For many years, I had a newspaper article about my second great-grandfather, but it was torn into two sections, making it hard to read. Plus, the person who cut it out removed the date, newspaper title, and publisher, so I couldn’t find it. Recently, I discovered the article online, and thanks to some amazing AI tools, I was able to transcribe it! I’m excited to finally share it with everyone so we can all enjoy the story together!
Captain Wescott Preparing For Season On “Dry Body of Water”
The article about Captain Wescott is from The Waynesville Mountaineer, published on June 1, 1939.
“Yes, I was born on Roanoke Island, where Virginia Dare first saw the light, but she had left before I got there,” said Captain John T. Wescott, with a twinkle in his eyes.
The captain, a landmark at the Lake Junaluska Assembly Grounds, has been in charge of the rowboats and has run the launch “Cherokee,” in which he has a third interest, for the past twenty-one years. Prior to his coming to the Lake, the captain had retired from the United States Coast Guard service, after 43 years of active duty.
“But I date back pretty well, even if I didn’t know Virginia,” continued Captain Wescott. “I was born in 1853, and I well recall the days when General Burnside captured Roanoke Island during the Civil War. We had food stored away to do us a year, but the soldiers took everything, and after they left, it looked like starvation. We had forty hogs and forty chickens, and they took them all. One of the Yankee officers, however, took an old hen away from one of the privates and came back and brought it to my mother. She kept it hidden in a barrel in the attic until she was sure the soldiers had left for good.”
“Another thing I remember were the decoy geese my father had and prized so much. They took them all and his guns too. We had been taking care of two Confederate soldiers who were wounded and suffering, and had asked us to give them shelter. So, when the Yankees found out about them, they took my father a prisoner. But what’s the use of recalling such things at this time? Somebody might have hard feelings about it, and I don’t mean it that way. I am just remembering when I was a child.”
Captain Wescott, erect, stocky, and ruddy-faced, denies in appearance and bearing the years he claims make up his age. He shows the clear skin of a person who has lived much in the open. His quarters in the Cherokee Inn, where he lives six months out of the year, are as immaculate as the cabin of a well-scrubbed ship. He showed us about. His closet, cedar-lined and large enough to hold a good-sized trunk, boxes, plenty of shelves, and rows of hooks for hanging garments, is as neat as a pin. Everything is in its place. But one could have guessed without being told where his great interest lay, for there were boat models.
“Yes, for twenty-one years I have run the ‘Cherokee’ on a regular schedule around the lake from 7 to 8 o’clock every evening except Sunday, during the entire season here. I always come early in April to get the rowboats and the launch ready for the summer,” he said.
“But after my years on the sea, I’ll have to admit that Lake Junaluska is the tamest body of water I have ever run a boat on. It’s like taking a broken dose of something for me to run the launch on Lake Junaluska, but then at 86, that’s alright, because I can’t do the work I once did,” said the captain.
“But I don’t like the looks of the lake a bit these days,” he continued. “Right now, it looks like I might have to hoist the old ‘Cherokee’ on wheels, because she has a poor chance of floating anytime soon. We are having a lot of dam trouble down here, but I think the good Methodists are having fun talking about their dam troubles,” he said when speaking of the present condition of the lake.
Lake Junaluska has been drained for work on the lake bed, and it may not be filled until July, which seems to be mighty hard on the captain, who is at work on his boats, getting them ready to float, with a “dry body of water facing the boathouse,” as he says.
The captain’s 43 years of service were seen in the Revenue Cutter, Life Saving, and Inland Service of the Government, and he was located some fifty-five miles from Cape Henry in the coast guard service for 30 years, retiring at the age limit of 65.
After his retirement, two of his daughters, school girls at the time, came to Lake Junaluska, and were so enthusiastic that they persuaded their mother and father to come to this section the next year. They did so, and both liked it. They soon bought the Cherokee Inn, which they owned and operated for many years.
Two years prior to the death of Mrs. Wescott, they rented the Inn to Mr. and Mrs. Claude Medford, who bought the place about three years ago and have since operated it. The captain has continued to make his home at the Inn, during the time he spends in this section.
The rest of the year, the captain spends with his six children, who are scattered from Greenville, Ky., to Richmond, Va. The greater part of the six months out of the mountains is spent with his son, who lives in Norfolk. When his longing for the old life on the coast of North Carolina gets too much for him, he visits his brother down in Manteo.
“I’ll be coming to Lake Junaluska to run the ‘Cherokee’ as long as I live,” said the captain. “I feel more at home here than most any place now.”
Footnote: We, my genealogical cousins and I, have been unable to find any record of John Senior being a POW, but that does not mean he was not 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.
Read my blog to discover the incredible story of Captain Wescott and uncover the fascinating details about this remarkable man!
The company he founded is called Sonoco today, a global provider of packaging products and services. (Not to be confused with Sunoco) He also founded Coker University (which was Welsh Neck High School, then the Coker College for Women, now Coker University).
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Wouldn’t he be proud to know that his 5th cousin, 2x removed, Jeanne Wescott (my grandfather’s sister), attended Coker College in 1943? (Jeanne’s grandmother and James were 5th cousins.)
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Just a year after he married his wife, the Civil War began and James fought in the Ninth South Carolina Infantry. He rose to the rank of major before getting hurt at Lookout Mountain, Georgia, shattering his leg in 1863. In that battle, he was captured by Union troops. He was released after 10 months.
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From the fields of Hartsville, SC to the battlefields of Chickamauga, his journey transformed agriculture and education, leaving a legacy that shaped industries and communities alike.
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Watch the video to witness the extraordinary life of James who wore many hats—farmer, soldier, and industrialist—who, despite the scars of war, cultivated a legacy of innovation and education that endures to this day.
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In 2002, he was inducted into South Carolina’s Hall of Fame. CHStoday
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“He was able to hire so many people in desperate straits after the war that he just uplifted the progress of everybody, black and white, urban or rural. He also was a leader in racial and social progress,”
Founded in 1899, Sonoco Products Company is a United States-based international provider of diversified consumer packaging, industrial products, protective packaging, and packaging supply chain services and the world’s largest producer of composite cans, tubes, and cores. Wikipedia Stock price: SON (NYSE) $60.71 +0.07 (+0.12%) Dec 30, 4:00 PM EST – Disclaimer Headquarters: Hartsville, SC Subsidiaries: Sonoco ThermoSafe, MORE CEO: R. Howard Coker (Feb 2020–) Number of employees: 21,000 (2017) Revenue: 5.237 billion USD (Fiscal Year Ended December 31, 2020) Founder: James Lide Coker Founded: May 10, 1899
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I received a copy of a letter from the Gunn Memorial Library and Museum, written in 2008 by Marlene Flanders, a former aide to Mrs. Verna Logan, who passed away in 1987. In the letter, she mentioned a story she had heard about the Rising Sun Inn, also known as The Logan Homestead, which allegedly harbored an “interracial couple”: a Cherokee Indian man and a white woman. I was intrigued by this account, as I had not come across it before. This blog post tells the story.
Letter written in 2008 by Marlene Flanders, former aid to Mrs. Verna Logan., who died in 1987.
The Beginning: Two Lives, Worlds Apart
In 1803, a boy named Killekeenah Oowaite was born into the Cherokee tribe in New Echota, Cherokee Nation (now Georgia, USA). His upbringing was steeped in the traditions of his family, including his father Dutse Oowaite, and his mother, the daughter of High Cherokee Chief Attaculcullah. Their family name was eventually shortened to Watie. Two years later, in Cornwall, Connecticut, Harriet Ruggles Gold was born into the prominent Gold family, whose legacy was rooted in strong Christian values and community leadership.
Education and Encounter
At 18, Killekeenah met Elias Boudinot, a Revolutionary War figure, a friend and counselor to George Washington, and former President of the Continental Congress, who saw potential in the young Cherokee man. Boudinot sponsored Killekeenah’s education, sending him to the Foreign Mission School in Cornwall, where he adopted the name Elias Boudinot. It was here that he met Harriet Gold, whose family often hosted students from the school.
Their friendship deepened into love, but the cultural and racial norms of the time set them on a path fraught with opposition and challenges.
The Challenges of Love
In 1822, Elias returned to the Cherokee Nation due to illness but remained in contact with Harriet and her brother Franklin through letters. By 1824, their correspondence revealed a deepening relationship. When Harriet shared her intentions with her parents, they vehemently opposed the union. The Gold family, known for its standing in Connecticut, was divided. Harriet’s brothers-in-law, both ministers, argued it was her Christian duty to prioritize the mission school’s reputation over her personal happiness.
Harriet, however, stood firm in her convictions. Despite public outcry and even the burning of an effigy depicting Harriet, Elias, and an ally, Mrs. Northrop, Harriet’s resolve did not waver. (Elias’ cousin, John Ridge also attended the Mission School, where he met Sarah Northrop, the daughter of the school’s steward. The two became romantically involved and wed in January 1824.)
The Honeymoon at the Logan Homestead
After enduring months of familial and societal pressure, Harriet’s immediate family softened their stance. In May 1826, Harriet and Elias married at the Gold Homestead and spent their wedding night at the Logan Homestead, which was fortified and protected by Captain Logan and his armed men. This act of defiance by Captain Logan ensured the couple’s safety during a time of heightened tension.
The couple left Connecticut the next day, embarking on a 47-day journey to the Cherokee Nation in Georgia.
A New Life and Tragic Loss
Settling in New Echota, Elias became the editor of the Cherokee Phoenix, the first tribal newspaper in the United States. It was printed in English and Cherokee, using the Cherokee syllabary created by Sequoyah. In her family letters, Harriet described a good life, and that she had been warmly welcomed upon her arrival. Harriet gave birth to six children, but tragedy struck during her seventh pregnancy. In May 1836, Harriet’s child was stillborn, and she passed away three months later at the age of 31. She was buried in New Echota, and Elias erected a tombstone made from marble brought from Connecticut—a testament to her enduring connection to her roots.
Elias Boudinot, formerly known as Killekeenah Oowaite
The Aftermath
The Cherokee Nation’s land was increasingly encroached upon by settlers, culminating in the infamous Trail of Tears. Elias’ eventual support of the Treaty of New Echota, which advocated for Cherokee relocation, marked him and others as traitors in the eyes of many. In 1839, Elias was assassinated for his controversial stance.
Harriet and Elias’ children were sent back to Connecticut, where they were raised by Harriet’s sister Mary Brinsmade. The boys, William, Frank, and Elias, attended The Gunn School in Washington, Connecticut, while the girls were cared for by their aunt.
Legacy of the Logan Homestead
The Logan Homestead, a witness to this extraordinary love story, remains a symbol of courage and resilience. Harriet and Elias’ union defied societal norms, blending two distinct cultures in an era resistant to change. Captain Logan’s decision to protect the couple during their wedding night speaks to the power of individual acts of bravery in shaping history.
Harriet’s grave stands as a poignant reminder of a woman who followed her heart, defied convention, and left an indelible mark on both her family and history.
Threatened by Georgia soldiers for championing Cherokee nationalism yet executed by his own people for treason, Elias Boudinot left a complex legacy.
1800 Photograph of the grave of Harriet Ruggles Gold Boudinot, New Echota, Gordon County, Georgia
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Stephen Bartkus, previous Curator of the Gunn Historical Museum, and Sarah Griswold, previous Curatorial Assistant, for their invaluable contributions to the previous research by Mark Oliver*.
Gunn Memorial Library and Museum Archives. (Special thanks to Amy Campanaro and Corinne Tabolt.)
Correspondence of Harriet Gold and Elias Boudinot. To Marry an Indian: The Marriage of Harriett Gold and Elias Boudinot in Letters, 1823-1839. United States, University of North Carolina Press, 2006.
Historical records from the Foreign Mission School, Cornwall, CT.
“[Photograph of the grave of Harriet Ruggles Gold Boudinot, New Echota, Gordon County, Georgia].” 1800/1994. January 25, 2025. https://dlg.galileo.usg.edu/vang/do:gor379.
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.
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.
Need more help? Visit Loganalogy.com Research Specialist page! I offer guidance to streamline your research, provide expert tips, and help you build a family tree that future generations will cherish. 🌳🧾🧓🏼
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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(Jeanne’s grandmother and James were 5th cousins.)
In 2002, he was inducted into South Carolina’s Hall of Fame. 
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