July, 1863 Alton Camp Prison, Illinois

Dearest daughter Lizzie,
I hope this letter reaches you so you know I did not choose to abandon you. I am a long way from our home in California. I am so far from you in distance but close to you in my heart.

When I journeyed back from California to Arkansas, I was intent on conducting the business I had at hand and returning back to you. That was not in God’s plan for me. When the war broke out, I felt it was my duty to fight with the Confederate Army. I enlisted in Captain Hawthorn’s Company K Arkansas Infantry. I have been captured and placed in a camp. I will not likely see you again as it seems there is no way to survive this hell on Earth.

When your mother and I left Arkansas with you as a small baby, we fully intended to make it to California and seek our fortunes. We wanted a bright, shiny future for our family. That was not God’s plan either. Your mama died days after leaving the wagon train and making it to California.

In leaving California, I placed you in the care of the Carpenter family. I knew they would take great care of you in my absence. Now I am asking them to raise you to your womanhood as I will not be there.

Sending you my love, my dear girl. Please be comforted in knowing my last days are spend in thinking of you and reaching out in love. Godspeed, my girl.

~Your loving father, Zack Boltinghouse

P. S. Zack (Zachariah) Boltinghouse is my first cousin on my maternal side. Just this summer, I came across his tragic story. He and his wife Patsy arrived in California in 1852 as they sought to cash in on the California Gold Rush. Their daughter Mary Elizabeth was less than one year old. In 1861 when the war broke out, Zack was back in Arkansas to take care of this father’s estate. He never made it back to his daughter and California. When he was captured after the Battle of Helena (Arkansas) on July 4, 1863, he was detained in the Alton Camp (Illinois) which he died. He is buried in a common grave in what is now known as the North Alton Confederate Cemetery.

As I reach across time, as I reach across the country, as I reach across the computer keyboard, I can be at the library. Physically, I have not been to this library since my girlhood and a visit to my grandparents’ Kansas farm. Technologically, I can visit the Osborne Public Library from my Pennsylvania home whenever I wish.

Right there at my fingertips is the digitized Osborne County Farmer, a weekly paper. In the digital stacks, I can retrieve issues as far back as 1870 when the county was first settled. There I can read snippets of information about my ancestors…news of social gatherings, weddings, funerals.

As a child I never thought to ask questions of my maternal grandparents about whom from our family came before us. I did not know names, stories, burial places, facts, whatever could satisfy my curiosity now. Right now, it all waited for me at the library.

When I first explored these virtual stacks, I researched information about second great grandparents who had never been mentioned. In fact, when I found their names and mentioned them to my mother, she replied that she had never heard of them. Imagine, I was the first!

I discovered, for example, that my second great grandfather Amos Boultinghouse was getting a raise in his Civil War Veterans’ pension. I learned that my second great grandfather James Nickel was a respected horse trader in the county, and he was well known for his sense of humor. Second great grandfather William Henry Stevens, another Civil War Veteran, was the patriarch of a large family that came from England and New York to settle in the county. Second great grandfather Andrew Storer was a successful sheep farmer and planter of many trees on the prairie. He also brought the first hog to the county. At the library, these discoveries awaited my typing in a few keywords.

Treasures are found at this library by using my love of research and doggedness to look for answers. Right there…at my fingertips…right there at my computer. Thank you, Osborne Public Library, to having the county paper digitized for reader and writers like me who want to go back in time.

 

 

 

 

I had noticed some of the discrepancies in other records…incorrect birthdates, not knowing a parent’s name. A big mistake really caught my eye when a volunteer had taken a photo of her tombstone for FindAGrave. Why did someone not take care in knowing her specifics?

I had never met her as she passed away more than two years before my birth. My father had always spoken lovingly about his mother. He shared how devoted she was to her children. He related how she took menial jobs to bring in money for the household. The few pictures he had of his mother always showed her with her children. Only one remained of her and her husband, my grandfather.

My grandmother was an emigrant from Poland who arrived at Ellis Island in 1906. It took much detective work to find basic information about her. In addition to a ship’s manifest, the first real record I found was her marriage certificate from the Archdiocese of Philadelphia. It contained her birthdate as 10 April 1892. It contained her parents’ names as Stanislaw and Tekla Mroz. The second record I obtained was a copy of her naturalization papers, which contained the birthdates of her three children. It also recorded 1892 as her birth year.

Then two records really showed that the informant did not know her correct information. The first was her Commonwealth of Pennsylvania death certificate. It recorded that her birth year was 1894…a mistake. It stated that her mother’s name was unknown. The informant was her husband, my grandfather. The second record was the photo of my grandparents’ tombstone. Etched in granite was the wrong birth year…Anna’s birth year is stated as 1895.

It is sad to me that supposed facts were never checked and double checked for my grandmother.

1 March 1918 Tilden Township, Osborne County, Kansas

Dearest sister Clara Dell,
So excited about something that Wash and I decided to have done! We had it done right here on the farmstead. We arranged to have a “yard long picture” (panoramic) taken of all of us. That day seemed to be a celebration of our family and our many blessings.

We contacted Mr. Parrott the photographer from Osborne to visit us at home. He came and we picked out the best spot from which to have the photograph taken. We wanted to highlight our farmhouse, windmill, and barns. He told us to bring out our best horses for the picture along with our Model T. He mentioned even our dogs would look great.

So on that day, I drove out the Model T and put the little ones (Hattie, Leslie, and Angie) with me in the automobile. Husband Wash and sons Andrew, Marvin, and Hillis posed with our best horses. Why we saved a spot for Shep the dog to show him off, too! In fact, we all felt we were showing off! It felt like fun. It felt historical. It felt memorable.

On your next visit, you will be invited into the parlor to see our glorious yard long photograph. Hope you and your family are well. Our son Andrew is slated to leave soon for Camp Funston as he has been drafted into this Great War. Will write more about that in next letter.

Hugs and blessings,
Your sister Sarah Almina

Note: Sarah Almina (Nickel) Storer is my maternal great grandmother. Her husband and my great grandfather is Washington Irving Storer, nicknamed Wash. At the time the photograph was taken, three of her children were married and lived off the farm. Her son Andrew, who was soon to go off to war, would become my beloved grandfather.

15 May 1870 Lisle, DuPage County, Illinois

What would you do if someone were giving you the deal of a lifetime? What if it was only going to cost you and your family a small pittance of what it is all worth? We are taking this gift. We are heading west…farther west than anyone in my family has gone. We are pioneers, they say.

Uprooting most of my family, I am moving westward to Kansas. Married for 27 years now, some of our children are married adults. Some will take their families with us…some will remain behind. Will we ever see this part of our family again? That is a question that saddens us.

This wanderlust comes to me honestly. You see my grandfather and father brought their families from Pennsylvania, into Ohio, through Indiana, and finally to Illinois. Mary and I ourselves have settled on several farmsteads throughout Illinois.

It was during the War of the Rebellion as I served in the 55th Illinois that I heard about President Lincoln’s signing what was called The Homestead Act. I thought to myself that if I could survive this war than maybe Mary and I could take advantage of this act. We could start fresh. At that time, this was a weary soldier’s pipe dream. If only…

Next year, we are going to see that pipe dream fulfilled. The Homestead Act requires that we improve, build a house, cultivate the land for five years. After that time, we will pay a fee for filing a claim at the land office. We will receive 180 acres to call our own. So onward and westward to Kansas! May we prosper well there.

~Amos Howell Boultinghouse

Note: Amos and Mary Boultinghouse were my 2nd great grandparents. When they set out for Kansas, Mary was pregnant with her tenth child. When they arrived in Osborne County, Kansas, Mary gave birth to Lafayette Edward Boultinghouse just days later. Lafayette is recorded as the first white male born in that county. At that time, Amos was 53 while Mary was 43. Pioneers, indeed.

14 March 2025

Dear Wujek (Uncle) Josef,

Where are you? What happened to you? How did you spend the rest of your life? Oh, if you could only whisper your secrets to me, Josef Slabik!

This is all I know about you…
* You were born in 1879 in Turaskowka, Poland, a small village in the Carpathian Mountains. You are my grandfather’s older brother.
* You came to Manchester, Hillsborough County, New Hampshire, to work in a mill.
* You married Karolina Makara on 21 October 1902 at Saint Hedwig’s Roman Catholic Church. Father T. B. Puchala officiated the ceremony while Antonio Rozmus and Veronica Makara (Karolina’s sister) were your witnesses.
* You and Karolina gave birth to your daughter Maryanna on 19 October 1905.

That is where your paper trail ends…nothing more about you. Nothing more about your sweet Karolina and your precious Maryanna. No census records, no mentions in city directories, not one note in any newspaper, no naturalization papers, an absolute nothing! These brick walls are so hard to scale.

Wujek Josef, please whisper a clue to me…please tell me in a dream…anything to break down this wall so I can find you.

With love and affection…your niece,
MaryAnne Slabik-Haffner

18 April 1874 Osborne County, Kansas

Dearest sister Franny,
It is with a heavy heart that I write to you concerning our sister Mary. A most terrible accident has taken place, and we are all in disbelief.

Yesterday, Mary and her husband Daniel were working together at the farm. Some ducks landed on the pond. Daniel asked Mary to run inside the house and get his shotgun. As she ran down the hill with the gun, it discharged…Mary was shot in the heart. She passed away in the arms of her husband as her three children looked on. How awful…how heartbreaking…how devastating!

Mother and Father have taken to sheltering the family on their farm. Daniel is very distraught and blames himself. The children are 8 years old, 6 years old, and 2 years old so I am helping Mother with them. We all worry for Daniel and his mental state.

It has been decided that Mary will be buried on the family farm. This way, her husband and children may visit her resting place whenever they wish to seek comfort.

May our sister Mary rest with the Lord.

Your loving sister,
Charlotte (Boultinghouse Korb)

Note: Mary Boultinghouse Warden, Charlotte Boultinghouse Korb, and Frances Boultinghouse are my second great aunts. The tragedy of this story continued…a year later, Mary’s young son Peter was bitten by a rattlesnake and passed away. Two years later, husband Daniel decided to move from the farm to Colorado. He felt he could no longer care for his remaining son and daughter. He placed them for adoption, and they were adopted by two different families. Later that year, Daniel would pass away.

26 May 1811 Near the banks of the Little Wabash, Illinois Territory

As I stand on the river banks, I recall that most of my life I have lived by a river. The river has been the fastest way for our family to pick up and move on. My life started by the Ipswich River in my Massachusetts. Now I find myself wading in the shallows of the Little Wabash in what is called Illinois with my skirts held high and my bare feet touching her waters. I think of the rivers as women who bring you home.

Married to Joseph Boultinghouse since the age of 17, I find myself today at the old age of 66 years. I have cast my fate to my husband’s good judgments. I watched him stand with General Washington against King George. I watched him build our farm by the Monongahela River near what is called the city of Pittsburgh. I watched him as we moved down the waters of the Ohio into the Ohio and Indiana territories. Finally, I watched him as we floated down the yet another river to make a home in Illinois. Yes, migration has been the king and queen of our river explorations.

As I gaze out at her waters, I see nature with all its wildlife beckoning me to love it. I see our cabin reaching out for me to claim it as home. As I look back over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse at the family graveyard we have started. It is there that my sweet Joseph lies. Finally, I have found my true home here by the river. She blesses me. She consoles me. She holds me in her embrace to simply enjoy the sweetness of her peace.

And so, I entrust myself to her presence. I entrust myself to the care of my son Daniel and his family who live as my neighbors. I entrust myself to God’s care. I entrust…

~Rachel Buxton Boultinghouse

Note: Rachel and Joseph are my 4th great grandparents. It is amazing to me that they floated down river after river seeking new places to call home. What drew them westward? What called to them? I admire Rachel for placing her complete trust in her God and Joseph. She is another of the faith-filled women who grace my family tree. Thank you, Rachel.

26 February 1925 Bloomington, Osborne County, Kansas

As I look out at the day’s snow, I am sitting with a new book in which to record facts. Lying on the desk are also my gold fountain pen and watch. When I was a young woman of 17 years, I was given the pen and the watch as gifts. Those few years ago, I was a substitute teacher at the nearby schoolhouse. I was assigned the primary room. My mother, Naomi Ruth, had given me these gifts to celebrate my new vocation as teacher.

Five years later, I am the mature age of 22 years. I am celebrating my new vocation. I am married…I am a farm wife…I am a new mother. My baby daughter was born last October, and we named her Merna Mae. My husband Andrew enjoys cuddling her and calling her “Mae Mae”. He promises her that he will take her with him on his horse Beauty when she is old enough. I promise her that I will teach her how to quilt and crochet when her fingers are ready. We three are my little family.

A new book we have been given is from my Aunt Helen. It is a baby book in which Mae Mae’s growth and accomplishments are recorded. With gold pen in hand, I have recorded that my little one sprouted her first tooth and laughed out loud at three months. Her first trips were to see Grandma Boultinghouse and Grandma Storer at their farms. My mother (Grandma B) is ever present with her camera and takes her pictures so we can include them in the book. I enjoy watching Mae Mae as the days, weeks, and months go by so I can record her progress. In writing and recording these facts, I bring a sweetness to my days.

And so, our lives together will go by…I will continue to note and cherish these new days of motherhood.

~Isabella Mary (Boultinghouse) Storer

Note: Isabella and Andrew Storer are my maternal grandparents while Mae Mae is my mother. I have that baby book, which is now over 100 years old. A fascinating fact (at least to me) is in it there is a picture of Mae Mae and her dad on his horse Beauty…she looks to be about one year old. An identical picture was taken of me and my grandfather when I was one year old…it is in my baby book. And, yes…I have Isabella’s pen and watch.

Ironton, Iron County, Missouri May, 1878

As I take my seat in the back of the courtroom, I scrunch myself onto the crowded bench. The courtroom is packed with curiosity seekers. They all want to view the face of the accused woman…accused of murder…accused of murder of a child.

This criminal case had taken many years to come to trial. The accused had used tactics to delay it, to change the venue, to play her cards just right. Were her actions that of a mentally ill defendant or that of a skilled actress? The element of surprise in this case was that the defendant was able to bring the legal wheels of justice to many screeching halts.

On trial is Rosabelle Rebecca Eldridge Freeland Eads Howard Boltinghouse, aged 49 years old. She had been described as “a beautiful fiend in a human body”. So many stories about her…about her four marriages…about her alleged conspiracy to do away with her parents so she could inherit their land…about her dealings with horse thief Joe Howard who had been hung by vigilantes…about her hysterics and fainting in another courtroom in another county. Rumors had it that vigilantes wanted to hang her, too, to get justice done and over. She has been escorted by armed guards from her hotel to the jail in the middle of the night…a hotel she had refused to leave. Doctors assigned by the court have examined her to determine if she was playing it for all it was worth or is really mentally ill.

Rosabelle is accused of murdering a 6 year old boy, whom she had adopted. The murder took place on 1 April 1872. When little Louis Taylor had lied to her about stealing three eggs, she beat him with an axe handle until he was deceased. She asked her lover Charles Eads to help her hide the body. All of this had been witnessed by the boy’s older sister, Mary Josephine Taylor. A few days later, she and Eads left the older sister in a deserted area of mountains to die so there would be no living witness. Eads left for parts unknown while Rosabelle headed to St. Louis.

Eads was apprehended after several years…the older sister had lived and reported the crime to authorities. He was arrested and jailed. While there, he wrote letters to Mrs. Rosa Boltinghouse in St. Louis. Jailers and detectives took note and decided to seek out this Mrs. Boltinghouse as they felt this was his accomplice they were seeking.

When located in St. Louis, she was found to be living with a Frank Boltinghouse. She stated that she was expecting a child as she pleaded with authorities not to arrest her. She was arrested and jailed. Frank came to the jail to see her. He reported that Rosabelle was his mistress. He stated his age as 24 when in actuality he was only 15. They were married in a police captain’s office. There are no records of the expected child…was that another ruse?

And so six years later, the day of the trial has finally come. Dressed in black, the defendant enters the courtroom. She swoons and asks to be lie down on a bench. Groaning and screaming, she attempts to delay the proceedings. This time, Rosa will not be successful. The main witness for the prosecution is the older sister, Mary Josephine, who was left to die. She is now 20 years old and remembers that murderous day so well. She testifies. When the jury returns with a verdict, Rosa is found guilty of second degree murder. It will be three years later when she will begin her sentence of 10 years in the penitentiary. No surprise…convicted at last. But was justice done with serving only a ten year sentence?

~Reported by MaryAnne Slabik-Haffner, 21st Century Time Traveler

Note: Frank Boltinghouse was my second great uncle. Divorce records cannot be located for the couple. The trial was covered by newspapers from Cincinnati, Ohio, to St. Louis, Missouri. Rosa would serve her time, return to St. Louis, and pass away in 1900.