A Case of “Burglarious” Entry – Augustus Ley March 16, 2013

Clockwise, from top left: Charles Henry Ley, his father Augustus, his grandfather Karl Gottleib Ley, his son Lester Herman Ley. About a year before Karl’s death. From Doris Ley Hill’s book, THE CARL FREDERICK LEY FAMILY.

Augustus Ley Granted Relief from Stolen Treasury Funds

It seems, in the wild early decades of Ohio’s first towns, our Ley ancestors were no strangers to politics or criminal perfidy.

Earlier posts have shared the Ley tradition of public service.

Fourth-great-grandfather (and Bavarian immigrant) Karl Ley served on the school board in Shanesville, where his wife, Caroline (Vogelsang) Ley was president of the Ladies’ Guild.

Son Augustus Ley manned the posts of treasurer and clerk for Salem Twp.

Grandson Charles Henry Ley served on the board of education and city council before gaining election and reelection as Tuscarawas County Treasurer from 1911-1915.

His son Robert Earl Ley, Sr., assisted him in the treasurer post during his first term, and was a charter member of the Dover Kiwanis Club, a member of the Masonic Lodge in New Philadelphia and of the Shrine and affiliated organizations. He was a past president of the Tuscarawas County Dental organization.

Karl Ley’s great-great grandson, Robert Earl Ley, Jr., my grandfather, served on the Dover City Council. He also participated in many fraternal organizations. The rundown: He was a member of Dover Kiwanis, Dover American Legion, past president of Dover Lions Club, past exalted ruler of Dover Elks Lodge No. 975, a 32nd degree Mason, member of Dover Masonic Lodge, Scottish Rite Valley of Canton, Tadmor Shrine, Royal Order of Jesters, and Chef de Gare of the 40 et 8 Voiture 117.

So, yeah. You could say the Leys were civic-minded.

As for criminal perfidy, we’ll focus on the Port Washington, Ohio, Leys and the subject of this post in particular.

Ley General Store Robbed of Public Funds

Of course, I’m not ranking our relatives among the notorious. Merely referring to another article I stumbled upon a couple years ago in The Ohio Democrat of July 5, 1888. As related, a U.S. Marshal had staked out Port Washington, waiting for an at-large counterfeiter to stop by the Post Office next door to Augustus’s store. He’d often chat up my great-great-great-grandfather while he waited for his quarry. And once the chase was on, one of Augustus’s sons lent the lawman a horse and joined in the pursuit.

But the Port Washington Leys had encountered criminal mischief before. And the crime directly impacted the political role of Augustus, as well as his personal livelihood.

That is, until the Ohio state legislature stepped in.

The official statues actually do a great job, below, of telling the entire story. But the cliff’s notes summary:

Augustus Ley, as treasurer, used to keep township and school funds in his store safe. In October 1865, the store was broken into and robbed, the safe blown up(!), the money stolen.

Augustus was held responsible for the $600 and change, and, I’d imagine, his worthiness questioned in the small community of several hundred souls. The legislature, in typical plodding fashion, didn’t get around to ruling on the matter until 11 years later…!

From Acts of the State of Ohio, Volumes 66-73:

AN ACT… for the relief of Augustus Ley, treasurer of Salem township, Tuscarawas county, State of Ohio.

Whereas… On the night of the 13th of October AD 1865 the dry goods store of A Ley & Co in Salem township, Tuscarawas county, Ohio, was burglariously entered and the safe therein in which Augustus Ley treasurer of said Salem township had deposited the township and school funds of said township to the amount of six hundred and thirteen dollars was blown up and broken to pieces and the whole amount of said safe was stolen and carried away by some unknown parties,

and WHEREAS… A majority of the legal voters of said township by their petition represent to this general assembly that said robbery was not due to any fault or negligence on the part of the said Augustus Lev or any person in his employ and ask that the said Augustus Ley and insureties be relieved from liability for said sum of six hundred and thirteen dollars so taken and stolen as aforesaid, therefore,

SECTION 1… Be it enacted by the General Assembly of the State of Ohio that the trustees of said township of Salem county of Tuscarawas state of Ohio are hereby authorized to release the said Augustus Ley and his sureties on his official bond from the payment of said sum of six hundred and thirteen dollars so taken and stolen as aforesaid and enter said release on the minutes of said trustees and the said trustees of said township and the board of education of the school district are hereby authorized to levy a tax on the taxable property of said township of Salem to make up any deficiency of said funds that may exist on account of said theft aforesaid,

SEC 2… This act shall take effect and be in force from and after its passage.

Passed April 6th 1876

CH GROSVENOR, Speaker of the House of Representatives

THOS L YOUNG, President of the Senate

I actually wonder if the safe theft date is an error, since if it is not, it took the legislature more than a decade to grant relief to Augustus. A search of local newspaper around the date and my own gutcheck date 10 years later in 1875 turned up nothing.

As for the citizens of Port Washington and Salem Twp., it seems their confidence in my third-great-grandfather Ley was not shaken (or, at the least, they were willing to put up with higher taxes — as indicated by the official legislative act — to make up this stolen deficit). Just two weeks after the legislature acted, the April 20, 1876 Ohio Democrat reported, in its Port Washington dispatch:

The election passed over quietly, producing the usual number of defeated candidates. Among those about whom the greatest interest was manifested was A. Ley, for township treasurer. Mr. Ley’s majority of 80 shows that, notwithstanding the safe robbery, the people of Salem are willing to trust him with the township funds.

Augustus Ley’s general store, along the canal in Port Washington, Ohio, about 1875. From the Combination Atlas Map of Tuscarawas County.

Aunt Jennie Fisher’s Witchy Encounter March 14, 2013

The sons and daughters of Sarah Ann (Walters) Fisher gather for a portrait with their mother in the early 1900s. Front: Sarah M, John William, Sarah Ann (Walters), Mary Jane “Jennie”, Henry. Back: Emma, Ellsworth, Della, Barclay, Lily, George, Clara Alice, James.

Hauntings in Stone Creek | Mary Jane Fisher

Today’s dispatch comes courtesy of the alert eyes of Ancestry.com connection — and relative somewhere back through all those Leys and Weibles — Judy Schrock, who last month spotted an article in my old hometown paper about an alleged haunting nearly a century and a half ago.

At the heart of this tale of witches: a 9-year-old third-great aunt, Mary Jane Fisher, sister to my great-great-grandfather John William Fisher.

Born Feb. 22, 1861, “Jennie,” as she was called, was the third child and oldest daughter of my great-great-great-grandparents, George and Sarah (Walters) Fisher. (A daughter, Barbara, born in 1860, died in infancy.)

The family called 104 acres of farmland just outside of New Philadelphia in Stone Creek home. George’s father, Henry Fisher, first settled in the area about 1818, according to The History of Tuscarawas County, published in 1884. Through proceeds from day labor, Henry slowly built his savings and eventually acquired 166 acres.

The Fishers were well-connected — and intermarried — with several prominent early farming families south of New Philadelphia, including the Crites (Elizabeth Crites, daughter of Revolutionary War soldier, Jacob, was Henry’s bride) and Walters clans. George married Sarah Ann Walters, whose parents, Abraham and Mary Walters, maintained their nearly-200-acre homestead just south of their own.

In addition to helping raise a large family of 13 children, George served the community as school director. So when in March 1870 The Ohio Democrat reported the first inklings of their daughter Jennie’s encounters with “strange persons and things that other persons who are present do not see,” the rumors were not dismissed out of hand. “Reliable men from the neighborhood say the story is not without foundation,” the paper noted.

Bewitching Mystery for Jennie & Fisher Family

Jon Baker of the New Philadelphia, Ohio Times-Reporter recounted the Democrat dispatches of March 18 and April 1, 1870 in an article published Feb. 18, 2013, some 143 years later. Baker quoted the first report (which, unfortunately, was missing from the Ancestry.com database):

We have strange rumors from Stone Creek. … Windows are broken, when apparently no one is there to break them. A person riding a white horse (Death on a pale horse) has been seen. Sometimes a dog, invisible to vulgar eyes, is seen by this fortunate little seer.

… Some pious people say the little girl is ‘bewitched,’ others that the house is ‘haunted,’ and some more silly still, assert that spirits have ‘a finger  in the pie.’  Of course, the latter explanation finds but few believers.

The mystery got further treatment in the Ohio Democrat of April 1, 1870. Baker recounts the tale of Jennie being slapped by an unseen hand while dining at her grandparents’ house, and of joining her grandpa Abraham Walters in chasing a witch nearly 300 yards (50 or 60 rods in the original — thanks, Google, for confirming Baker’s handy calculation) across their farmland.

Her grandfather, Mr. Abraham Walters, heard the sound of the blow on the little girl’s face and saw her motion, but could see no one else.  It was a palpable and decided slap in the face given with considerable force, sufficient to throw the little girl from her seat.

…  During the chase (of the witch), (Abraham Walters) saw a mark on a fence that looked like someone had crossed it.  When they got back to the house, the ‘witch’ was standing near the bake oven.  Mr. Walters did not see anything, but the little girl insists that she saw a woman.

The Democrat concluded its report by inviting clergy of the area to assemble on the grounds and investigate the claims, with an eye toward ridding the grounds of the troubled spirits, possibly through the effort of prayer or by channeling the spirit into a peaceful resting place, “such as a hearth stone.”

According to Baker, the Democrat never followed up on the story.

Marries a Walters, Moves to Van Wert

What became of Aunt Jennie Fisher, in the years after her childhood encounters?

The record remains silent on any ghostly activity. But the Democrat reported her marriage Dec.13, 1883 to William H. Walters. No word on whether this Walters was a relation to her mother’s family. But the article notes William came from Van Wert, Ohio, where the couple makes their home for the next six decades.

Oddly, the same census records that confirms their residency in Van Wert also shows a Mary J. and William Walters living there together, with an infant son, as early as 1880, some three years before the Democrat reported their union. But then, the 1900 census seems to peg their marriage year as 1877 (the document reports 23 years of marriage, which would mean they wed as teenagers), while the 1910 census corrects the record to 26 years, or very likely the late 1883 date reported in the Democrat.

The couple live out their days in Van Wert, raising five children (six, if that early census is to be believed). William passes away first, in 1836, while Jennie (Fisher) Walters lives to the ripe age of 83. She dies Jan. 6, 1944 and is buried with her husband in Van Wert.

Places of Rest & Remembrance #9 | Abraham & Catherine Sperling March 12, 2013

Fourth great-grandparents Abraham and Catherine Sperling are buried in Old Union Cemetery, Port Washington, Ohio.

Abraham & Catherine Sperling | Old Union Cemetery

Trying to envision the Port Washington of my great-great-great-grandparents’ day engenders a feat of imagination that is often best aided by aerial maps.

To walk the streets of “Port”, as I knew it growing up 20 miles north on I-77, is to search in vain for any traces of the old canal. The blocks that ran along the industry-sparking waterway have altered their shapes. The shops and the shop buildings are long gone, including Augustus Ley’s dry goods store.

Oh, there’s a post office, still, on the square. And big guns befitting the majesty of the war memorial. A gazebo so new you can just about hear the wood squeak. These are artifacts of a more recent vintage.

But if you let your eyes wander… upwards, along the treeline, the blurred ridges encircling the region like an upturned collar, then the steadfast spires of the churches in town seem to waver if you squint your eyes just right, and time, too, can seem to slip a bit. The churches have been there a long time. And the hills so long it makes you dizzy to think about it.

So when I try to get a feel for life a century and a half ago in Port Washington I turn away from its square and the subtly sunken bed of its yards where the canal once flowed and walk southwest along Arch Street. Even three blocks out from the square the houses give way to open fields stretching off to the treeline and the ridgeline and the hills, and down a little lane in the midst of that open land are great groves of trees, clusters of shadowy green where the town for two centuries has buried its dead.

Walking the lane, farthest back is the newer cemetery, where family names of teachers and friends give off a watery glisten, engraved in the newest stones planted there. Closer in, the names of relatives four, five generations back, and their contemporaries: Stocker, Hammersley, Sperling, Ley. It was in the newer Union Cemetery where my mother, moved by the regimental arrangement of family stones in the large Ley burial plot — from the rose stone obelisk of Karl and Caroline (Vogelsang) Ley, first to America from Germany; through the upward facing blocks of Augustus and son Charles Ley’s families, arranged in lines from the hulking C.H. Ley headstone — imagined twirling in a circle and opening her eyes to find people strolling the streets in Victorian gowns and top hats.

Off to the right of the lane lies Old Union Cemetery. The branches crowd closer together here, the ground is clotted with brambles in places, the stones more weathered, some broken. In the shadows of the great tree near the front, almost at the entrance to the older burial ground, we find the resting place of my fourth-great-grandparents, Abraham and Catherine (Voorhees) Sperling.

Abraham Sperling – Cobbler, Butcher, Soldier

Natives of New Brunswick, N.J., Abraham and Catherine (Voorhees) Sperling were among the early settlers of Port Washington, according to The History of Tuscarawas County, published 1884. They were parents to 10 children — 6 boys and 4 girls, including two twin brothers, Alvin and Allen, born next-youngest on Dec. 24, 1854.

Eight of their children survived into adulthood. Their connection to the Leys would be cemented through their fourth child, daughter Harriet Sperling, whose daughter Minnie Eillene Hammersley would become bride to my great-great-grandfather Charles Henry Ley, son of Port Washington dry goods store owner Augustus.

Maria, the eldest of Abraham and Catherine’s children, was born in 1834 in New Jersey, where the Sperling and Voorhees families had laid down roots in Colonial times. By 1838 and the birth of Anna the couple has settled in Port Washington, which counted just over 100 residents in the 1840 census.

Abraham served the village as shoemaker and butcher. The 1870 census reports his occupation as auctioneer.

In 1861, at age 52, Abraham enlisted in the 58th regiment of the Ohio Infantry. During his seven-month term of service, the regiment served as a “school of the soldier,” and was based at Camp Chase in Columbus, Ohio, before moving to Cincinnati in early 1862, according to a regimental history.

Abraham’s rank was private, according to pension records. He served the 58th as teamster and wagoner.

Abraham was joined in service during the Civil War by his oldest son, John, who as a Lieutenant was one of the commanders of Ohio’s 59th Colored Infantry, after earlier serving with distinction in the 53rd regiment from 1861-1863. He retained his commission in the 59th regiment through the war’s end in 1865.

The May 11, 1876 edition of The Ohio Democrat reports in its Port Washington dispatch: ”The death record in our community for the last week has been quite unusual. … Mr. Abraham Sperling, after a long siege of suffering, died of dropsy on last Wednesday evening.”

Catherine outlived Abraham by 17 years. She ran the household in Port Washington as late as 1880, according to the federal census, and is still listed as a resident there in the pensioner record of 1890, three years before her death.

R.E. Ley Sr. & His “Positive Attitude Theory” March 10, 2013

Proud grandpa R.E. Ley Sr. and grandkids Robert III, Jeanne, Sally and Betsy at his Iron Avenue home in Dover, Ohio in the 1950s.

“Scoop” Wible on Robert Earl Ley

Earlier posts on my great-grandfather, Robert Earl Ley, have related the tragic passing, at age 24, of his bride (and my great-grandmother), Zula (Fisher) Ley; the mysterious ailment that claimed the son of his second marriage, Richard “Dickie” Ley; and his own sudden death while working alongside my grandfather, Robert E. Ley Jr. at their Dover, Ohio dental office.

Certainly, there are sunnier memories from Robert Earl Ley’s 59 years, such as the account related here of his passion for hunting dogs, but growing up, the tragic stories made the most vivid impression. And looking back, it’s natural to wonder what the effect such sad passings had on my great-grandfather and his family.

Happily, then, comes this dispatch from relative David Wible that illustrates the “Positive Attitude Theory” of a middle-aged R.E. Ley Sr.

Dave and I have traded messages over the last couple years, mainly related to the extended trunk of the Weible/Wible tree as its roots stretch through Pennsylvania, over the Atlantic, and beyond. But this week he was kind enough to share journal excerpts from his father, David “Scoop” Wible, a contemporary of my grandparents, Robert Ley Jr. and Suzanne Abbott Weible.

Both Dave and his namesake father pull off the neat trick of being a cousin to me through two branches of the family — the Leys and Weibles — and by doing so through means entirely separate from my grandparents’ marriage.

Scoop’s parents — remember? — were Edwin Frederick Wible and Minnie Mae Ley. Edwin was cousin to my great-grandpa Robert Ohio Weible; his father, David (David “Scoop’s” grandfather), was brother to my great-great grandfather Franklin Eli Weible. Minnie was sister to my great-great grandfather Charles Henry Ley, so, an aunt to my great-grandfather Robert Earl Ley Sr.

Edwin and Minnie called 1028 N. Walnut in Dover home for a while, which is where my great-great-great grandpa Harriet (Powell) Ley spent her last decade. And they were patriarch and matriarch of the “model” Wible family written up in W.D. Shirk’s history of the Powells.

Which is all the circuitous route for telling you: David “Scoop” Wible and Robert Earl Ley Sr. were first cousins, even though Scoop was just a year or so older than my grandparents, Bob Jr. and Sue Weible.

Bob and Sue Ley with cousin “Scoop” Wible and wife Dorothy at the Leys’ Dover home, sometime in the 1990s.

“Bright and Beautiful” Memories of Dover Swimming Holes

This week, Scoop’s son shared some stories from the pen of his father.

As Dave Jr. related, his father, when he reached his 80s, began to finally set down in print the stories of his youth he’d spun for years for their enjoyment and entertainment. “As you can imagine,” Dave wrote, “I was pretty busy playing tech support on the phone, whenever my dad… would stumble into some speed-key combination in MS Word, losing his way in documents, but it was well worth it to have all these great stories for posterity!”

About the time of Scoop’s 90th birthday, in 2006, the family collected these tales in a volume, All Things Bright and Beautiful, and distributed these to family and friends.

The first story I’ll relate here — with Dave’s blessing — covers Scoop and friends’ adventures in their old Dover swimming spots. But for the middle paragraphs, Scoop relates some of the wit and wisdom of his 23-years-older cousin, and in these sentences, a young great-grandpa Ley seems to step right off the page and speak to you.

Enjoy!

From “The Old Swimming Hole,” by David Augustus “Scoop” Wible:

                  In my younger days the only spot available for swimming was a

clearing on the banks of the Tuscarawas River which was called “Yonkers”.

No one ever seemed to know just why this was called “Yonkers” but it had

always been called that and the name was passed down from the older to

the younger boys without explanation.  I say “boys” because we were at

the age and in an era of male chauvinism –no one ever thought to question

the rightness of excluding girls and morally it did seem the right thing to do

since swimming at “Yonkers” was exclusively “skinny dipping”.

          I don’t remember anyone ever showing up at “Yonkers” with a swimming

suit–I suspect he would have been laughed right out of the gang for such

unusual behavior.  Also suits would not have been very practical because of

all the mud in the water–couldn’t have kept them clean. Once there was

supposed to have been a little sand to the bottom but by the time of my

swimming hole days all sand had washed a mile downstream to the “Sand

Bar”. We could have gone swimming at the “Sand Bar” but they charged

money there and you had to wear suits–and also there were girls there–now

in a few more years..!!!

          One thing nice about “Yonkers” was when you reached the age of

11 or 12 and were about 5′ 3″ tall you could just about walk across the

river which was nearly 200′ wide at this point. I say “just about” because

your feet would sink into the squishy mud-clay bottom and you would have

to shove upwards toward the opposite shore, take a deep breath and hold

your nose  to settle back to the bottom to repeat the process.  According to reports from observers on the opposite shore we didn’t look unlike a bunch

of approaching alligators.

          Which all reminds me of one of the theories of my cousin, Dr. Earl Ley.

Earl was not only a very good dentist but also one mighty fine human being.

There is one thing about we Leys–we are never lacking in theories–some

logical–some a little impractical–but no one could say that we couldn’t

conjure up a theory for any situation.  Earl’s forte was the positive attitude

theory which was a reflection of his optimism –but not all of these were of

the practical mold.  Earl did all the dental work for our family and was like

an uncle to me because of our age difference. I remember one day being

in his dental chair for multiple fillings when he started drawing conclusions

about a Tuscarawas River drowning and I knew he was building up to one

of his theories,  He avowed that he could not see how anyone could drown

in a river since all one had to do was go down to the bottom and start walking

across stream until his head surfaced at the opposite shore.

          I remember that during the height of the depression Earl voiced one

of his more positive and plausible theories when he declared he couldn’t

understand how anyone felt he couldn’t go to college because of the lack

of money. “Boy that wouldn’t happen to me” he averred.  “I’d start a peanut

and popcorn stand”. Knowing Earl, he would have–and been successful too.

          But to get back to the old swimming hole. Sometimes if we guys felt

more ambitious  we would hike (six miles round trip more or less) to the

White Bridge where there was a swimming hole a class above “Yonkers”.

This hole was really deep and you had to be a good swimmer to fight the

current.  There also was a rope you could swing out on from the bank and

drop into the hole.  The best feature was that if your feet ever touched  the

bottom it was rock–not oozy mud.

          Later as we grew older we started going over to New Philly where

they had built two fancy swimming pools with white washed sides and

bottoms. These always seemed too antiseptic and sterile–never as much

fun as “Yonkers”. It was after I had left Dover when a pool was built there—

thankfully Dover was reluctant to part with ways so filled with nostalgia.

In Good Countenance #9 – Ralph Foutz March 6, 2013

Virginia (Henson) Foutz and Ralph Francis Foutz, in an undated photo.

Ralph & Virginia Foutz | Deepening the Sherman Foutz Connection

Enough digital ink has been spilled in this blog on Sherman S. Foutz, oldest brother to my great-grandfather Vance Cleveland Foutz, that I’ll spare you the extended recap and cut to the news at hand.

The last breakthrough I blogged about was the discovery, through Pennsylvania church records on Ancestry.com, of baptismal logs listing Ralph Francis Foutz and Harry Sherman Foutz as sons to Oscar W. Foutz and Florence Hartman Foutz.

Those documents firmed up a lot of information, including:

• reaffirming Oscar and Florence as a couple and parents
• confirming their residency in Reading, Pa. in the first decade of the 20th century
• confirming their church affiliation, like most Foutzes, as Lutheran
• confirming birth dates for Ralph and Harry
• revealing the young couple had a second son, Harry, a problematic revelation, since neither he, nor parents Oscar and Florence, appear in any records I’ve uncovered since the time of patriarch Sherman Foutz’s death from tuberculosis in 1915

That was always the core mystery behind these Foutzes. Sherman was beloved as first-born, prominent, successful son of Jonathan and Rebecca Foutz, and certainly admired by his youngest sibling, my great-grandfather Vance, as evidenced by the clippings and photos that remained in his possession and were eventually passed down to my father, Fred. But his early death seemed to cut off the rest of that family from my own.

Oh, it seemed as if Sherman’s daughter, Grace, would show up from time to time, as evidenced by my great-aunt Doris (Foutz) Waddington’s memories, and Grace’s surprising signature in Vance’s 1968 funeral registry (Grace herself was just two years from death). But Grace (Foutz) Chaney died childless. Her 1970 obituary mentions a foster-sister, Catherine Rutt, of Lititz, Pa., and several nieces and nephews — what became of them? What became of her brother, Oscar, who isn’t mentioned in her 1970 obituary, and his own children and descendants?

Tracking Down Ralph Foutz

The pieces started to fill in, where Ralph Foutz is concerned, in connections I made through several Harrisburg, Pa. city directory entries of the 1930s and 1940s. Same name, same city as where he grew up in the care of grandma Lizzie Foutz (Sherman’s wife), according to the 1910 and 1920 censuses. Seems a likely connection.

Next, the 1987 Harrisburg Patriot-News obituary for Virginia Henson Foutz names Ralph F. Foutz as her husband, preceding her in death. The obit mentions Virginia as retired from the L. Wohl Children’s Dress Factory. In Lizzie Foutz’s 1930 census entry, foster daughter Catherine is listed as a dress-stitcher. Same employer? Again, a possible connection.

Through the website FindAGrave.com — ridiculously named, but deeper and deeper by day in its breadth: I cannot overstate how helpful this is as a primary source — I located entries for Ralph and Virginia Foutz in Woodlawn Memorial Gardens (named in Virginia’s obit) in Dauphin County. I submitted a photo request — another helpful feature of FindAGrave — and a man named Karl Fox was kind enough to photograph these relatives’ final resting places. From those photos, I could confirm birth and death years. Incalculably helpful.

So from the information in the obituary, backed up by the confirmation from documents listed above, I was able to start branching out in my search for what happened to Oscar and his descendants. This led me to connect with third cousins once removed Henry Foutz, Kathy Allen and Sandi (don’t know your last name yet, dear).

As often happens — it’s true of me, too, of course — Henry, Kathy and Sandi were curious about their family’s origins as well, and beginning to coax info from parents and aunts and uncles, Ralph’s and Virginia’s kids, Nick Sr., Charles, Catherine, Arthur, Grace, Agnes and Frances. I shared the info I had, on our connection through Sherman, Oscar and Ralph, as well as the Foutz/Pfouts family story all the way back to Michael and Wuerttemberg, Germany.

Kathy and Sandi kindly shared the photo of their grandparents that is featured in this blog. (BIG THANKS!)

As for their Foutzes, Henry was been instrumental in putting together a big Pennsylvania Foutz reunion the last few years. From the photos he’s shared on Facebook, looks like it was a lot of fun. Maybe we can see that expand to include Ohio and other far-flung Foutzes?

As for filling in the details on Ralph, Oscar and the rest, what we still don’t know:

• What happened to Lizzie Foutz (Sherman’s wife) after the 1930 census? We know she dies in 1945 and is buried with Sherman in Longview Cemetery near Bowerston, Ohio. What was she doing in 1940? She wasn’t living with Ralph or foster daughter Catherine? Where then?
• What happened to Catherine (Foutz) Rutt, husband John Roy Rutt and their descendants?
• What became of Ralph’s parents, Oscar and Florence, and his brother, Harry Sherman Foutz? Again, the last record I have of them is from a 1911 Reading Eagle article reporting Florence’s visit to Oscar at National Guard Camp Thomas Potter Jr. in Mt. Gretna.

I’m looking forward to working with newfound extend family to discover these stories together.

Don Foutz: 99 Reasons to Remember March 5, 2013

Colt Foutz and grandpa Don, about 1977.

Happy 99th Birthday, Grandpa Foutz

I’ll confess: as I’ve gotten more and more into genealogy the last several years there are more and more dates swimming in my head.

Yesterday was more than mere Monday, at least where memory served. March 4 is a pretty significant family milestone, marking the birth of my grandpa, Donald Dale Foutz, in 1914, to Vance and Laura Foutz of Canal Dover, Ohio.

He was likely born in the old house Vance shared with extended family. The one down from the corner of Walnut and Second, at 113 W. Second St., according to newspaper accounts. Great-great Grandma Rebecca Foutz was among the residents there, and would have been around to hold Vance and Laura’s third son a year before her death, in May 1915.

His time with us was too, too short. I couldn’t help imagining, while on a walk yesterday, that if he’d lived as long as his wife, my grandma Erma Maxine Johnson Foutz, or as long as my other grandparents, he’d have been around during my graduation year. Ah, but then lots of other details would be different, too, eh?

In the end we’re blessed with what time we have. And after the fact, memories, the little quirks programmed into millions of individual genes. In our family tree poster, hanging by our dining table (just beneath the graphic-art FOUTZ sign), are images of myself, reflected backward through father, grandfather, great-grandfather, great-great, etc.

Happy 99th, Grandpa.

Foutz-Ley Family History Blogging in 2012 January 1, 2013

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 9,100 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 15 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.