life, Marriage, and Moving North
William Henry was born on August 30, 1826, in Portland, New York. His heart must have longed for places newer than the old roads, because some years after marrying Margaret J. Hyland (September 9, 1849), he and Margaret left New York behind and headed into Wisconsin’s frontier.
By the early 1850s, they were in Sauk County. And then in 1872, William filed a homestead in Dallas Township, Barron County — 160 acres waiting for someone to clear, build, and farm. That someone was him.
Raising a Big Family & Facing Hardship
William and Margaret had nine children: Clamania, Elizabeth (Libbie), William A., Lillie, Lydia A., Margaret L., Lemuel H., Mary L., and Ethel M. They worked hard, taught where they could, and built a life from logs and soil. Libbie, William, and Lillie all became teachers.
But it wasn’t always sunny. Tragedy struck with typhoid fever: Libbie, then Mrs. Logan, and others in the family fell ill. The emotional and physical toll was immense — yet despite all, they held together. Father continued working, mother mended spirits, and children stepped in.
The Homestead Becomes Home
William’s life at Barron County was more than just survival. He was active in Sunday schools, religious work, distributing tracts, believing children deserved knowledge and faith even in remote places.
They built a log house first, then improved, cleared land, planted Balm of Gilead (those trees by the path) as symbols of hope and permanence. Their ranch/farm/dairy homestead rose slowly, amid trees, snow, seasons, and community.
Final Years & Lasting Legacy
William Henry died March 19, 1899, on that homestead in Dallas Township, Barron County. Margaret lived on until April 24, 1919. Their children scattered, married, taught, and carried forward both tragedy and triumph.
Jessie Burrall (a grandchild or great-grandchild) brought especially bright light to the family: teacher, leader, organizer, building large Sunday School classes, doing religious education work, bringing that same commitment to community that William Henry had planted.
What William Henry’s Story Teaches Us
True pioneer spirit isn’t just in the big moves; it’s in staying when things are hard, seeing beauty in trees, and building a home from nothing.
Family isn’t perfect — sickness, loss, doubt all show up; what counts is showing up for each other anyway.
What we leave isn’t always material. It’s stories, values, seeds (literal and metaphorical), faith, and education. Those Balm of Gileads? They’re still budding.
Want to go further? I can help you map out where the old homestead is today, maybe pull up old photos or land records so you can see what William Henry saw. These stories might be decades old, but they still have roots in us.
* Balm of Gilead *
Written as it was written in the Rice Lake Chronotype newspaper, issues Nov. 16, 23rd, 30th, and Dec. 7, 1932.
Written by Mrs. Mattie Nicklow of Dallas, Wisconsin. “A Story of the Pioneer Days of Barron County”
"About 60 years ago there resided on a farm within the present city limits of Janesville a family consisting of the parents, Mr. and Mrs. W. H. Logan (Margaret Jackson Hyland) and seven children: Libbie 19, William 17, Lilly 14, Lydia 12, Margaret 8, Mary 4 and Ethel 2. An older sister, Clamanie had prior to this married S.A. Stowe of Neenah, and a brother, Lemuel H. preceeded all in death.
Mr. Logan in purchasing this farm had fully intended to till the soil and make the place a permanent home. An anticipation which no doubt would have matured had it not been for two facts: (1.) the growing activities of the world renowned Knapp Stout & Co. in northern Wisconsin, (2) the adaptability of several members of this family to become woof for the great shuttles of enterprise which this lumbering company had set in motion.
In 1871 Mr. Logan a finished woodworker and wagon maker obtained a position with Knapp-Stout at Menomonie, committing the care of the farm to the son Willie and Mrs. Logan. Having proved his efficiency he was soon sent by the company to Prairie Farm where in company with Thos. Blyton, A West Dallas pioneer farmer and carpenter, he worked on the first store building in this village, which served as a general supply store for not only Knapp-Stout, but for the country at large.
It may be of additional interest to mention here that George E. Scott, who in 1883 became manager of this store, eight years later purchased the business and erecting a new structure "famed" Prairie Farm nationally as possessing the most beautiful country store in the world.
In the course of events, as Mr. Logan was building away on the store, he noted in the conversation of his fellow laborers, corroboration and augmenting of previous reports he had heard at Reedsburg regarding the possibilities of the dairy industry in Barron county. As a direct result of this propaganda he became more and more convinced that here was his opportunity. Land could be homesteaded, he had three grown children as well as himself who could soon file on a piece of land: teachers would soon be in demand--Willie, Libbie and Lilly were all qualified teachers. Thus he reasoned to himself and little by little his conversion to Barron county was conveyed by letter to his family until finally Mrs. Logan received a definite request asking her to dispose of the farm home at Reedsburg. Also all the equipment except the team, the colts, two cows, a heifer, the wagon, necessary clothing and food for the trip and to carry them through the next winter, with an additional statement the Barron County offered ideal homemaking conditions and he desired them to join him there.
Letters continued to arrive, one finally stating. Mr. Logan had actually filed on a claim. Mr. Stowe, the son-in-law, was asked to aid Willie in preparations for the trip and to also accompany them to Prairie Farm. By midsummer all was in readiness with everyone gay and light hearted except mother. Thoughtfully she closed the old home door and with a face set toward duty and heart turning back to the closed door she seated herself beside the driver.
Early morning revealed a white covered wagon with a team of horses, colts, cows and heifer slowly moving north from Reedsburg. Due to the cattle's slow travel several nights were spent in camp, but Mrs. Logan and the two small children were fortunate in getting a room in a hotel or farmhouse each night. While the men and three older girls were truly enjoying their camp-outs until after passing into the heavily-wooded section surrounding Black River Falls. Here they were frightened by the appearance of a number of tough looking men and abandoned plans for the night camp, driving on until the animals were exhausted.
Among the major adventures of the trip was the fording of the Red Cedar River. The water was running high and the wagon box was soon floating along with ropes serving as guys, to regulate its path to that of the running gear. When they were safely on the opposite shore the children looked back to see their precious colts following up the riverbank they had just left. The silly things did not spy their mothers until they reached a point directly across the stream but some rods up from where the ford started. In they jumped, and out of sight! But the screams of Ethel and Mary soon turned to shouts of encouragement as they spied the dark specks--noses, ears, and their heads- swimming. Then with a lunge they came up the bank beside the children, making a never-to-be-forgotten picture for the more sophisticated members of the family.
During the time of preparation for the trip Mr. Logan had been busy putting up a house on his homestead. Logs were cut and hauled to the little clearing. A road was cut through the woods west to the tote road at the Sam Tucker place, so lumber could be hauled from the Knapp-Stout mill at Prairie Farm for the floor and doors of the rude structure. Jos. Richards, whose homestead was 3 miles away, gave valued help in putting up the building. Three other homesteaders (all bachelors) were for some reason deeply interested in the early completion of the house and the coming of the Logan family into their midst. These men were John Knight, Lem Sharp and John McMullen. Their claims partially joined that of Mr. Logan's on the north and west. Their assistance was most welcome and many an evening they spent that winter "getting acquainted with their new neighbors."
On Aug. 28, 1872, the wagon, which for a few days had been the only home of the family of nine, drove up at the door of Knapp Stout & Co.'s boarding house in Prairie Farm. Here comfort and plenty reigned; this added to the reunion of the family. A night's rest and morning found them all clamoring up behind the team into the wagon for the last 6 miles of their trip.
Before leaving, Mr. Logan borrowed from his employers, Knapp Stout & Co., ox teams to furnish extra power if necessary when they reached the 2 miles of road he had earlier in the summer cut through the heavy timber to his homestead. This proved a wise precaution for after leaving the tote road from Prairie Farm to Rice Lake they were in a wilderness supreme. A cyclone a short time before had nearly obliterated Mr. Logan's by-road and uprooted trees, stumps and fallen timber required much chopping and detouring for the loaded wagon. After a long day the wearied travelers came to a small opening in the timber. Here was home! True, a "log house," but that was to be only temporary, a stopping place by the way that was leading to a fine set of buildings on a Barron county dairy farm "some day".
Mother's vision was a bit cloudy that evening, but she tried to see the brilliantly pictured future as she quietly passed through the opened door and thereby took possession of the woodland cottage. Hope ran high as things were placed here and there, and sleeping arrangements were being made. Supper over the quiet hour came. It was different though--such a quiet they had never known! Out of touch of all humanity! Trees, trees--the pines' low crooning, and far away the "who-who" of a lone owl, as if questioning the right of the new intruders.
Overpowering fatigue had forced a similar quiet upon the household when the plaintive little sobs of Baby Ethel were heard from an adjoining room and in a burst of self-defense she declared: "I isn't going to sleep in this colties' house--I's going to Papa's house." Log walls to her were associated with stock and barns and the only house she had seen in Barron county was the company's boarding house, where she had met her father the evening before.
Came morning, then another and another followed evening. The house had been turned unconsciously into a home. The clearing which at their arrival was slightly larger than the house, was day by day creeping into the forest growth. There would be some acreage for garden in the spring.
Fall was here and Willie had been hired to teach in the Kellog district near Prairie Farm, boarding at the Roseman Kellog home. Libbie taught the Pelton school, boarded at Hiram Pelton's, and Lilly did not teach until spring of the following year (1873) when she secured a school 5 miles north of Rice Lake, known as the Beaton or Demars school. The three took teachers' examinations at Dallas and when William returned home he told how Chas. Finley was caught in the act of helping a would-be teacher with an arithmetic problem and when taken to task by the superintendent, A. B. Finley, how he straightened up to full stature law and said: "Well, Brother A. B., I've given you a little similar assistance -in the past. I guess this will pass."
Summer brought the teachers all back to the thatched roof which now indeed was like home to them. The little farm was growing in size. Somehow the timber that had such lonesomeness about it when they first came there was growing more friendly too. The purplish border of tress was fast changing as bud and leaf told of summer's coming. Even the two "Balm of Gilead" beside the path (only switches in size) had great bulgy spots up and down their stalks. They were alive! Though shrubbery abounded, only these two have to do with our story.
Among the pleasures in Willie's days at the new farm were his horseback rides to Prairie Farm. Often he made these trips, but the one described here is different in that the Balm of Gileads are today bursting into bud and leaf, as living memorials, after 57 years of growth at the Logan home in West Dallas!
The name of the horse Willie rode has been forgotten, but for the story's sake we'll call her "Doll." She was usually well behaved and even that day conducted herself with real dignity until nearing home, some 3 miles away, she began to put on airs. She became too proud to trot and soon cashed off with a mild run, then suddenly stopped with a force that nearly set her rider on the ground in front of her. So reining her up to the Balm of Gileads at the Sam Tucker place, which he happened to be passing, he took a couple of twigs in his hand. Nothing more was necessary! Horse and rider were home in a few moments.
The twigs were dropped as he dismounted. Later his father passing that way noticed the sticks--for nothing more did they look to be, till picking them up he discovered they were more domesticated than the growth about the home, and upon closer scrutiny he found them to be Balm of Gileads. As he stood holding them, thoughts came--not new thoughts, but old ones, of another place. There were Balm of Gileads there, yes, neighbors had them too. They bespeak settlement, culture-I'll set them out by the path to the front door, one on each side . . . . So now, in late spring, they were ready to silver out, and small though they were, Father and Mother loved to watch them grow and oft as they walked by, the sight of sprouting swigs carried their minds to other scenes: pleasant roads, comfortable homes, refining influences; again they'd recall Willie's riding home, happy and gay -- were it not for him they possibly would never have made this venture. He must have a chance! Yes, in a few years he could file on a claim, as Libby had. He was clearing now--fields are growing-soon, the place will be a real farm, a new home. How much Willie is worth to us. Our only son! At these times the "some day" was very near.
The two little twigs by the front door path were as a mental lens which drew unto them the possibilities of the future as a field glass takes the very horizon and drops it at our feet.
Summer of 1873 is waning. The school year is near. Lilly has the Wygant School, Willie the DeMars school, north of Rice Lake, and Libbie a school adjoining that of her brother.
The oldest child at home this fall was Lydia, 14. The three others were Lucinda, Mary and Ethel. Mr. and Mrs. Logan, 'not exactly young, were still in the prime of life, he being 47 and she 43. Both were of a spiritual turn of mind. Mr. Logan made many trips about the country establishing Sunday schools and distributing religious literature. Libbie was planning how she would prepare linen for housekeeping, evenings after school, so when vacation came she could take Mary for company and live on her own claim. How her heart leaped for joy at the thought!
September found the three teachers at their school work. The two north of Rice Lake did not expect to get home before the holidays, but Lilly was boarding at the Sidney Wygant home, only 3 miles away and was home every week end.
All went well until the last Friday in October when, reaching home she found her little sister Lucinda ill. No doctor? Yes, Mr. Logan while working in Prairie Farm had made the acquaintance of a physician, and harnessing up the team he drove after him that evening.
Dr. Buck consented to come and diagnose the case providing Mr. Logan could get him back to the mill in time for work the following morning. Lucinda was found to have typhoid fever and lay for weeks waiting for the fever to take its course.
Mrs. Logan watched over her child and finally saw hope of her recovery, but before her patient was able to be about, she herself was stricken with the same disease. When Lilly came home, the last weekend in November, there were two patients, one recovering and one in the toils of a raging fever.
Lydia was now nearing 15, and with Mr. Logan and the weekend help Lilly could give they managed to take care of mother, and Lucinda, though very weak, did not need so much attention.
Night after night the father drove through the snow filled road to Prairie Farm to get Dr. Buck, then back again with him at an early morning hour. Often Discouraging thoughts came as he made his early morning return from Prairie Farm, but he would find consolation in the fact that three were teaching.
Libbie's school term finished in December and then she would be at home to help awhile before she moved to her own land. Lilly would soon be home on vacation. Willie was doing fine. Mother was no worse--nature was waging a successful battle in her case as in Lucinda's.
December was here and Libbie was home. She moved about in a cheerful, happy way. Mother and sister were still helplessly weak but with her to care for them and cook they would gain rapidly. Willie had accompanied his sister home for a short vacation but was back at his school in a week's time.
One morning Willie was unable to rise and go to his school --headache, fever. Dr. Whinney was called out from Rice Lake and turning to Mrs. Demars he said, "A case of typhoid." Youth is not easily daunted. Willie thought of home, however, and after days turned to weeks he wished his father would come and see him. "Surely mother and sister are well by this time," he reasoned. Dr. Whinney wrote Mr. Logan of his son's illness and asked him to come and see him.
In the Logan home the drama of sickness was still on. The first two patients were pitifully helpless and the third patient, Libbie, was daily growing worse--she too, was a typhoid victim. A few days later Mr. Logan received Dr. Whinney's letter--the return mail carried a short letter telling Dr. Whinney the conditions at home and saying he would come just as soon as possible, but not to tell Willie of Libbie's condition.
The coming days brought strength to young William and in due time he took up his school work. The game days increased the seriousness of Libbie's illness. Hope fled.
Another letter: "Come, Willie is worse." Dr. Whinney. " Torn between his double duty the father answered: "Can't come till there's a change here." Long before the line reached Dr. Whinney the change came -- the last long change, mortal to immortal!. Casket, cemetery, pastor, church--where were they? If only Willie were here! Mr. Logan grew weak. Night after night of lonely vigil with midnight drives through snow filled roads, hoping against hope that his recompense would be Libbie's recovery, not daring to falter lest Mother in her weakness might also fail--and if Mother's heart were to fail. . . .
Night wore on. Stars shone outside. Somber, unleafed trees stood watching, still, as if fearful that one twig moving might burst the hearts of their cottage dwellers. White faced and trembling, they--mother and father of the dead--met the morning, which did not come as it always seemed to, before. It was evening time with them--dark, sad, bitter, a darkness within that morning light could not penetrate. But Nature has many forces and is resourceful beyond measure. As the light and warmth of day is fatal to the spent bloom, it at the same time is energy and life to the bursting bud at its side. So with the stricken--joy and happiness gone, duty springs up and sweet submission leads on. Mother stilled her heart with thoughts for Willie--he was needing his father--she would be brave so he could go to him.
The team was again put over the road to Prairie Farm, this time for a casket (which Knapp Stout & Co. kept in stock, bringing them up by team from Menomonie.) No burial place! Oh, must their farm, their home, their little clearing, become their cemetery? Was this pioneering?
Neighboring settlers came in, to aid and comfort. The matter was talked over and finally it was decided to take their loved Libbie's remains to a slight knoll just across the opening from the house.
The funeral over, Mr. Logan left for Willie's bedside. A hard day's drive brought him to the DeMars home, where he learned that the relapse was more severe than the first attack. And after being there but a brief time the father was looking into the lifeless eyes of his only son. A casket was obtained in Rice Lake and the return home I will leave to my readers--often, words fail!
Duty, Still there. in this lonely and stricken home--yes, to the dead, the living, and to God! Lilly finished her school. Mr. Logan filed an heir's right to the claim Libbie had taken. Later Lydia Ann married and her husband, Joe Cobb, Took over the Claim. Later still Lydia Ann proved up on the claim and held it until late years, when it was sold to an outsider.
Lilly became the bride of Joe Burrell, Lucinda married Ed Smith. Ethel inheriting the family trait of education and teaching taught for many years in Barron county before her marriage to Wm. Modersbach of Comstock. Mary, next older than Ethel, was Mrs. Urban Larson of West Dallas.
Mr. and Mrs. Logan stayed on in their cottage home. Somehow, try as they would, the old-time cheer never completely reigned, for there, where "some day" the new home and wide tilled acreage was to be, lay two conquerors--stilled.
Yet Mr. and Mrs. Logan labored on, trusting in a final victory. Mr. Logan did much Sunday school work and distributing of religious literature in the early day homes. The tendency toward teaching spiritual truths seems to rest especially with the Burrall faction of this family and their daughter, Jessie, brought real fame to the family through this channel. Miss Jessie, born on a farm near to the home of her grandparents and the homestead of her Aunt Lydia, in West Dallas, grew to womanhood in Minnesota. After graduating from high school and college she took up teaching as her life's vocation. During the war she was engaged as chief of school service by the National Geographic Society in the city of Washington DC. While there she organized a girls' Sunday school class with a membership of 500 which in a short time reached the goal of 2,000 and carried with it the distinction of being the world's largest girls' Sunday school class.
The special aim of this able teacher-leader, who on her maternal side is descended from five generations of New England ministers, is religious, and all her efforts tend toward the stimulation of religious work at home and abroad.
After the war she accepted a position as a religious instructor in Stephens college, Columbus, MO, and in nine months found herself teacher of a Sunday school class that had grown by her efforts from a small class of men and woman from the college and state university to a number nearing 2,000. About this time the American Magazine in an article on Interesting People, said this of Miss Burrall: "Miss Burrall is a human dynamo, spending her strength prodigally but apparently drawing on some unseen force for renewed vitality. She is a rather fragile looking little woman, scarcely more than 5 feet in height and weighing only 115 pounds.
During the week she gives her time to lecturing and teaching. But if you could see her on Sunday morning, when she faces her great class, you would never guess that she had worked hard all the week. Her enthusiasm and freshness of energy would make you conclude that she had done nothing but rest and save her strength for the Sunday morning message to her pupils.
Miss Burrall reads more than 30 magazines each month in order to know what her young people are reading. She believes that prayer is as essential as breathing and just as natural." Miss Jessie Burrall (my 2nd Cousin 2x removed)
In 1929 the Jessie Burrall Hall was dedicated in memory of the work done by this plucky girl in Columbus, Mo.
After a motor trip to the Vermont hills and through New York state, where she took her mother, Lilly Logan Burrall, to visit the scenes of her greats' and grandparents' homes, she was united in marriage with Prof. Eubanks, who is a writer as well as a teacher. Together, they are carrying on the great work so near to Mrs. Eubanks' heart.
This pioneer mother and father have long since ceased their toil. They no longer watch the Balm of Gileads leaf. "At rest" they lie, close to their only son, and daughter Libbie. Part of the old farm is still owned by a member of the family. The schoolhouse where Mr. Logan and family loved to gather for Sunday services has for many years been replaced by a more modern one. The little plot of ground where Libbie and William were laid was given to Dallas as a cemetery in which, besides those mentioned are to be found many other pioneers.
The Balm of Gileads are still budding for leaf."
Another story written of him:
Abstracted from pages 98/99 of The History Of Barron County, Wisconsin, published in 1922, by H.C. Cooper, Jr. & Co., Minneapolis, Minnesota:
William Henry Logan was born August 30, 1826 in Portland, New York. He was a man of pious inclinations, and after arriving in Wisconsin, went from place to place in the wilderness, distributing religious tracts and organizing Sunday Schools so that the children living there might be reared in Christianity. On Sep. 9, 1849, after leaving New York state, he married Margaret J. Hyland at Highland Prairie, Wisconsin. She was born Oct 27, 1930 Hillsburg, New Hampshire. In the early 1850s they moved to Sauk County, Wisconsin, and in 1872 homesteaded 160 acres of land in Dallas Township, Barron County, Wisconsin. He developed the farm over the course of twenty-seven years and died there March 19, 1899. His wife died at Stone Lake, Wisconsin on April 24, 1919.
William and Margaret were the parents of nine children as follows: Clamania, born June 3, 1850 in Beaver Dam, Dame County, Wisconsin, and became the wife of S.A. Stowe, of Neenah, Wisconsin; Elizabeth F. was born June 13, 1852 in Burnett, Sauk County and was deceased as of 1922; William A. was born May 2, 1854 in Burnett, Sauk County, and was deceased as of 1922; Lillie J. was born July 11, 1857 in Westfield, Marquette County, Wisconsin, and became the wife of J.H. Burrall of Little Falls, Minnesota; Lydia A. was born Jan. 12, 1859 in Westfield, Wisconsin, and was deceased as of 1922; Margaret L. was born Feb. 11, 1863, in Westfield, and became the wife of Edgar A. Smith of Barron, Wisconsin; Lemuel H. was born Oct. 24, 1864 in Westfield and was deceased as of 1922; Mary L. was born June 23, 1867 in Reedsburg, Sauk County, and became the wife of U.L. Parsons; and Ethel M. was born April 5, 1870 in Reedsburg, and became the wife of William Modersbach of Comstock, Wisconsin.
John Loggan and his twin brother James were born in Voluntown, Connecticut, on 30 June 1731. Their father, John, was 32, and their mother, Margaret, was 28.
James stayed in Connecticut and served in the Revolutionary War.
John’s brother Hugh was born in Voluntown, Connecticut, on September 14, 1736, when John was 5 years old. Hugh passed away on September 15, 1755, in Washington, Connecticut, when John was 24 and Hugh was 19.
His sister Mary died on March 27, 1739, at the age of 14, when John was 7 years old, in Voluntown, Connecticut.
John’s brothers Robert and Samuel were born in Plainfield, Connecticut, on July 12, 1739, when John was 8 years old. Robert fought in the French and Indian War, and Samuel fought in the Civil War.
His brother Mathew was born in Washington, Connecticut, on December 15, 1742, when John was 11 years old. Mathew fought in the Revolutionary War.
John married Azubah Royce in Madison, Connecticut, on 15 November 1753, when he was 22. Azubah’s father, John Royce, was married to John’s father’s second wife, Dorcas. John Royce was Dorcas’ first husband and my sixth great-grandfather.
John had a daughter named Mary, born in 1754 in Woodbury. He also had a son named Daniel, born in 1762 in Woodbury. Another daughter, Rhoda, was born in 1767 in Woodbury but passed away at age nine. John’s mother Margaret died in 1770 in Washington when she was 67. John also had daughters named Anna and Elizabeth. Anna was born in 1770 in Woodbury, and Elizabeth was born around 1773 in Rupert, Vermont.
John Jr. was living in the 13 colonies at one of the most important turning points in American history—the signing of the Declaration of Independence.
Death of Daughter
John Jr. lived in Voluntown, Connecticut, during the signing of the Declaration of Independence in 1776. During this same year, John’s nine-year-old daughter, Rhoda, was accidentally shot by her brother while he was playing with a gun in the yard, saying he was going to shoot Tories. Rhoda had teased her brother about his ability to shoot and told him to shoot her if he could. Tragically, she was killed.
The 1777 Battle of Ridgefield was fought in the state of Connecticut, where John Logan Jr. was living at the time. His father died later that year, on 2 December 1777, in Washington, Connecticut, at the age of 78.
During the Revolutionary War, James served in Connecticut.
John Logan Jr. also lived in Vermont when it became the 14th state on 4 March 1791. After the Revolutionary War, the second “g” was dropped from our last name, and, from what I’ve discovered so far, it has been spelled “Logan” ever since.
His wife Azubah died on 27 August 1796, at the age of 59, in Rupert, Vermont. They had been married for 42 years.
John died on 17 September 1809 in Rupert, Vermont, at the age of 78.
Rise and shine, family! Every once in a while, when you stare at a photo or hear a story from Grandma, you realize there’s more in your blood than just names and dates. One such story in our family is that of James Lemuel Logan — not just because of what he did, but the spirit with which he lived it.
Born in Wisconsin, Made of Grit
James Lemuel Logan came into the world on September 6, 1860, in Sparta, Wisconsin. His dad, Silas, was 27, and his mom, Sarah, was only 18. Small-town beginnings, but then life had big plans for him.
Wagon Wheels & New Frontiers
He used to tell his granddaughter, Carrie Elva Logan Porter Reade, stories about crossing the prairie in a covered wagon. That image — dusty roads, miles of open land, hopes packed into the wagon — tells you already that James grew up with adventure by his side.
His father, Silas, had moved around: from Pennsylvania to Wisconsin (when it was frontier), then back. Often by wagon. Eventually, Silas settled in places like Titusville and Greensburg in Pennsylvania, where he did some oil work and prospecting.
Work, Rails, & Iron
James didn’t stay small-town idle. He got a common school education, then, around age eighteen, he became a brakeman on the Pennsylvania Railroad. But he wasn’t satisfied being up and down the tracks in that role for long. After a few months, James moved on.
Next, he tried out being a teamster in Blairsville, then worked as a locomotive fireman. Eventually, James earned a promotion to engineer — a job he held for about eight years. That means he was the one driving those massive machines. Keeping them working. Steering where steel met steam.
In 1898, he moved to Vandergrift and worked for Apollo Iron and Steel as a locomotive engineer. Then, when a foundry moved, he moved with the opportunity and kept working with the Chilled Roll Foundry Company in its new place. Still living in Apollo. Still working with his hands and heart.
Family, Faith & Final Years
On December 22, 1882, James married Caroline Stitt, of Blairsville. Over 17 years, they had six children. Life was busy, loud, full. Some children passed, some stayed, but each one carried part of James forward.
Even as years wore on, he was active in the community: belonged to lodges like the I.O.O.F., the Knights of Malta, and was part of the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers. He identified as an Independent politically and attended the Methodist Episcopal church. All of which suggests values — faith, connection, doing right by people.
In his later years, he was in Michigan — still along for the ride life offered. James died on April 10, 1952, in Pontiac, Michigan, at age 91.
What We Learn from Lem
Here’s what sticks with me when I think of James Lemuel Logan.
Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it’s quietly riding across a prairie, choosing steady work, keeping family close.
Change is part of the journey: moving places, changing jobs, rising to bigger roles — James did it repeatedly, often stepping outside his comfort.
Legacy is more than blood. It’s stories told at kitchen tables, values passed down, the strength in saying “I’ll drive the engine” when perhaps simpler paths were available.
Want to dive deeper? I’m here for it. Whether it’s finding letters, photos, or more stories from Carrie (his granddaughter), each clue adds color to James Lem’s life. Because family history isn’t just about knowing who came before — it’s about seeing ourselves in them, feeling their triumphs & struggles, and finding what they left that’s still alive in us. 🌾🚂👟
The following is from the History of Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania, Volume 2 By John Newton Boucher :
“JAMES L. LOGAN. Silas Logan, father of James L. Logan, of Vandergrift, born about 1825, in Corry, Erie county, Pennsylvania, and as a young man went to Wisconsin, then situated on the frontier. He settled among the Indians, but after a shore time returned to Pennsylvania, having made both the outward and homeward trips by wagon. On his return he settled in Titusville, where he engaged in the oil business, later removing to Blairsville, where he did some oil prospecting. Subsequently, he took up his abode in Greensburg, and some time in the eighties went to Detroit, where he has since resided on a farm in the suburbs. Mr. Logan married Elizabeth Rowan, and the following are their children: James L., see forward: Henry, head bookkeeper for the American Harrow Company, of Detroit: Elsie, and Lena, both at home.
James L. Logan, son of Silas and Elizabeth (Rowan) Logan was born September 6, 1860, in Sparta, Monroe county, Wisconsin, and received a common school education. About his eighteenth year he secured a position as a brakeman of the Pennsylvania railroad, but not finding the associations congenial resigned at the end of a few months. He then went to Blairsville, where for about a year he was employed as a teamster, afterward obtaining a position as locomotive fireman on the Pennsylvania railroad. About two years and nine months later he was promoted to the position of engineer, which he held for some eight years. At the end of that time he resigned and for the three years following was variously employed. In 1898 he moved to Vandergrift, where he became locomotive engineer for the Apollo Iron and Steel Company, remaining in this position about two years and a half. He then accepted a position with the Chilled Roll Foundry Company of Apollo, and on the removal of the foundry to Vandergrift was retained, being transferred to that place. He continued, however, to live in Apollo, where he still resides (as of the date of the article).
He belongs to Mineral Point Lodge, No. 615, I. O. O. F.; Apollo Commandery, No. 365, Knights of Malta; and Allegheny Division, No. 108, Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers. He is an Independent in politics and a member of the Methodist Episcopal church.
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From Johann Leopold Schwittkowski to John Paul Hennig: A Family Name’s Journey
Every family tree has a few surprise twists—hidden stories that explain how we became who we are today. One of those stories in my family starts with a young man from Prussia who carried an impossibly long last name and an unshakable sense of purpose. His name was Johann Leopold Schwittkowski… until he decided it shouldn’t be.
This is the story of how he became John Paul Hennig, and how that decision shaped every generation that followed.
A Boy from West Prussia
Johann Leopold entered the world on a chilly November day in 1865, in a place called Danziger Höhe, tucked inside West Prussia. His parents, Johann and Maria Elisabeth (née Hennig), were young and raising a bustling household. Over time, the house filled with siblings—Joseph, Anton, Paul, and several others. One little sister, Maria Elisabeth, only stayed for three months, leaving a small shadow of grief behind.
When Johann’s father died in 1883, seventeen-year-old Johann stepped up. He helped his mother keep the family together—likely working the land and caring for the younger children, already showing the grit that would carry him across an ocean.
Crossing the Atlantic
By 1891, adventure was calling. Johann, 26, and his brother Anton packed their hopes, said their goodbyes, and boarded the Belgenland in Antwerp, bound for Philadelphia. They stepped onto American soil on May 25, aiming to build new lives in Milwaukee.
Two years later, love bloomed. On October 4, 1893, Johann married Augusta Julie Reikowski—and because this family never does things halfway, Anton got married the very same day. It must have been one spectacular double wedding.
Why the Name Became Hennig
Around 1910–1911, something shifted. The family began using the surname Hennig, which had been Johann’s mother’s maiden name.
Why? According to naturalization papers from Johann’s brother Paul, the old name—Schwittkowski—sounded too Polish to people at the time. Johann was proud of his German heritage, and he wanted his family to be seen for who they were. So, he chose to honor his mother’s family name instead.
And just like that, Johann Leopold Schwittkowski became John Paul Hennig.
A Life of Hard Work
John worked as a grain elevator operator for years, providing for his growing family. When a strike and crop shortages hit in 1921, he pivoted and went to work at the Falk Corporation iron foundry.
On February 4, 1933, at 67, he passed away in Milwaukee after a cerebral hemorrhage. It was the end of his story—but the beginning of ours under a new name.
His Legacy
Sometimes family history isn’t about famous names or dramatic events. Sometimes it’s about one man who quietly carried his family’s past across an ocean, chose a new name, and built a foundation for generations to come.
That’s who Johann—our John—was. The man who turned Schwittkowski into Hennig, and gave us a fresh start.
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Emigrated to the United States of America at Age 26
25 May 1891 • Antwerp, Belgium
Arrival
Johann departed Antwerp, Belgium, with his brother Anton on the ship “Belgenland”; he arrived in Philadelphia on 25 May 1891. Ship manifest notes both are German cits, are farmers, sitting in J Forward, are carrying 2 pieces of luggage, and plan to settle in Milwaukee.
“2 pieces of luggage”. Can you imagine arriving in a foreign country with one piece of luggage each? Amazing!
Rev. A. J. Decker- Person Pronouncing Marriage Paul Schwitkowski- Witness Joseph Bergenthal-Witness St. Anthony Church 8th & Mitchell Streets.
Johann and Anton were married on the same day.
Augusta Julie Reikowski
An unidentified Falk employee stands next to a large Steel Spur Gear. The sign in the photograph reads, “Cast Steel Spur Gear. Made by The Falk Co. Milwaukee, Wis. For Featherstone Foundry and Machine Co. of Chicago, Ills. Wt. 9340 lbs.”
Hennig Family circa 1918
Martha, Ralph, Clara, Johnnie, Marge
George, John Paul, Roy, Augusta, Ben
7 Feb 1933 • Milwaukee County, Wisconsin, USA
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It started in the 1990’s, I wanted to know more about where I came from, but not necessarily genealogy wise, I wanted to know more about my biological father who died when I was five. At some point when I was in high school (80’s) I found out I had two half sisters and two half brothers, one of which died before I was born. We all had this same father with different mothers. What did we share? Did we look alike? Did we talk alike? Who was this man who fathered us, who left Pontiac High School in Michigan in the 10th grade and joined the Army a year or two later and served in WW2 and the Korean War? Who died of a heart attack at age 48 and left me with question upon question. His name was Arthur Lee Logan, Sr.- “Art”.
From there it grew to the yearning to know more, to know his parents and his parent’s parents. To know my mom’s ancestors and their ancestors and where we came from.
So, from the Logan and Stitt and Rowan’s of Pennsylvania< Vermont< Connecticut< Ireland< Scotland (where my 22% Scot Irish DNA comes from) and his Mother’s parents and grandparents the Kunkle/Gunkel and Hawk & Schlonecker and Younkins & Kocher of Pennsylvania < Germany (where my 24% Eastern European DNA comes from)…
Logan Homestead then Connecticut
Logan Homestead now Connecticut
To my Mom’s father’s family the Wescott/Weskitt/Wescoat & Chadwick/Chaddic/Shadock and Chapman & Burns of North Carolina<Virginia< England (where my 42% Scandinavia DNA comes from)
and her mother’s family Stephanz/Stefanc/Stefanac and Swegel/Švegelj from Kansas City< Stari Trg ob Kolpi, Črnomelj, Austria< Dolenji Radenci, Slovenija and Deskova vas, Stari trg ob Kolpi, Slovenia (also includes my 24% Eastern European DNA)
andSchwitkowski and Hennig & Reikowski/ReikWisconsin< West Prussia and Gdańsk, Poland (also includes my 24% Eastern European DNA) to today where I sit in Florida, United States of America…
Deskova, Slovenia
Kovaca Vas, Crnomelj, Austria
I seem to have roots everywhere!
No matter which limb I am researching, the journey always leads me to the coast. We are water people through and through.
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John T. Wescott’s Poyner’s Hill Lifesaving badge. 
Captain Wescott, Albert Read Wescott Jr. with Bucky, Mary W sitting 1919-20
Two years later, Martha died of a kidney disorder. (Chronic valvular disease, chronic nephritis)
From there it grew to the yearning to know more, to know his parents and his parent’s parents. To know my mom’s ancestors and their ancestors and where we came from.
and Schwitkowski and Hennig & Reikowski/Reik Wisconsin< West Prussia and Gdańsk, Poland (also includes my 24% Eastern European DNA) to today where I sit in Florida, United States of America…
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